BPM Smith Blog: Rants from a DJ... Author... Journalist

Who let that clown DJ Pauly D in here!

Got a press release today saying the top 10 DJs at the 2010 ABDJs are A-Trak, BT, DJ Pauly D, DJ Qbert, Jazzy Jeff, Kaskade, Mixmaster Mike, Roonie G, Steve Aoki and Wolfgang Gartner. Waitwhat -- DJ Pauly D? Never heard of him! Well, until Jersey Shore blew up on MTV and even then he was just some cartoon character. I watched the show one time and figured whatever, it's amusing like watching a gimp trying to cross the street before the light turns. Dude's fine for the reality TV circuit but the ABDJs are about who's the best DJ in America.

DJs like Z-trip and Christopher Lawrence, guys who spent more than a decade playing gigs at big and small clubs around the world and honing the art of mixing on turntables, have won this thing. Now some clown nobody ever saw is suddenly the best? Does anyone even know what kind of music he "mixes?" If DJ Pauly Douche wins it instantly destroys the credibility of the ABDJs altogether. And remember, there are thousands of TV heads who will vote for him because they don't know a GD thing about what makes DJs any good. Now I'm not drinking many bottles of Haterade nowadays because everyone who is successful has put in hard work somewhere, but this has gone far enough. Vote that clown outta there!

I'd normally vote for anyone who plays drum & bass because that's my true love but in this case let's vote for someone already in the top 10 to give them the best chance at winning. Two from the SF Bay Area are Kaskade and DJ Qbert. Both are great. Kaskade was in the top 10 last year but fell short. He produced that fantastic album "Strobelight Seduction" a couple years ago and created the catchy and addictive track Move for Me that was my anthem for New Years Eve 2009. My girl Cynthia met her husband Ashwin at a Kaskade show back in the day. So that does it -- vote for Kaskade!
                                 __________________________

Keno in Reno!

What happens when you burn your poker bankroll in Vegas on horrible luck during the WSOP and Venetian Deep Stack tournaments, settle into some non-poker fun on the strip but madness happens and your girlfriend ends up at Sunrise Hospital? Yup, you reload the bankroll in the minor leagues. So I'm off to Reno and there will be no WORD'N'BASS Show Friday night (Aug. 27). Back next week tanned and relaxed from sessions at Steam Boat Villa Hot Springs, the hotel's pool and poker rooms of the Eldorado and Peppermill casinos. Don't forget Tangueray 10 martinis at Bistro Roxi. And Beefeater 24 martinis at the Grand Sierra lounge. And...
                                  __________________________

Balzac had balls!

After another late night DJing Downtempo/Techno and Drum & Bass at the studio -- and working in those tracks from Simian Mobile Disco and DJ Mettrix into my sets --  I slept in late Saturday morning and did the usual late brunch with Michelle. But instead of going out to Saul’s, Mama’s Royal Café, or Full House, I cooked my traditional French omelette: Salami, brie, scallions, red bell peppers, parsley and pesto with a pot of Peet’s Coffee. Afterwards she hit the gym, I procrastinated by mulling over French author Honore de Balzac.

Balzac is as famous for drinking 20 to 40 cups of coffee per day as he is for banging out nearly 100 novels. Dude wrote 14 to 16 hours a day in a prolific career cut short when he died at age 51, probably due to excessive coffee, tobacco and food. This gives me an idea for a challenge, and accompanying memoir called...

"Balzac Has Balls," a year-long journey in which author BPM Smith replicates Balzac's 20 to 40 cups of coffee regimen. Throw in excessive smoking, French food and writing.

Balzac Has Balls documents every effect, from heart palpitations to paranoia to mad prolific writing to late nights to weight fluctuations, appearance changes, relationship changes, all-night DJ sessions, poker tournament blow-ups, workplace and public melt-downs, emergency room visits, and whatever else happens over the course of one calendar year. Hell, there's even a book cover ready to roll. Best seller, baby!
                                            __________________________ 

James Frey + Betty White = not sexy!

