We’ve had this rosebud post that’s been sitting around, I know there was some vibe about us being rich and fine and all sorted out in the future which I don’t really want to mess with but then it all came down to moments, and whatever happens, even if I totally plateau into fulfillment on multiple planes, the moments that existed and begged for some kind narrative or art to make them understood, well they still exist.

It’s a heavy trip. You’ll never get the moment back, but what was it saying?

Even if you get rich and have mad ladies everywhere, y’know you’re no more glamourous than that skulking 19 year old kid who’s band is mad crazy hot right now, you gotta be somebody it’s unacceptable to try and be some rich bloated prick with some bimbo jumping up and down on you while you lie back. You never want to be that until . . . well, even that’s too far away for me to think of, a lifetime away.

But I think I was like well . . . let’s pretend all our dreams come true, let’s be logical and work backwards.

So one day we’re rich and surrounded by honeys and flying around the world doing gigs and managing our business and investments online. Sounds good.

Does it even matter if you do your videos or your songs? Isn’t it important to do something good? Or do you just do whatever you have to?

Is there any reason, once you’re cracking it, to care about what happened once? I guess you need these vibes – you need lonely uncertainty and desperation, confusion and endless entangled possibilities, these things need to exist in order for resolution to paint the beauty in releasing the tension.

. . . and I see now, later, that that stuff becomes absorbed into you, that’s why lotto winners go back to work, becuase you don’t stop being who you fundamentally are.

But who you are isn’t all that with which you indulge yourself, but rather the opposite and it is of these two things from which personality is formed – from which stories can be told, which is my art. Whether a beat or dumb blog or a dumb video it’s still a story.

It’s high and lows.

Y’know? When you’re in the moment, the domain where I stole a kiss from Imogen, a crazy night, a beautiful girl, a moment you won’t forget.

That’s what matters.

Give me my cheese. Let me kiss her on the top of Mt. Eden then roll in my Beamer pumping my new tune as we ride straight to the club for me to rock the 200 strong crowd there.

Give it to me! Why not? I’ll have that dream. I will take it home and put it in a safe place.

I’ll be loving that for decades once this youth is gone. So give that dream to me and I’ll cherish it. It reminds me why the archive is important, because all this stuff will fade, there’ll come a time when I will have to remind myself that I did kiss Imogen that night to remember how wild it was.

I think I need to keep my art alive because it keeps the memories alive, those are vibes that will be lost to me, lost to my art if I don’t preserve them, what it’s like to be wild, loose, 18, ready to say anything, ready to organise parties, and to dash through the night with one of our cities noted local beauties, to kiss her once, to speak with her one last time on the phone the next day.

That’s what this post is about, if in years to come I drive up in my sweet audi, I rock my rolex, I rock parties, I have girls going that are all good, don’t let me lose that.

I hate you porsche man, in your 50’s, take your porsche away from my sight where I need not see your desperation. Where I need not see myself in 20 years, ooooo I’ve got a porsche and a pocketful of broken dreams and lost memories, the only woman who’ll come near me is trashier than I am.

Surely morrissey and robert smith and all will help me to remember how it used to be in the 1990’s. But yeah. I gotta do something good, I gotta be, I gotta do my art, and I have to remember how it was, how it really was. I wanted to do a kids book about my life. Basically to explain in the simplest terms why I did what I did and why I am who I am.

On myspace I kind of realised . . . why bother faking being awesome, why not try to actually be awesome? Get some money, get serious, the whole concept of celebrity in New Zealand was just ridiculous because of our tiny population. There’s no money. So get some money for a start. Build your warchest. Be ready for war. Be ready to surprise an enemy that is unable to cut off your supply line.

I’m only saying, because here we are some 3 years later, planning the invasion. The loss of the camera was a setback but we will return with greater firepower.

The website will be an assault platform. The issue is getting rid of all this rambling content and stepping up. We want to do it this year. Make the website good, and then the blog posts good too. But we have to find cool stuff to write about. So music and content leads to email sign ups, to awesome newsletter stuff.

Again it’s the audience.

I don’t know if we will be opening a secret underground club spot.

