Questioning Reality In The Condiment Aisle

Browsing the aisles of Costco the other day, picking up giant slabs of toilet paper and over sized trays of pastries that no one would eat, I turned the corner to the area where all the free sample people were battling like relief workers in a disaster zone to get their products to the hungry and the desperate, and was stopped dead in my tracks.



A ghost from my past had returned. Someone I had long thought dead, someone I wasn't even sure had ever existed in the first place. Staring out from what appeared to be a display of barbecue sauces was a photo of the grinning face of a man who seemed to be in a state of divine ecstasy brought on by a plate of indeterminate meats and vegetables. Inscribed beneath this grinning maniac was the legend, "Yes, There Really Is A Mr Yoshida!".

These words hit me like a punch in the stomach. I felt sick, then dizzy, and grabbed out for the trolley to try and maintain my balance. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, but it was true.

It had always been true.

To explain this sudden and unexpected shock, one must return to a different time, a time of youth and of innocence, when Costco was new and exciting, when its promise of 144 Mars Bars for a tenner seemed like the greatest thing in the world. When I was a kid, my parents would drag me round Costco on a Saturday afternoon, and we'd return home with vast trays of cat food, kitchen towel and orange juice.

This was when I first encountered Mr Yoshida.

I didn't go looking for him, and I doubt that he was looking for me. Our meeting was quite by accident. Just another shopping trip to Costco. This time however, things would be different. We trudged round the shop, with the crowds of other Saturday shoppers, buying the usual rubbish, and then I saw it.

At the end of one of the aisles, rising far above me, were hundreds of cardboard palettes containing bottles of a foul looking brown gloop. On the side of each of these cardboard display units was a smiling man proudly stating that, "Yes, There Really Is A Mr Yoshida!".


I had no idea what to think. Immediately my ten year old brain was awash with questions. What the hell was I seeing here? Who had asked this man if there really was a Mr Yoshida? It certainly wasn't me. Why was this box telling me this? Was the happy man on the box so fed up of having to state that there really was a Mr Yoshida that he had launched some sort of weird brown beverage just to stop people asking him the same question over and over again? What lunacy was going on here?

These questions and many more haunted me on the journey home, and continued to fill my every waking hour for the next few weeks. Perhaps the man on the box was Mr Yoshida, but perhaps not. It seemed foolish to imagine that, with a world population of six billion, there wouldn't be a single Mr Yoshida on the planet. I didn't need a box to tell me that there really was a Mr Yoshida, I could have worked that out for myself. But without this bizarre message, I would never have even concieved of such a thing as Mr Yoshida. If there really was a Mr Yoshida, what else was out there, waiting to be discovered? The world had suddenly become a whole lot bigger.

Gradually, I was able to push these thoughts from my mind. Every trip back to Costco, I'd inevitabley see that beaming face and read the words, "Yes, There Really Is A Mr Yoshida!" and the whole episode would kick off again. As time went by however, these questions just became part of the general background noise. As I got older, I stopped going to Costco with my parents, and I forgot about Mr Yoshida. Even when I did go back to Costco, I didn't see the mysterious bottles of brown sauce, or the towering stack of grinning faces. I began to doubt that there had ever even been a Mr Yoshida. Perhaps I'd imagined the entire thing? This certainly seemed more plausible than a packaging manufacturer printing out hundreds of thousands of cardboard trays with the phrase, "Yes, There Really Is A Mr Yoshida!" printed on the side. I had moved on.

This is why the return of Mr Yoshida into my life was so shocking. I had convinced myself that the whole thing had been some sort of weird delusion, and yet there it was, right in front of me.

"Yes, There Really Is A Mr Yoshida!"

Finally these words made sense.

I still don't know what those plastic bottles contain. I think it might be some sort of condiment or marinade or something. I really don't care. I definitely won't ever buy the stuff. I will, however, always remember an advertising slogan so powerful that it caused me not only to question my place in the universe, but also to doubt my own sanity.

Scribbler Podcast: Artificial Intelligence & MC Lowqui - Live

I'm normally at my most vocal when whining about MCs ruining D&B. Their constant gibbering gets all over the music, and it really does frustrate me when a track you love drops, only for an MC to shout, "OH CRIKEY, THIS ONE'S NASTY BRUV!"