What does a best-selling "memoirist" who is now a novelist do while waiting to deliver "The Final Testament of the Holy Bible," the second of a three-book deal with Harper Collins that can't possibly live up to its grand title? Get into porn. Or I should say, hook up with Marky Mark and write the pilot for a new HBO series about the porn industry.

James Frey tells everyone's fave tabloid the NY Post, "We're going to tell the type of stories no one else has told before, and go places no one has gone before." Question: Nobody's done a story about porn stars before? And will this be a memoir?

Meantime, actress Betty White landed a two-book deal with Putnam that starts in 2011 with a tomb called "Listen Up!" Well that's what the mainstream media says; in reality it was White's literary agent Loretta Barrett who inked the deal.

Subjects will include love, sex and celebrity, and will focus on her life during the last decade or so. Now if "The Golden Girls" ran in the '80s and "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" ran in the '70s what's that leave? An 88-year-old woman talking about sex. Do.Not.Want.
                                       __________________________

Beats, buzz and beatdowns!

Hot new album on tap from the British DJs Simian Mobile Disco. The album's not out till fall but their publicist rephlektor inkorporated dished us a phat track Nerve Salad. Yes, I'll be among the first DJs to work this into an electro set this Friday (Aug. 13) during the WORD'N'BASS Show. I mix live 10 pm-ish as always.

Nancy Pearl buzzed up one of my very favorite authors Emily St. John Mandel giving props on both her novels, LAST NIGHT IN MONTREAL and THE SINGER'S GUN, on NPR's Morning Edition. Listen here.

Sometimes I get pissed when the food is not served properly in the morning. For example, Tan's Cafe in San Francisco's SOMA once refused to serve my egg, bacon and cheddar sandwich on an English muffin at 10:35 am -- five minutes after their breakfast cutoff. Bust my balls you get banned! So, for the past five months I have not set foot in that cafe. Well, they're lucky I'm not some chick who snorted rails all night then at 9 am got hungrAY. For Chicken McNuggets. Because if I was, I'd tear their asses up like a Mickey D's window.

                     __________________________

Tour de Francophile, or, another excuse for cocktails!

"The ear-pieces weren't working very well..." -- Alberto Contador's excuse for being a jerk.

If the posts are slower than usual this month it's for three reasons: The media salt mines have brought long, brutal days due to wild commodity markets, I've been busy pitching literary agents about my new novel Bistro de Mars, and the Tour de France. Yes, every July the Tour takes priority over all other pastimes. Several things have happened in this year's race. Lance Armstrong went busto after crashing three times on the first mountain stage, Andy Schleck is (was?) in the leader’s yellow jersey, and that bastard Alberto Contador is breathing down his neck.

Contador, in a panic after Schleck dropped him on a climb to take yellow, on Friday broke cycling’s code of honor that says you do not chase down a teammate who is poised to win a stage. Saturday morning I tapped the espresso machine with Hudson Bay Café cappuccinos and watched that same rider Vinokourov make a sick solo breakaway. That would've been back-to-back stage wins had Contador not attacked him on Friday. Andy was not "in trouble" he was only caught off-guard because he never expected Contador to attack Vino, who should’ve vilified Contador.

My Tour routine is a mix of espresso-fueled early mornings with traditional French breakfasts and evening French dinners with cocktails like the Sidecar, martinis and Negronis -- a gin/Campari concoction invented by Italian count -- and of course Bordeaux wine. So far we've had Coq de Vin, Cassoulet, cold plates of baguettes, brie and salami, various pasta dishes and now my neighbor and fellow Tour aficionado Spencer is talking about roasting a duck. Just call me BPM Francophile until August.