But I am sure we’ll be doing a photoshoot.

I guess the secret underground club spot is an example of something I could do using the skills I know I have that could contribute to something I feel passionate about. It’s not just one act, or one type of music, it’s the auckland scene.

The auckland scene is ugly but it’s made of beautiful people who want things that matter.

It’s up to people like me who understand that to make something that gives them that. I don’t know if an underground clubhouse would do that but it’s something I could do that might be cool.

I mean I was just saying, we feel like we can do something, because we have some financial resources and the opportunity to take the time.

Business seems like a good idea because it tends to work out. It’s good to have some money rather than to be left with nothing but memories, that sometimes feels like not a victory at all.

But money in it’s self is not the point because we have money and it doesn’t quell the feeling that something else could be available if only the forces could be brought to bear.

And that’s where choice is a force. It would be nice to write the music that impacts people but maybe that’s not what it’s about. Maybe if what you’re best suited to doing is some business that generates activity, then that’s the best contribution you can make. I’m just being real.

What we do know is that money is not the answer. Maybe money is just my special power, I can smell it and I can use it. If we can use money as a firebreak to our own outlandish schemes, we can know that something is effective in that it is viable.

A lot of drum and bass stuff I did was cool, but it wasn’t viable which only tells you that even if it was intrinsically worthwhile, we failed to make it worthwhile in the real world of this game where forces will rise and fall.

It’s about the choice.

Money doesn’t come into it. Do you want to be barely notable as some guy who also wanted to make music and videos and blog and gig and etc., or do you want to be the guy who continued to do business that gave way to activity that was far more present to people than my latest plans for some song or some gig or whatever.

But then I disappeared into another plane, I remembered dreams I had from years ago, like actual dreams, other worlds that never were, how could I remember such details if it never meant anything but mental garbage. There was an embankment and a wood and stately house or some kind of attraction to which we were settled in the surrounding lawn areas.

There was something that happened in the embankment and we had to vacate. I can’t remember much else for certain but it never happened and then I was working on some deep drumstep vibes with michael jackson and it went into some synth heavy passage with a slash style lead break but totally like reaching immediately for flying soaring eagles of justice.

Suddenly

in an instant, I remembered everything, I had given as a musician and drum and bass too. I was only going to happen to write music that could happen to fit in a drum and bass tempo with perhaps some bass heavy characteristics.

I not a musician, I just happen to write music and it’s all at the exact same tempo.

True Story.

Who Loves Ya was the name of my first Mix CD in 2004 and it is still currently one of my favourite dubs which I put down in 2009, but because of the nina simone samples being quite crusty it’s been hard to get the right sound for, but it is one of the tunes I would like to see come out regardless of whether a label is interested.

Man I really feel like I’m getting my mojo back, and the moment is right for a pre-emptive strike. Well sort of. It comes and goes.

We want to weaken the focal point now so we can breakthrough later in the year.

What’s the focal point?

Starting up new business?

Getting mad respect in the game?

Actually getting into profit in the game?

How do you get mad respect? By throwing down ill shit? Straight knowledge? I guess, which is hard. Might have to look into that.

I’m just searching through trademe for commercial properties and again I really am up to no good.

Because in a commercial property you can have people living there, and have a big party, you could even open some kind of a speakeasy or private club.

That’s on top of running retail and our usual promotions and marketing stuff.

This one I’m looking at is rent + opex less than $400 a week. It’s a tacky office but it’s in the backstreet of a funky part of town where you could probably make some noise. Not huge club amounts, but reasonably rowdy party amounts.

You’d need a real strategy to get people to find out about you in terms of retail etc. but I think that strategy would be my usual approach – low intensity low maintenance approach.

Look at having someone live there to cover most of the cost, and run orders for the business, start getting retail stuff together. This might take a while. But it could also be HQ for my talent agency. Then I start throwing some parties and take it from there.

Imagine if you were open 2 nights a week, where club members could come and kick, and enjoy a sample of what they please? That’s the environment, where 25 dudes are going to show up and pay $20 for two drinks and a smoke, and chill out for an hour or two. Collect $500, and you’ve paid your expenses and rent. Your aim would be to do that over 2 nights initially, then each night, then start adding some week nights.