Just fuck off already!

Having said that, the latest Scribbler Podcast has a brilliant Artificial Intelligence mix, featuring MC Lowqui doing a great job on vocal duty.

Enjoy!
http://djscribbler.com/media/Scribbler-LIVE-ARTIFICIAL-INTELLIGENCE-LOWQUI-23042010.mp3

For more info and more Scribbler Podcasts: http://djscribbler.com/

Turning Back The Clock

It started with Sub Focus.

I wish I could claim to be more old skool than that, but for me, it was all about Sub Focus, or more specifically, his 2005 Breezeblock mix. Then came High Contrast's 2007 Essential Mix. Then a few of the old State of Mind Next Level Shows, ripped from Auckland's 95bFM. Until hearing these mixes, my only D&B experience had been the mighty Black Sun Empire, a wee bit of NOISIA, and some Roni Size tracks that accidentally broke through to the mainstream.

These were the mixes that got me hooked. I can't even remember how these things came into my life, or who set me onto them. I'd imagine they came from a mate's CDRs or a USB stick or something.

It wasn't long after hearing the High Contrast Essential Mix that I downloaded "Now More Than Ever", by Logistics. Since then, I've been a D&B head, and never been able to look back. I've bought more or less every new Hospital CD, a whole stack of Spearhead stuff, and a bunch of other producers’ stuff. I can't stop buying drum and bass, and I can't stop going to D&B nights, whether its Hospital, Spearhead, Ram, Renegade Hardware, Shogun, Lifted, Viper, Med School or whatever.

I've seen Logistics DJ live so many times, it borders on stalking.

Over the last four years, I have spent most of my money either attending D&B gigs, or buying new releases, and file sharing, most often via the internet is totally to blame for this.

I consume vast amounts of drum and bass music. Some of it paid for, some of it downloaded, some of it live, but I know I wouldn't have got nearly so messed up on this stuff if it hadn't been the for the internet, that huge pipe pumping beats and news and gig dates directly into my brain, and this is what scares me.

The politicians and business groups behind the 2010 Digital Economy Act claim that the bill is necessary to protect the future of the creative industries in Britain, but really it will do quite the opposite. Time was when kids would find out about new music from John Peel, publications like NME, or just by getting out there and spreading the word. Over the last decade, the internet has crashed onto the scene, and the entertainment industries have (in some cases wilfully) remained one step behind. The net is now the most important tool for promoting and distributing content, and yet the Digital Economy Act threatens to turn back the clock to 1997. The DE Bill, far from protecting Britain’s digital future, seems more like Ned Ludd kicking his way into a server farm with a sledgehammer and smashing the place up.

I'm not whinging about the DE Bill because I’m worried about not being able to watch new episodes of Lost or South Park. I like buying music. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know that I’m supporting the artists who produce the music I love, and whenever I buy a new Logistics release, he can buy some more hats. For me, the internet has opened up a whole world of music and experiences that I may never have discovered without it, and it scares me that other people could be denied these opportunities because of internet censorship and the government bending over backwards to meet the demands of a bald man with a yacht.

Censorship and cutting off peoples’ internet connections can only harm Britain and leave us floundering behind the rest of the world. The country needs a Digital Economy bill, but one that promotes the nation’s digital future and looks forward, rather than tries to provide life support for an industry whose consumer base has moved on without it apparently noticing.

http://www.openrightsgroup.org/

Catching Up With A Month of D&B

Having been outta the country for a while, I've returned to the UK to find my computer crammed full of podcasts and various other mixes that have stacked up during my absence, some of which are so good I've gotta share the love:

• As usual, the Hospital Records Podcast is bloody marvellous, and it's always good when Tony Coleman goes off on a rant: http://podcast.hospitalrecords.com/HospitalRecordsPodcast.xml
• Fairly new to the scene, the Shogun Audio Podcast, hosted by Friction, is also worth subscribing to: http://www.shogunaudio.co.uk/podcast.xml
• Random Movement keeps things deep, with a lot less chatter: http://www.randommovement.org/
• Lifted Music also have their own podcast if you like your D&B dark, sweary and from Harpenden: http://www.liftedmusic.co.uk/podcast
• On a similar tip, there's the Black Sun Empire podcast. Always worth a punt, especially if you like NeuroDubstep for some reason: http://www.blacksunempire.com/
• Spearhead Records chief BCee is currently putting out a sort of monthly podcast on behalf of digital music provider Juno: http://www.junodownload.com/plus/category/podcasts/
• John B has also been running his podcast for ages. Grab it here for some high quality electro-tinted drum and bass music: http://www.johnbpodcast.com/