Tonight (Sunday, July 18) we’ve got  a Tour dinner on tap and I must stay in a media blackout until 5 pm PST, so I don’t know WTF happened. Instead of waking at 4:30 am for Versus' live coverage we slept in, enjoyed organic Mexican coffee and drove an alternate rout to Mama’s Royal Café due to a late-night shootout in Oakland that shutdown the I-580 freeway. Homeboy whipped out several guns, donned body armor and went ballistic! Now it's midday Sunday and the helicopters are still circling near mi casa as I down a protein shake and prepare to dodge gunfire on the way to 24 Hour Fitness. Shall I wear body armor?

Let me make one (already outdated) prediction: Because Sunday’s stage has a notorious "beyond category" climb that finishes with a category 1 it’s Schleck, not Contador, who brought the heat and is poised to become this year’s Tour winner ... as long as he performs in the 52 kilometer time trial. Go Andy go!
                                      __________________________

Books to counter film industry’s summer of schlep!

I don’t know why people bother heading to movie theaters during the summer. "Blockbuster" season is here and it’s brought the usual brain-dead schlep, CGI clusterfucks and pureed diarrhea. Me, I’d rather put a bullet in my head than watch Prince of Persia, Iron Man 2 or Grown Ups.

Where the film studios fail, the book industry picks up the slack with two publishers launching new novels from some of their best authors. This week Random House put out "Kings of the Earth," the sophomore novel from Jon Clinch, the critically and commercially acclaimed author of Finn, and Pinnacle Fiction launched "Torn Apart," the latest from talented crime writer Shane Gericke.

Wondering how to ride the summer train wreck? Snatch copies of Kings of the Earth and Torn Apart to enjoy on beaches and coffee houses and boycott theaters so the mental midgets in Hollywood start making better movies. Instead, score DVDs of forgotten ‘90s cult flick "Romeo Is Bleeding" and the James Bond classic "You only Live Twice." Enjoy the books with cappuccinos and the flicks with thematic cocktails.

For example, tonight we’ll watch good old Sean Connery play James Bond with martinis. According to my trusty "Little Black Book of Cocktails" -- another perfect summer book to score --  I should drink several Vespers, "the martini made famous in Ian Fleming’s Casino Royale…" Here’s the recipe (my choice in parenthesis):

1-½ oz gin (Beefeater 24)
½ oz vodka (Ketel One)
1/3 oz Lillet

Shake well in ice-filled shaker, strain into chilled cocktail glass, garnish with lemon peel. And remember, when you’re doing it Bond style the shaker is a must. Most times I go either way but tonight it’s shaken, not stirred, to avoid "bruising the gin." Cheers!
                                                  __________________________

Fourth of July train wrecks!

I kicked of Fourth of July weekend on Friday by mixing downtempo and DNB at the BLR studio. The downtempo set was solid, so check my audio page Monday when I’ll post it. DNB mix was a train wreck though. Big fat FAIL! I hate it when you line up a ton of banging tracks but find your timing is off. Still, it was fun. Mixing DNB is kind of like cooking because even the failures are enjoyable.

Which leads me to the Fourth of July. Slept in late this morning, waking just in time to watch ESPN kick off our national day of gluttony with Nathan’s International Hotdog Eating Contest. As the host introduced participants -- booming their nicknames and historical accomplishments like a boxing announcer -- I kept wondering where the little Japanese dude went.

Takeru Kobayashi  boycotted the event and got arrested while trying to bum rush the stage after San Jose’s Joey Chestnut won for the second year straight. Causing a train wreck during a nationally televised awards ceremony? Now that’s doing it American style!

Afterwards, I spent the afternoon implementing Health & Fitness 2010. This included loading up on hemp milk, L-arginine, zinc and ginsing complex and pumping iron while blaring an American classic, Leonard Skynyrd’s Free Bird. Try that, loud, on repeat. Next I ran the Cleveland Cascade.