I guess just respond to demand. But a really cool underground club, that’s what I’m saying, the music would be low and chill, and it’s an inner city getaway for hipsters to chill and enjoy an alternative atmosphere.

So if the only reason is to make money and have a party spot, why worry about retail or any other business stuff? Because we’re trying to get started in it. We’re trying to get our toehold.

I just wonder how I’ll go in with no way of making the rent. But if we have Swifty in there, it won’t matter. We can do as we please, use it as a crash pad, and focus on building the hospitality side, a place to party and run my talent agency.

But I like the idea of a hipster joint where music and items of interest are available, there’s a coffee machine. But it would have to be smoke and alcohol free during the day, and open so people could drift in, I’d be likely to tear down reception, make it retail.

Again hopefully there’d be a way of changing it from retail and service over to hospitality and professional meetings.

As long as it doesn’t lose money it will be worthwhile.

You run it all, retail, promotions, agency and a club, and as each one outgrows the place, it can fly the coup until it’s just your whacky HQ when you have a bar, a shop, and an office all based elsewhere having been built up under whacky hq’s roof.

I feel like driving there now just for kicks. You never know who you might meet.

Maybe I don’t respect enough, am not stoic enough in acknowledging the possibility that things could always be worse, that I am so lucky to have a way to make money, to have a supply line into the possibilities.

But there is a story behind the fantasy. The fantasy has it’s origins, it’s roots somewhere. What means more, the fantasy or the reality? What does the fantasy mean, how does it reflect against what it is that is real?

The music represents stuff, the music is going fine, but what about the stuff that it is?

You need to get styled up, invade the realm. Invade the night, invade the spaces and search down the vibes. Maybe I need actually get out there nature documentary style and look for the vibe. Pin it down.

Do I have to go out there wearing a suit? No that’s the fantasy, projected, illustrated. But I need to be scouting locations. And have costumes and signifiers so I can be present in the narrative in a significant way.

I think with the track Power Supply the software for the memory is locked in the hard drive, so it’s quite similar. The files are on the hard drive, but there’s no power. Sometime the fan can get clogged and it overheats the machine.

Without a functioning unit to execute our commands, we are unable to run the files and access the data.

Maybe in a video, I’m searching auckland for read outs on evidence of vibes. Down in the viaduct where I saw the Farmer’s Santa all dismantled and abandoned, in the parks of auckland.

The parks of auckland!|!! that’s definitely still on, I should run with that theme again. Each song represents a park where something happened. Archive can be the best of what I never properly released, Narrative can be the final version of my best tunes, and Parks of Auckland can be the ancient past, Maybe even with a twist like every song has not just a remix but an evolved mix that mixes from the millenial version to the future.

We’d have to see.

Again it’s about the power supply. Do we have the power to run this operation, do we have the energy capacity? We need efficient fuel and energy solutions, just having cash is not going to be enough we need to get out there and start executing, shipping, actually doing these ideas.

We just need to do the ideas we’ve got going, piut one foot in front of the other, or even, just do whatever I feel, as long as I do it.

I need more mentions to function. wait huh?

Do I have to do art to live? Is it not real if it’s not art, can it not just exist as non art? Plenty of existance isn’t art, that existance is forgotten. We’re trying to create a record here.

We’re trying to discern the milieu. Can you discern the milieu?

How can you understand the milieu if you don’t experience it? We need to traverse and document. We need our light and batteries ready to set forth.

We need a snap camera too, a good camera on our phone.

A device that cradles the camera but sits on a wheeled stand that has a huge long handle so you can film yourself and move with the camera, and get a nice wide angle of yourself.

I thought up this thing when I was a kid called the “bed desk” so you could sit in your bed and write or work, my dad even helped me make it

Rosebud, yo, tattoo it on my forehead.

We could do an urban picnic, the modern media conscious content producers night trip.

So easy to do, complete self contained . . . – or wait it could go into the first episode RC1 -going into town as a pirate, but then the pirate narrative won’t connect with the boring frustrated marketing guy thing unless I do it parallel. Maybe I just have to go full pirate to keep it surreal.