As for old-fashioned, "radio-casts" or whatever they're called, the Radio 1 D&B Show with Fabio and/or Grooverider is usually fairly enjoyable (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00948qq). Guest mixes can usually be found ripped and uploaded to dodgy Russian D&B websites shortly after the broadcast. However, it's not a patch on Nerm's old Electro East show on the BBC Asian Network, which was sadly dropped at the start of this year.

Also, Ministry of Sound have started a Monday night D&B show with Hospital Records, Metalheadz and Artificial Intelligence taking turns at hosting. Listen to it here: http://www.ministryofsound.com/radio/artist/DrumBass

After Action Report: BLOC Weekend 2010

I'm not writing a debrief for the BLOC weekender (12th - 14th March 2010), because if you're able to write about BLOC, that means you didn't do it properly.

Instead, I'm leaving you with a selection of BLOC mixes. Hopefully I'll be able to add some more as they're released...

Digitonal (pre-BLOC Fenchurch Mix): http://www.sendspace.com/file/kq6cn7

Luke's Anger (pre-BLOC Fenchurch Mix): http://lukesanger.fun-in-the-murky.com/podcast_fenchurch.mp3

Matt Whitehead (JakBLOC mix): http://www.mediafire.com/?14tdnmnajj5


And a reminder of why BLOCTV is so great:



Roll on 2011!

After Action Report: Red Bull Music Academy 3D Soundclash 18/02/10

Although this night was listed as happening at the Albert Hall, it actually happened in the loading bay/basement, which really makes a lot more sense considering the scale and format of the event. It would be cool to fill the main hall with weird electronic beeps and basslines, but perhaps this will have to wait until the distant future when robots rule the Earth. Or something.

Anyway, I'm all for raving in semi-industrial settings, and I prefer my music served at minus temperatures, so for me, the loading bay of the Royal Albert Hall was the perfect gig venue.

Soundclash was certainly an accurate description of the mix of acts performing; King Cannibal kicked things off with his standard furious D&B/dubstep mix, which was followed by Mira Calix's more chilled out bleeps. While both styles might not seem to compliment each other, they actually worked very well together. Following on from Mira Calix was DJ Food's Strictly Kev, who I fucking love and never fails entertain.

Next up was Chris Clark, and bloody hell, he just keeps getting better and better. There seemed to be some hardcore Clark fans up front, or perhaps they were just drunk, and unfortunately his set was over all too quickly.

The Bug (feat. Flow Dan and Daddy Freddy) were the only artists on the bill that we hadn't seen before, so we didn't really know what to expect. Their proper noisy dancehall/dub stuff was actually fantastic, although I must be getting old, because my ears were fucking bleeding afterwards.

Finishing off the night was Plaid, who I've found in the past to be a little hit and miss. Seems to depend on whether you're there for a rave or a music performance, but their closing set completely smashed it.

All in all, a fantastic evening. Kick arse visuals and fantastic music. It's gonna be hard to go back to listening to regular two dimensional music after hearing this 3D stuff. At times we were literally being bombarded from all sides by different sections of music, and I'm sure at one point it was circling the room. Crazy.

But nice.

A Week Long Mass Effect 2 Binge Helps No One.

One thing I rarely get from games these days is a sense of satisfaction upon completion. The closest thing I can think of is the feeling you get after finishing a really good novel. You shut the book, sit back and just let it soak in. The original Fallout and Planescape: Torment were two games that I can immediately recall as having this effect; Mafia and Deus Ex are another two, although perhaps for different reasons.

With Fallout and Planescape, the comparison to a good novel is perhaps obvious. Both have fairly epic plots, with fantastic characters (especially Planescape) and most of all, both were jam packed with text. (That you had to read. Like a book). However, with Mafia and Deus Ex, the comparison is perhaps a bit less obvious. As the last mission is completed, the final boss destroyed, the princess rescued and the credits roll, these games really felt complete. You were done. You still wanted more, but the game was done, everything was wrapped up and you had to shut the door on the beautiful, detailed worlds created by the author/dev team.