This evening it’s back-to-back barbeques -- at my neighbor Louis’s annual event and at Michelle’s, where she’s got a tri-tip steak marinating and Manhattans on tap. Let’s hope tonight’s steak simmers better than that DNB I cooked up. Enjoy the holiday, folks. PS: Don’t blow your arm off! UPDATE July 6: Ran late preparing Coq au Vin for last night's viewing of the Tour de France. By the end of the bloodbath I was too drunk to post that downtempo mix so it'll go live on Sunday, July 11th. Yae Beefeater 24! UPDATE July 18: Scrap that I'll post it sometime soon... Since I'm a slow procratsinating jerk here's a sphynx kitty cat taking a drive.
                                              __________________________

Chad Batista is a donkey!

Since returning from Vegas with mixed feelings about the trip it’s back to long days in the media salt mines, lifting weights in an effort to resume Campaign Heath & Fitness 2010, and of course Friday the WORD'N'BASS Show resumes at 10 pm. Vegas was mixed because I played well but the donkeys sucked out like motherfuckers!

My first WSOP tournament sailing along fine enough. We started with $3,000 in chips and I made some good folds to escape danger and one bad call when a dude shoved with two pair and froze like a deer about to get steamrolled while I mulled it over. "Trust your read," they say but my read was wrong that time. He was just nervous in general playing on a big stage. Still, I got away with some sick bluffs like 9-high after projecting a tight image, which helped me worked my stack up to $15,000 in just under seven hours.

Just before the dinner break I got moved to a table with an idiot from Northern Europe, a pretty solid Aussie, Internet pro Chad Batista, a meathead who tried bullying an old Greek man, and a cynical American in aviator shades who talked trash and whom I immediately liked. Batista kept getting all his chips in bad and sucking out. One time he was all-in with pocket 4s vs. 8s and caught a 4, another time he went in with 8s vs. 10s and caught an 8. Because he stupidly overplayed hands before the flop I decided to take all his chips at the first opportunity.

It happened. I caught pocket kings and three-bet pre-flop. Viking three-bet to $1,800, Batista shoved for $24,000, I insta-called. Nordic dude started talking as if to pry info from me. I said simply, "We already made our moves, do whatever you gotta do." He folded. Batista tabled a weak ass ace-queen, pwned! After I flopped trip kings and he only had a paired queen I was a 99-1 favorite. That’s when shit hit the fan. LOL at PokerNews.com coverage. They quoted Batista saying it was the worst suckout ever but didn't name or quote me. So I’ll quote myself: "What the fuck!"said BPM Smith.

I left without further word and chain smoked Marlboros outside the Rio until Michelle showed up. We spent the night drinking gin martinis at iBar, a swanky watering hole at the casino's heart, then had a fantastic Italian dinner overlooking the pool. My next event was another tournament of playing well and running bad. That one ended when I got it all in on the flop with pocket jacks vs. a paired 10 and was once again a prohibitive favorite. Dude promptly caught another 10 on the turn and I was outta there.

In contrast to my WSOP 2010, one of my poker buddies Kurt Disessa got 7th place in his event. I had asked him how he did it before flying out there myself. "I decided to always get my chips in good," he said. That worked for him, not for me. But I’ll be back in 2011 just as optimistic (wrongly?) as always. One day I will end the donkey stampede by slitting all their throats.
                                      __________________________

World Series of Poker here I come!

The heat wave here in the SF Bay is so intense it’s like I’m already in Las Vegas. Not yet. I’m flying today (Saturday, June 12) and will be there for the next week, when I’m playing two bracelet tournaments, Event #24 on Sunday and Event #30 that starts Wednesday, June 16. Both are no limit hold ‘em. PokerNews.com covers the hand-for-hand action within minutes after they’re played. No WORD'N'BASS Show Friday, June 18. Ciao...
                    __________________________

Hard to believe Noisia is a debutante!

Among my favorite additions to the weekly studio DNB sets in recent years is Dutch Drum & Bass crew Noisia. It was 2007 when I first discovered them while digging through vinyl at Berkeley’s Skillz DJ Workshop, where they’ve got turntables you can listen to records before buying.

Since then Noisia productions have been a staple of my DNB mixes. Some of the archived sets like last year's 420 mix and this one and this one have Noisia tracks in them. Their productions are best in the middle or late parts of a mix when you wanna drop the hammer and let the bass go boom! I always wondered why it was hard to find Noisia stuff here in the SF Bay, figuring my fellow DNBheads would gobble up anything they could find.