BONUS ROUND: MORE LOST TWEETS

i love kanye but I figure he’s just colouring in, so i dont follow. Fiddy’s got dimension #follow “this cold world that we in . . .” yall

money is cool and that but I’ve just about had it with all this. I don’t wanna end up some rich dick,

Haven’t been digging the music on #madmen so much, but I’m more into Swing and Doo Wop. But I was really into Beat when I was a kid. #60s

My memory of the 80’s is pretty to similar to now, the 60’s were really glamourised.

I’m going to get to work on my archives. I’m kind of sitting round, I can’t really focus on new tunes and I’m still a bit unsettled but so I need something to get on with.

Archives is something I can work on without too much effort.

I guess the idea of the archives is to be able to keep adding new material until it’s complete but what’s the organising principal?

I think it will be multi reference, like you can get an entry on 2004 or you could get an entry on data:bass or Further, so I might start of with a chronology, and note down seperate references from there.

There is lots of archiving to be done, both for romantech and for soul science.

And I also have to join the dreaded facebook.

Soul Science I’m going to go with a more audio/visual feel, it’s either audio, or images, or regular videos.

You’re basically, see stuff whether it’s old pictures or new videos, plus there’s lots of content to download

I guess that’s what it comes back to, a platform on which to build regular content. Whether it’s on soul science and it’s driven by new downloads and video content, or it’s the stuff on here which is more leaning toward the narrative, so there’s much more writing explanation etc. and tying in the significance of themes and messages.

The soul science brand will be very anti-brand I guess because I’m going to focus on quietening the message, so it’s really just visuals, music and our videos. There’s not supposed to be anything there, except what is. It’s non conceptual, there are no layers of meaning.

It’s a hard, analytical, it is what it is type situation.

I guess in a way it’s just a matter of using the tools and understanding what’s available, and how the tools will allow your audience to interact with the content in their own way.

We got visual content we want to upload and present, so I’ll be checking out flickr.

I’ll be looking into bandcamp and soundcloud as well as possibly reverbnation, ilike, imeem, last.fm maybe one or two others to provide the music content for the sites.

And of course youtube provides the video content that can be embedded into

Aweber is the paid email management solution I use, to take addresses for regular email sign ups.

While a wordpress blog can deliver the all purpose platform for publishing non primary content.

It’s easy to see it all comes about spec’ing your site out with the right aps and widgets to help your fans get what they need.

haha look at that I suddenly thought I was writing my music marketing blog.  sheesh.

I think it’s time to put in the structure of how these archives are going to appear, and what we can do with the soul science site to preserve functionality while enhancing the design appeal.

But first I need emails for soul science and dig up my old email account for romantech. That’s going to be ugly,

Then Flickr, Soundcloud and Youtube. No more posting until it’s set up! Now crack to it!

Matt arrives at Cafe 7 in his beamer to the sound of a new Soul Science track he sees the guys and sits down to have his takeaway mocha when he gets the phone call from the disgruntled client.

The client goes into a full diatribe about the poster job for the underprivileged youth art project not being completed.

Points touched on are:

The client feels victimized and leans on the concept of discrimination against the underprivileged as well as it’s importance as a serious council funded arts project

The client namedrops local musicians and infers this is a bad reflection on his business and makes misinformed statements about Matt’s role as a “teacher”.

Matt becomes more hopelessly apologetic but reveals a stressed and harried response, laughing nervously.

The client admonishes the laugh saying “Don’t patronize me.”

When Matt tries to explain the circumstances of his business, the client goes further into picking apart Matt’s business practices and making somewhat patronizing suggestions as to how he should be running his business.

Matt forces humility and responds by promising to fix this problem. Tonight.

Matt ends the phonecall and is downcast. Music plays.

At the office it is night. Matt is explaining to swifty what he must do -Drive half an hour into the deepest part of some of Auckland’s poorest areas in order to stick up posters for a South Auckland art and documentary project promoting the art of underprivileged youth.