Increasingly, I find that upon finishing a game, I often feel relief, indifference or occasionally frustration, but rarely that elusive sense of contentment. So what's happened?

On the one hand, all game mechanics everntually boil down to the same set of actions, repeated over and over in order to drive the story along. I recently completed BioShock. It was excellent, and the city of Rapture was a thing of beauty. A wonderfully realised underwater post-war dystopia, completely unique to anything else out there in games today. The story was also fantastic and the use of audio logs to drip feed you information about the horrors that had occurred kept pushing you to explore the nightmare of Rapture further. However, towards the end of the game, I found myself looking forward to finishing it. It's a bit like checking your watch in the cinema, even though you're really enjoying the film. Shooting up labs and whatnot, looting all the boxes and corpses and killing Big Daddies. It had become too formulaic. Perhaps my videogame OCD (must... search... every... CRATE!) didn't help (and I definitely should have turned the Vita-Chambers off), but when it came to the final boss, I was slightly relieved to be finishing*.

But is the problem with the length of games? Call Of Duty 4 was non-stop action, but felt like it was over as soon as the opening title screen had faded. It was annoying that it finished so quickly, but at the same time, it left you desperate for more. Both BioShock and CoD4 were excellent games, and neither suffered because of their length. I just wish there were more games that sucked you in and didn't let go until the very end. Maybe I just don't have the attention span I used to, but I think that really, all game mechanics have a finite lifespan (apart from TF2 apparently).

Also, I'd argue that these days, games are less about being a complete package, and more about kicking off franchises and flogging downloadable content. With development costs spiralling into the trillions of pounds these days, its not surprising that publishers and developers are looking at generating the most income possible out of their products. However, at times I feel that their games are suffering because of this. The most obvious example I can think of here is Mirror's Edge. I really fell in love with this game because of the art direction, but it was nice to see an FPS doing something different by barely concentrating on combat and making it all about movement and escape (took me back to Jet Set Radio on the Dreamcast). However, fun as it was, this game was short. Really short. The ending clearly paved the way for a sequel (development of which seems to be in question after the first game failed to sell as well as expected), and it's kinda annoying to be sold the first episode of something, rather than the complete project.

No doubt if Mirror's Edge had been much longer, I'd be whining about how I got bored of it towards the end, but I really wish developers would focus on producing a good game first, and kicking off a money-spinning franchise after. In fact, this is what Irrational seem to have done with BioShock after it proved a surprise hit. The first game really has no need for a sequel plot-wise, but I'm very much looking forward to a chance to return to Rapture.

As for DLC, don't get me fucking started. That's a whole post full of ranting and bad language right there. It is pretty frustrating to finish a game, uninstall it and stick it back on the shelf, only for the dev team release a new level a couple of months later. I'm usually keen for new content, but it's unlikely that I'll be bothered to reinstall a game and try and get back into it for a couple of extra hours fun, especially not when the DLC pack costs £5 to download. I just don't like the idea of content being deliberately held back for release as DLC, and it seems that this will increasingly be the case.

So what am I trying to say here? That games these days aren't any good? Pfft! Rubbish. I've just finished Mass Effect 2, and this was a game that left me feeling completely content. Despite the fact that it commits all the crimes I've listed above (part of a franchise, open-ended, DLC on the way) BioWare have created such a finely detailed universe that it feels sad to leave it, whilst at the same time, this chapter in the Mass Effect story seems complete. I'm actually looking forward to the DLC (although that will probably change once the prices are announced), and I can't wait for Part 3, which is apparently due out early 2011. With Mass Effect 2, Bioware have created a rich, detailed universe and set out a well-told story in it. Just like Mafia and Planescape: Torment, you're sad to close the book on these worlds, but also glad to have enjoyed the ride.


*I feel I should just point out here that BioShock is indeed thoroughly enjoyable and well worth your time and money. Although it might sound like I'm moaning about it, this was a fairly minor complaint, and one that I feel applies to games in general rather than BioShock specifically. Go play it!