Guess that’s because it’s always been two tracks on a 12-inch here, one track on a compilation album there. Now, with Noisia’s debut full-length album we should find more gloriously dark beats from the bass kings of the Netherlands. What's unusual is it took them five years after establishing their label to put together a debut album. To me, that's like a kickass author who is widely-known and appreciated yet only puts out short stories and never bothers with a novel until years later. It's about time, fellas.

                                        __________________________

Memorial Day literary buzz!

Memorial Day was overcast here in the SF Bay which means it’s a good thing we sparked up the BBQ Sunday night. Smoked sausage, baby back ribs, grilled bell peppers and onions, cole slaw, Boont Amber Ale, the prime stuff. Since it’s a national holiday I spent today sleeping in then dosing on Peet’s double cappuccinos and catching up with all things literary. Here’s a few fun links:

Bill Clegg has cut so many big time deals at William Morris he’s among a handful of literary agents the book industry widely calls a uberagent. He once went on a crack rampage, dissolved into a sex and drugs abyss and fell off the map. Que up Michael Jordan: "I’m back!" With a memoir "Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man" from Hachette Book Group that folks in the biznis have buzzed about since it was sold eons ago -- in 2008. The New York Times gives him the full treatment.

Last week Publishers Weekly did a piece on crime writer JA Konrath’s deal with Amazon Encore that told an interesting but incomplete story. Konrath put them on blast with a point-for-point rebuttal at his blog. Now he’s giving away free eBooks from his Jacqueline "Jack" Daniels series of thrillers set in Chicago. He says steal this eBook, piracy is good. I don’t know about that but am always happy to dish WNB readers free stuff when authors or DJs are cool with it.

I recently started reading a new novel about a vampire/bodyguard for the President of the United States, a thriller that scored Christopher Farnsworth a three-book deal with Putnam. "Blood Oath" is in stores now and I’ll post a bit on it soon on the homepage. Meantime check out the President’s Vampire site.

Emily St. John Mandel’s new novel The Singer’s Gun now has a trailer. I like the mysterious vibe cut to phat beats, but who was the producer they used? It’s at Vimeo.com.
                                                    __________________________

Looking to summer beats (not those kind)!

Nothing evokes the vibe of summer like deep house music. It brings to mind beaches, hot bikini babes and suntans for those of us who are unafraid of skin cancer. Looks like this summer’s theme song will come from one of Nervous Records’ artists Theo, Boris, Nicolas Matar or Willie Graff. Maybe all of them? The iconic NYC label’s got albums from each set to the theme of steamy summer days.

Wanna know what else evokes memories of summer heat? The World Series of Poker, in June and July, when it’s 120 freaking degrees in Las Vegas. I’m playing this year… just booked the trip. Virgin America as I do whenever possible. They have ambient blue lights, play downtempo electronic music in the cabin, and minimal chaos. American Airlines fucked me to and from Chicago with their horrible music, one lame movie we all had to watch (or not) and by dumping a sick and screaming toddler next to me. Naturally I got her virus and therefore America joins Delta and Alaska Airlines in the BPM Banned Section.

I will hit Vegas June 12-18 and play in two no limit hold ‘em events that week. Now all I gotta do is resume playing poker. It’s been such a grind of business writing and travel this year I pretty much fell off the local circuit and skipped two World Poker Tour events I normally play here in California. No more. Starting tonight at Artichoke Joe’s I am back. Let’s hope the donkeys don’t immediately circle me with their idiotic calls in hopes of issuing bad beats. UPDATE: Got 12th place, two spots from the final table. Not as rusty as expected. Still have lots of work before I am battle ready for the WSOP.
                                        __________________________

Return of the Tilted Kilt!