He complains about the work situation and reveals that he considers the possibility of being robbed and / or beaten is real, and whats more as Swifty asks about the state of his BMW’s warrant and registration which leads Matt to state that if the Police do notice him, he is likely to encounter hostility if what he’s doing is seen as a variation on tagging.

Swifty goes on and on about his various issues until Matt is forced to leave his chatter to get on with the job.

This goes into a montage of Matt travelling along the motorway at 2am, leaving the city and the “leafier” suburbs slowly seguing into the less than salubrious South Auckland surroundings. This may be one of the main opportunities to showcase tunes.

The music stops abruptly as Matt finds himself in a lonely dark street in south Auckland coming off the motorway. A Large Pylon buzzes in the background.

Matt manages to put a few posters here and there, hiz gaze lingers for the first time on the subject of the posters which are examples of the “underprivileged” youth’s own personal photography.

With some assuredness Matt sets off down Hill Rd, only to become seemingly lost until Manurewa appears.

At this point Matt is becoming more aware of the surroundings of South Auckland, even at 2 in the morning on Wednesday night, some bars and run down looking eateries are still open and have a few lower class people loitering around.

Cautiously Matt continues his work as mysterious street figures pass by inhospitably.

Turning back up the street, Matt stares into a large empty karaoke bar where few people sit and a somewhat competent girl sings Sanatana’s more modern hit “Thinking of ways to make it better . . . ”

“Maria, Maria . . . living her life just like a movie star . . . ”

There are few places for posters here and figure move ominously about the street. Another run down eatery is closed but still music blares from the speakers, a soppy new romantic ballad hit crooned over washing synths by a deep voiced new romantic with a ever so slight continental lilt.

“Save your love . . . ” I’m not quite sure of the song – any help?

At this point Matt passes a rowdy bar, and continues to place posters although fearful the drunken crowd will notice him and harrass him.

In another sequence, we may become aware that Matt is fearful of the Police seeing him, but because he insists on only wearing his glasses when he drives he has no way of telling if oncoming vehicles are police cars.

Matt travels along Gt South Rd placing the posters and we see many images from the exhibit.

At a particular shut up shopping precinct the movements of individuals becomes suspicious.

Matt continues to Manukau shopping centre and stops at a gas station to get supplies. Bland mainstream R’n B plays. With a nervous weariness he ends up buying all sorts of crap. And sits in the car sipping on a bad coffee and carboard muffin listening to a song.

The industrial landscape is desolate. Big rigs roll around here ant there and also, there are road crews doing roadworks seemingly everywhere throughout the short, but this is the moment where the ongoing presence of the big rigs hauling and the road works

Matt has conquered the South with his postering, but there is more to come, the shopping centre and surrounding business quadrant are strange compared to the more familiar working class shops of South Auckland.

It is about 3.30 am. Huge Car yards, industrial big box depots, are lit up, but the streets are quiet, flags flap in the wind. A large jet flies low into Auckland Airport. The Job is very almost done. Matt could finish now and talk up the numbers. He stands in the cool, silent, bright and windy night.

He approaches a large lit up gas station, again playing some bland R’n B, on a huge bright empty forecourt. He approaches to fill up his glue bucket at a tap. There is no one there.

More Music Plays. Matt continues on through South Auckland, to Papatoetoe, and some point the optimistic beats give way to a maechanical clunking that gives away the increasingly obvious realisation that Matt has a flat tyre.

Matt stops tensely in Papatoetoe to confirm he has a flat. Two transvestites call out to him, reacting with a subdued but tense repulsion, he drives off.

He becomes increasingly more paniced as the consequences of his decision to press on to the next gas station becomes more apparently a poor decision, shops fade to industrial areas which fade to inhospitable ghettos that fade to the long stretches of the large mill and brewery plants.

Matt pleads and repeats “Why have you got to do it to me. Why have you got to fuck me in the Ass. Why ya gotta fuck me?”

Conversations with demanding clients that will happen tomorrow when matt is unable to get his tyre fixed play, he is almost in tears.

Just when it becomes apparent that the tyre is more damaged by now than a simple flat, at last before what seems to fade into a highway across a swampy inlet, a gas station sits in a darkened truck stop.

