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All right, lads, we’re on the air!  Tune in anytime you like over the next fourteen or so hours for punk, post-punk, house, dance, groove, Madchester, baggy, electronica, Britpop, rock, mod, world, Northern soul, and whatever else we end up feeling like.  Good music, (intermittent) good conversation, and a half-decent consolation prize for not being able to be at the actual Haçienda Good Friday party.

Update: we’ve played the Three Before Eight and Frank Wilson’s “Do I Love You (Indeed I Do),” so that calls an end to this all-nighter.  It was a brilliant time and we’re definitely going to have to do this again one day, but for now, thanks for dropping by, and we’ll let you know next time we do a DJ set over at the Festival of the Twenty-Eighth Summer.

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triforce-of-brixton asked: hey ^^ would you kindly make me a songlist of motivational songs? I'm about to face a really tough boss battle in a video game and I need motivation to not die like I did in the other bosses... WHY HAS THIS GAME TO BE SO HAAAARD?! Thank you :D

Life’s tough and video games are tough and I know things have been difficult for you lately.  I made you a short mixtape, but it isn’t as much of a “mix” as mine usually are.  Instead, I chose some bands and musicians I know you like (The Clash, The Jam, Carbon/Silicon) and put together a few of their most inspirational songs, or at least, the songs that I reckon make you feel a little better about its being “you against the world.”  At least, they make me feel better.

Here's your mixtape.  And remember, as much as it might feel like it, you're never alone.  You've always got mates who'll look out for you if you're feeling down.

Video game bosses you might have to handle by yourself, though…

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This entire album is massively underrated, but this song is one of the most underrated tracks on it.

Rushing through the rush hour on an all-nighter
Never seen you look so young
The world really looks from this doughnut store
Such a funny colour in the sun

There are some of Joe Strummer’s lyrics that take my breath away, and while the vocals on Earthquake Weather may be rough and out of practice and less well-mixed than they could have been, the imagery of Joe’s words is enough to make up for all of it and more.

For once the traffic’s been conquered by the streets
Listening close the waterpools
You can hear the hiss and the leaks
And the rattling cans of the shuffling bands
Down the avenues of spare change
Forty blocks north in your memories
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Frankie Knuckles, the Godfather of House Music, died late yesterday, and you should know about it.  Because if you listen to house, or dance, or electronic beat music; if you’ve ever been to a rave or been kicked out of a rave or held one of your own in your bedroom where you were the only attendee; if you’ve ever been part of a crowd or part of the beat or stood awkwardly in the corner because you thought you didn’t know how to dance; if you’ve ever lost yourself in the music because you had no other choice; if any of that was ever you, then you have Frankie Knuckles to thank for it.

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A little while before Giles and I went to see The Who play, we found out that Pete Townshend had once written a comic called “Mods’n’Rockers” for an anthology about the 1960s.  We thought that was so cool that we took a few mods-and-rockers ideas of our own that we were kicking around at the time and decided to put together a short comic in time for the show.  I wrote the initial draft of the script in an afternoon, and Giles sketched twelve pages of pencils in a day.  In the end, we didn’t finish before the show and so the final touches were pushed back for months, but we’ve finally gotten it done, so here it is.

Script and letters: Mick.
Art: Giles.

(If you want to know more about mods and rockers: here.)

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ambrosigonalley asked: Thank you for the recommendations! Can I request a mixtape?

You can always request a mixtape!  I love making them, though it sometimes takes me a while to get them exactly the way they ought to be, and I love getting requests for them.

Anyway, I know you like the Arctic Monkeys and Fall Out Boy, and I know you like energetic or upbeat music, and I also happen to have personally verified that you are extremely awesome – so your mixtape is mostly pop, pop punk, alt rock, and music I would have called “mod” had it come out thirty years ago.  Some of the songs I chose because I thought you’d like them; some I chose because I thought they suited you.

You can find it here, and I hope you like it!  Tracklist, as usual, is under the cut.

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I know that, today, everyone in the world and probably a few cosmonauts on the space station will be posting songs like this to mark the occasion of St. Patrick’s Day.  Nevertheless, I appear to have fallen victim to the same mass mania, so here’s a song.

The Dropkick Murphys were my youth and young manhood.  For a good eight years, I saw them three or four times a year, anytime they came within about five hours’ drive of the town where I lived (and they did that often, because for a while, one of their pipers was a local boy).  My best mate joined their street team, so I unofficially joined as well, running up and down Whyte Avenue postering for their gigs; I’d stand at the edge of the pit at every show, or try to go unnoticed at the back of the room if it was a no-minors gig and I wasn’t eighteen yet; I’d go backstage afterward and have things shoved into my hands, posters and stickers and albums and the occasional beer I didn’t want; I’d wait outside Red’s, where they always used to play, at midnight in the middle of winter, half freezing to death while I waited for a rare night bus to come by and get me partway home.  After a while, they used to recognize us and wave from the stage.  We’d buy them pints and risk our lives in the pit to pass them up onto the stage (and the action in the pit at their gigs was pretty impressive; most of my badge-of-honour kicks to the head were earned at Dropkick Murphys shows).

They didn’t play this song much that I remember though I started going to a lot of their gigs at about the same time as Sing Loud, Sing Proud! was released.  Still, it’s always been one that held meaning for me, and, well, here you are, anyway.

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Last night, Giles and I went to the Tibet House benefit concert and well, this is Iggy Pop singing “Love Will Tear Us Apart” with New Order.

(He also sang two other songs with them and I’ll be honest, I wanted to show you guys their collaborative version of “Transmission” because it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen, but I’m afraid I couldn’t find any decent-quality footage of it.

Another incredible thing of which I have no footage was Mike Garry’s spoken-word poem, “Saint Anthony,” about Tony Wilson, which was set to a unique arrangement of New Order’s “Your Silent Face.”)

Anyway, it was an amazing gig – not just New Order and Iggy Pop, but Patti Smith, Mike Garry, Philip Glass, The National, Sufjan Stevens (apparently; we missed the beginning of the show because it took us five hours to get to Carnegie Hall), and loads more.

I find it really interesting, though, which names have currency with the general public.  As the four of us (we were with Christina and another friend) were trying to find our way to the stage door to get into the gig, dozens of scalpers outside on the streets waved tickets in our faces and shouted, “You wanna go to see New Order?  New Order tickets!  I got yer tickets to New Order!”  It’s fascinating that New Order are the band they thought would gain them the most interest from buyers particularly given that Philip Glass was technically the headliner (such as it were), Iggy Pop and Patti Smith have both been around longer, and only three-fifths of New Order were even at the show, playing a total of four songs.

Anyway, rambling aside – nine hours of road-tripping, three modes of transportation, three state lines, and three hours of sleep later, it was a pretty great night all told.

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Sometimes I forget that most of the people who made the music I love are old enough to remember being children, sitting clustered around a black-and-white television set with rabbit-ear aerials, watching the Space Race play out in real-time.  I forget that they were old enough to see the Kennedy assassination, but young enough not to know what it was they were seeing.  I forget that they were old enough to understand the significance of the moon landing, but young enough to believe that they might one day walk on its surface as well.  I forget that this music bridges decades across a changing world, but the Inspiral Carpets remind me.