I hit the road once again for a business trip last week. Have I mentioned the day job is in the financial media? It’s fun, I get to write plenty, but it’s also a hard grind. Last time was Amsterdam, this time Chicago. More of the same: meetings, cocktail parties, press conferences and side action.

Most big stories happen outside the official events. They happen in face-to-face meetings between commodity traders from around the world. My job is to infiltrate. No, it’s to do meetings day and night with said traders so I can report what’s happening behind the scenes.

It’s a relief to leave the 16-hour days behind but in the midst of deadline pressure and constant shuffling from hotel suites, bars and lounges we did have some fun. One night after a cocktail party we hit Ditka’s for chops and drinks. They serve the best pork chops I’ve ever had. Since I’d already started drinking Saphire I skipped the wine and did a Tangeray martini. Apparently it's a Chicago thing to have blue cheese stuffed olives in martinis. Don’t want.

Other highlights included the swanky Drake Hotel, where Queen Elizabeth stayed years ago and Joe Dimaggio carved "MM" onto a restaurant table. That’s Marilyn Monroe. Also, fois gras and steak at Nomi, on the seventh floor of another hotel, and hotties at the Tilted Kilt.

One night we were about to hit an Italian joint when a friend from Montreal said, "I gotta see the Canadians beat the Penguins." We did so at this legendary sports bar I last enjoyed during the 2007 World Series of Poker at the Rio in Vegas. The Celtic-themed bar famous for scantily clad waitresses is no longer at the Rio, which will put a damper on my WSOP experience next month. But from now on every visit to Chicago will include a stop. I <3 the Tilted Kilt waitresses.
                                         __________________________

Oakland cops kill Bambi, Russell is a junkie!
 
Women in my neighborhood are getting carjacked and bashed with hammers by criminals, yet the only signs of the Oakland Police Dept. come in green tickets stuck on car windshields each morning. Today they finally decide to "serve the public." By shooting a baby deer seven times until it died!
 
OPD clowns say they had to blast the deer because "it was acting disoriented in an urban environment" by hiding in someone's backyard. Oh really? Today in Milwaukee two adult deer crash through the glass doors of a bar and get trapped. Bar patrons liquefy the deer with bazookas. No, they tackle the deer. OPD's excuse is they're not trained to shoot tranquilizers. Yeah, they are only trained shoot live bullets. At humans.
 
In other Oakland news, ESPN does a feature on Raiders QB Jamarcus Russell and thinks they’re digging up dirt. They quote a bunch of people saying his problem is binge eating and falling asleep at team meetings. Fail! Try addiction to downers, painkillers and a bevy of prescription narcotics. Isn't that common knowledge by now? Ask his dealer.
                           __________________________

420 DNB tracklist!

Thanks for the love on my recent 420 DNB mix. Got some cool emails and messages about it, which are always appreciated. As usual a reader wanted the full tracklist, which I don't tend to post in it's entirety because it takes too much space.

Which reminds me of a listener of the weekly WORD'N'BASS Show who often used to call the studio at 1 am when I was finishing the night's DNB set to ask which producer I played 15 minutes ago whose track went "la de da da boom!" Often I knew and would dish it. Anyhow, for the listeners who want the full rundown, here's the tracklist:

Intro: Candyman (sample from movie)
Mode Mellow - Plasma Surface
Nu: Tone - Take Me Back
John Rolodex & Synoflex - Novocaine
X-Plorer - Technology
Photek - Age of Empires
SKC - Space Pigz
BSE - Potemkin (remix)
Outer Space - Creature Noises
Nu: Tone - Beliefs
High Contrast - Make it Tonight
BSE & Chris Su - track unknown (remix)
D.Kay - Eternal Love
Cord - Mental Silence
                                __________________________    

Bullet blasts through studio!

"You just watch out for the motherfuckers and hope to make it home." -- Studio sidekick Abdul.

As usual I chatted with my studio sidekick Abdul Friday afternoon, who had unusual news: "Some dude got shot right outside the studio. There’s a bullet in the wall... He died." In a city of 150 or more killings annually, this one didn’t even make the newspapers. Routine murder is no longer newsworthy when it happens so often.