At what first appears to be an air pump is a hose. Matt stops the car.

The Tyre looks like a bowl of noodles wrapped around the wheel, it is completely shredded.

He tells the service attendant, a slightly douchie looking indian guy he haas a flat, not quite knowing why.  The dude stares back blankly, “bummer.”

Pained and irritated Matt struggles to pull out his tyre, attempting and eventually pulling the tyre out from beneath the great collection of posters and postering utensils. Perhaps at points we catch sight of Matt’s Pirate gear.

Posters from old gigs fly out. Soul Science plays and perhaps we see Soul Science DJing perhaps at Fu. John’s monologue comes on, and Matt reaches for his phone to text John. It is 4.16am.

The change of tone is subtle as Matt keys out and then has second thoughts on his messages as John’s monologues about loyalty and partnership show themselves to contain concepts contrary to Matt’s independence.

The BMW Jack is different from a normal Jack. It doesn’t make any sense,

There is conflict between Matt’s independence and self empowerment, and his concept of his role as a business guy to which a flat tyre is just another challenge in the form of an expense that needs to be minimized.

Matt is alone with his broken down BMW in a dark truck stop on the edge of the ghetto.

More slightly douchie Indian guys approach and Matt is on guard. He immediately notices that as he talks he won’t remove his right hand from his pocket which creates increasing tension.

We hear a dialogue which reveals itself as that of the drug dealer, a small time capitalist which segues into the paranoid and violent until the indian guy takes his hand out of his pocket to grab the BMW jack before remarking that they too dont get the BMW Jack and will go grab theirs.

The tension is released. They banter about “work” and “town” as they begin Jacking up the car.

Then they say it has a key lock nut. Only a special fitting will unlock the main nut.

They withdraw back to mope around the attendants bay. Matt searches for the key lock fitting. He reads through the manual but its all japanese. He studies the picture.

A big polynesian dude comes up.

Either before or after there might be the polynesian client  monologue, when polynesian guys are ordering CD’s and DVD’s.

He says his daughter has a BMW and opens the underside of the boot lid to reveal a toolkit including the key lock fitting. He then reveals how the Jack is fitted. Matt is left slightly ashamed of his incompetence and eager to confirm he’ll be able to finish the job as the guy heads off.

He is again alone and unable to make the nuts even budge. He buys more supplies and has a cigarette.

Music plays.

And he resorts to calling a tow truck, after the first few turn him down, he gets told one will be ther in half an hour. It’s quarter to 5 in the morning.

Matt waits.

When the Tow Truck Driver arrives he is the typical blokey Dad archetype, 40’s, built but not fat.

He boots the nuts with almighty stomps that twist them loose and changes the tyre, and asks for just $20.

Matt is free from his ordeal. It is after 5am and the city is stirring to life. What becomes apparent continuing the truck drivers and road works theme is lots of working class people are working and at 5am many more are only beginning to make arrangements for their long working day.

Matt heads through Mangere. Slowly he looks around and see he is a top the street which was the first property he ever owned. Matt’s Dad’s monologue comes in. It is aspirational and yet, echoes with melancholy that times have passed and that Matt is grown up and on his own.

Masculinity is solely in his own hands.

The job must be finished, Mangere must get a decent coverage, Matt is weary and warey, it is getting light. Working Class people are driving and are waiting at bus stops, even now before 6am and the streets are filling with more traffic.

It’s time to go home.

As we segue from working class to middle class back to the city centre we see more working class people.

Music plays, Matt drives on with a brittle and blank despondence. Ambrozia flashes on sceen.

“I think of her

We may hear as this fades into Ambrozia’s monologue.

Matt returns home, he is back in the city. He twitters.  He starts writing a contrite email to the client and checking google maps to see his exact route and report this to the client. At some point this becomes entangled with thewords of an email that is obviously meant to be sent to ambrozia.

He sends the one to the client, the one to ambrozia he exits without saving.

The sun is rising, it is a new day. A new day with new jobs to be completed. Matt will roll in his BMW, he will answer his phone, and he will get the jobs done.

Matt knows that not only hard work but the experience he has which has taken him to this point maybe the only thing can help him be ready to cease the next chance he has to experience something great.

Loving this from Wikipedia on romanticism. My blog is all good, I’m like totally misunderstood and a loner and I am so totally all about saying how much I hate everybody and just want to be on my own buzz.

It’s the romantechicism yall!

This from Wkipedia:

Romanticism is a complex artistic, literary, and intellectual movement that originated in the second half of the 18th century in Western Europe, and gained strength during the Industrial Revolution.^[1] It was partly a revolt against aristocratic social and political norms of the Age of Enlightenment and a reaction against the scientific rationalization of nature,^[2] and was embodied most strongly in the visual arts, music, and literature.

The movement stressed strong emotion as a source of aesthetic experience, placing new emphasis on such emotions as trepidation, horror and awe—especially that which is experienced in confronting the sublimity of untamed nature and its picturesque qualities, both new aesthetic categories. It elevated folk art and custom to something noble, and argued for a “natural” epistemology of human activities as conditioned by nature in the form of language, custom and usage.

Romanticism reached beyond the rational and Classicist ideal models to elevate medievalism and elements of art and narrative perceived to be authentically medieval, in an attempt to escape the confines of population growth, urban sprawl, and industrialism, and it also attempted to embrace the exotic, unfamiliar, and distant in modes more authentic than chinoiserie, harnessing the power of the imagination to envision and to escape.

Our modern sense of a romantic character may be expressed in Byronic ideals of a gifted, perhaps misunderstood loner, creatively following the dictates of his inspiration rather than the mores of contemporary society.

Although the movement is rooted in German Pietism, which prized intuition and emotion over Enlightenment rationalism, the ideologies and events of the French Revolution laid the background from which Romanticism emerged. The confines of the Industrial Revolution also had their influence on Romanticism, which was in part an escape from modern realities; indeed, in the second half of the 19th century, “Realism” was offered as a polarized opposite to Romanticism. Romanticism elevated the achievements of what it perceived as heroic individualists and artists, which would elevate society. It also legitimized the individual imagination as a critical authority which permitted freedom from classical notions of form in art. There was a strong recourse to historical and natural inevitability, a zeitgeist, in the representation of its ideas.

Just about to upload these place holder pages for the new romantech archive – good gloss over exactly 27 different chapters of the musical projects I’ve been involved in.

PROJECT ARCHIVES:

Dojo Inspectors – Soul Science
Album Project 2009

Soul
Science – Music Project 2007

Beat
Dungeon Radio – Radio / Podcast 2007 -

Such
Heavy Wings – Sampler Project 2007

Special
Times – Sampler Project 2007

Reality
Compound – Mixtape series 2006-2007

Soul
Science – Club Night 2006-2007

Result!
- Sampler Project 2006

Oceanic
Chill – Album Project 2006

Get
Real – Reality Compound CD-Rom 2006

Catguts
Collaborations – Music Project 2005-2006

Reality Compound – Music Project 2005-2008

Viper
Club / Liquid Underground / DBA – Club Nights 2005

Decks
and the City – Mixtape 2005

Short
Circuit – Tour Project

Lickwicked
- Album project 2005

Who
Loves Ya? – Mixtape 2004

Distance
- Further Album 2004

Further
- Music Project 2004

Style
Over Substance – Music Project 2003-2005

Paradise
Bar Etc – Data:Bass Nights 2003-2005

Mental
Illness – Music Project 2003-2004

Data:
Bass Network – Music Project 2002-2005

Data:bass
- Club Night 2002 – 2003

Pre-August
2002

Evil
Robot – Manuscript 2000-2002

Furver
- Music Project 1995-1997

Well I guess right now all I can do is post my blog.

Maybe if I post my blog enough times it will like suddenly into a proper sweet site and a wicked youtube presence and all the rest.

I still pretty bummed out about my camera not working I felt like taking it back to JVC and explaining to them how I been trying to do this shit for years now and all I got is one lousy Reality Compound video and it’s all kind of fading into the past, and they sell me a shitty camera.

It’s all their fault.

I go around doing my posters, I have to to get some damn exercise. And it’s at night, driving around the streets.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing the posters. I dig it.