Sure enough, when I rolled into the studio I saw the exit path of a large caliber bullet. Not some .22 mind you, this was a .45 or bigger. Someone even wrote "bullet hole" next to the blast. So I snapped a pic with my camera phone, shipped it to a few friends, and hit the decks.

My Los Angeles trip yielded a bunch of scores like new albums by Death in Vegas, Calyx and Teebee, Photek, Cinematic Orchestra and best of all, Air’s "Love 2." Oddly, when we hit Air’s show at the Fox Theater a few weeks ago they had no copies of Love 2. Is this North American tour not in support of their latest album?

So as I settled into a Downtempo mix it was disconcerting to receive a half dozen text messages asking things like "WTF?" "Are you ok?" "WTF?! R u serious…" Didn’t mean to cause panic, folks. In retrospect perhaps it’s not a good idea shipping gun shot photos without comment. Lesson learned.
                                           __________________________

LA parties like it’s 2019

Just returned from Los Angeles after a week spent at parties. First was Michelle’s birthday, where the food and beer flowed all day. Second was shopping on Melrose, where I totally overpaid for a 7 Diamonds shirt. Third a poker tournament at the degenerate capital of America, Commerce Casino. Fourth a night spent drinking at Hollywood’s drunk capital, the street outside Boardner’s at Cherokee and Hollywood Blvd.

It’s the kind of urban pocket where you take a Marlboro break outside this historical watering hole thinking, "Damn I’m hella buzzed." This is a misconception. Realized only when you spot a couple dry humping in the street, another guy pissing on the wall, and the smell of 420 from a crew of twenty-something hipsters dressed like Prince circa late ‘80s, all a matter of feet from three cops who ignore it all. Other highlights included a bar called Tony's in Redondo Beach with Chris and Monica, my favorite transplanted Los Angelinos. Every bartender served proper gin martinis, no fails to bitch about. Yae!

Oh yes, those of you who were disappointed my 420 DNB mix was posted on the homepage but not live, it is banging now. Sorry I blew it but in our rush to catch a nearly-missed flight I’d forgotten to activate the link. Here it is... enjoy it with a post 420 puff.
                                       __________________________

Parties, beats and pissing contests!

Litquake is hosting a book launch partAY of the humor anthology "You're a Horrible Person, But I Like You: The Believer Book of Advice" on Thursday, April 15, at at the Jewish Community Center in San Francisco. Pre-show and post-show reception wines provided by Mansfield Winery. That means it's time to get drunk. Cover's $20, tickets are here.

If I was captured by a dungeon gimp who forced me to read Bronte novels, watch Twilight TV shows or die y'all know my choice. Dead meat. My high school teachers and college professors made me suffer enough that any further torture would result in permanent brian damage anyhow so I'd tell the gimp just kill me, kill me now! The British don't agree.

Spanish producer/remixer/DJ David Tort hit the United States recently to play the Winter Music Conference in Miami ahead of his mixed album "Nervous Nitelife: David Tort" that launches June 8. That means I've got free beats. Click here for his remix of the classic Winx - "Don't Laugh."

Quote of the week: "I worked on it for 5-6 years and actually tried to have it published, but couldn't find an agent or a publisher. From the moment I saw one copy in between two covers, it was all gravy from there." - Paul Harding, who won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction on Monday for his book "Tinkers."

Today's literary pissing contest: Author pitches literary agent Colleen Lindsay of FinePrint Literary Management, a solid NYC agency. Colleen thinks his work sucks, ships a form email rejection. Man goes volcanic, replies back:

"Best of luck with your list of minor writers, third-rate writers, irrelevant writers, non-writers... Perhaps you should consider a career change: selling used cars might be a more appropriate profession for someone of your lack of acuity."