Tonight I was sticking up the posters and thinking about my art. I guess I always see some other dudes posters and start thinking about what the hell I’m doing. I dunno, I got this mixtape coming together.

I’m older that’s for sure, I think about all the music and stuff I’ve done and I’m no longer thinking about how I have to bundle it all into something, I’m already walking around, the sum of all my experiences and everything I’ve ever done.

Sat around making beats and smoking up and wasting time, did lots of that.

Quite a few people liked my tunes. But it just went on and on. It’s still going on. Even though I pit-stopped to get involved in business, that story is till going on, and I walk down the street slapping up my posters for work and I’m thinking it’s all about framing.

My framing is now my character. I am not the best beat making DJ in the world, my beats are deep but not the deepest.

. . . these are my deep beats, there are many like them but these are mine . . . heh heh

I make music, but that’s not really enough to make people care.

I care about art, and i care about communication and I remember when I was younger I used to talk about using music and art to communicate with people in a deeper way then just uh um “getting to know” them and “hanging out”.

But whatever, recognition, understanding of yourself, I’m not just making beats any more, that’s not what I’m about.

It’s more challenging.

I still have to try and write sweet beats but I also have to kind of “be” it and also present that, do the youtube thing, I’ve made it twice as hard on myself but that’s where I’m at with my artistry.

Maybe the beats will be shit and the vids will be shit, but um uh I gotta be what I gotta be. I understand more now why I do business and write this damn blog rather than making beats because I think I said something about despising hipster scum, well y’know broke muso’s with no clue. I’m not into it.

I don’t want to be a muso if it means I have to be some broke wanker that’s everything in their attitude and nothing in their wallet. I’m not keen. I have to stay alive in it that’s my buzz, that’s my legitimacy.

Let me explain this: It’s not about money compromising your art. It’s about art disctating your lifestyle because your broke. I can’t deal with it.

My art is not about me having no cash and no flash.

But I still think maybe I am getting older and I should be encouraged to go away. That’s the pressure of external logic I feel. I’m not 21, it’s not fresh, it’s not new, no one cares.

But I don’t have to you see, because I’m in business and I can do what I like. I work hard and this is my hobby. In my spare time I like to go deep.

I think that’s interesting. I am not the big star, I’m just some dude. I’m just a businessman. I’ll put my posters up in the night. I’ll think about what happened once one night once upon a time.

I’ll play out my hand and I won’t bluff. I dunno some dudes are married, in their dead end job, there’s a desperation there that’s good currency. I guess my trade is in the fact that those ends are still open.

There’s something romantic about a last chance. Last dance before closing.

Poster Printing

I used to have a diary in school. I thought I’d want to remember.

When I finally became part of the cool group when I was 15, I used to write in my diary about all the drinking and teenage bullshit. But more often then not I only wrote in it when I felt angsty, so reading back over it just made me feel like my life was fucking depressing.

Let’s hope this blog doesn’t head that way!

So now, even though things are going well, I still have to write the damn thing. Work is paying off again now, I seem to be making progress. Progress towards that point where I’m not slogging any more, but I’ve had some big breakthroughs recently so I’m looking forward to that time I can live the lifestyle.

Don’t really wanna be writing on some blog when I’m on a energy high. Gotta make dat hay.

One day when I was about 23 I was at this party with my girlfriend and she introduced me to this chick who had moved into a flat after I’d cleared out – probably I think after some drug shit, so she found some of my stuff, including my diary.

She’s read the whole damn thing so needless it to say it was a buzz out.

I’d planned to go get it but it was something I just didn’t do.

Somebody had my intimate thoughts, my wildest unself-conscious  ramblings.

But now I have this blog so I guess it’s all on.

Here’s my story:

There was a piece of delicious vegan lasagna which had me reaching for the grated cheese, and now their ain’t.

There was a girl involved, then I went into town and got drunk.

Playing a free party this sunday at Fu, sounds weird, but hey, it’s free and A-Sides is playing.

Then wednesday, first gig at Lot 44 right up top on Ponsonby Rd, downbeat syndrome with the beat dungeon group.