Colleen gets indignant and unleashes the dogs. Blogs about him by name, starts a "haiku" post on Twitter, then decides it was all a mistake and pulls the Twitter thing and closes comments on her blog. Rodney King, drinking Crown Royal, pulls up in a '76 Caprice and shouts, "Can't we all just get along?!"
                                             __________________________

Oakland lounge scene heats up with Air!

No WORD'N'BASS Show this week because I'm catching French downtempo band Air, who are playing Oaktown Friday night. It's their first Bay Area show in three years and this time I'm not missing them. Way back in 2007 they and Cinematic Orchestra played San Francisco club Bimbo's on consecutive nights and I had to choose between the two.

Now I <3 both bands equally but is it a boatload of martinis and Cinematic on a Saturday night or Air and fewer cocktails on a Sunday? Easy choice. This time I am there like nair on a spring bikini babe's hair. If you want Friday night beats go ahead and bump one of my archived sets or check out the latest from Lantz, my man on the peninsula who mixed a sick mash-up this week.
                                __________________________

The madness has begun!

Spring is here, and unlike most years when mid-March meant playing the World Poker Tour stops in San Jose and Reno, this time I’m staying put and enjoying March Madness here in sunny Oakland. Two reasons: First, my poker game is rusty and I will not be a punching bag for the pros. Second, our local guys at Cal Berkeley demolished Louisville in the opening round of the NCAAs and St. Mary’s just kicked Villanova to the curb in their second round match.

The East Coast media bias is heavy in college basketball and I notice the talking heads at ESPN always presume California teams will get drubbed against the "big boys." Well, they can put Villanova and Louisville in a pipe and smoke them because the West is the best bitches! Next up for St. Mary’s is the Sweet 16. Cal meanwhile goes against top seeded Duke on Sunday, which makes me a bit nervous.

Also causing anxiety are the many television ads that drop American IQs by two points per hour. I am not used to TV. Unless the Olympics, WSOP or a major boxing match are happening I just don’t watch it. What CBS needs to do is take a lesson from Japanese television and run some interesting ads like this. I’m not sure what the dog is trying to say or what kind of hallucinogenic drugs they fed the kid… but I like. UPDATE: Cal is busto and I now predict Duke crushes everyone to win.
                                      __________________________

Amsterdam is great but their martinis are not!

WNB.com has been neglected recently because I had to hit Amsterdam. With my return I'll be posting lots of new audio and stories about some brilliant authors and DJs. First off is the latest from Chus & Ceballos, one of the best House music duos today. As for Amsterdam, my take is it's the bomb. A very clean city with the taxis nearly all Mercedes, hearty and elegant food, and nice people with the exception of one insane cab driver. Since this was a business trip and my day job is in financial news, I attended a few cocktail parties. One was on a heated boat that trolled through the city's canals.

Every cocktail party featured an open bar. The boat party had smoking hot Danish bartenders serving wine, beer and liquor including gin. They also served great food. The boat was jammed to capacity with 80% men in suits and just 20% women. Some of these women were really smart. That evidently helped them make it to the top of the corporate food chain. I admire these women who are able blow up in a male dominated industry.

Lots of schmoozing, gossip and deals happen at such events. I was pleased to meet an analyst from the Royal Bank of Scotland who said he will take me to dinner when I hit London later this year at a joint with a cigar bar. He found it amusing we Americans cannot enjoy a Cuban cigar here in the states due to the embargo. As the boat cruised along we passed some odd sites like a submarine parked in a bay but I was too busy drinking and talking to notice much except the nighttime views of Amsterdam are dramatic.

Hit a few good restaurants in town including one called Sluizer. Went there with a bunch of European journalists including from the Czech republic, Finland and Germany. I was the American who demanded a martini when the bar was closed. The Czech guy, an American expatriate for 15 years, said his current country drinks more beer per capita than anywhere on Earth: "They figure it's not even like alcohol, it's like water."

Late that night we got stranded and ended up staggering through downtown Amsterdam until finding a cabbie who was sleeping and got pissed when I woke him for a GD ride. A cabbie who doesn't actually want a fare? He had a great quote though: "It's been cold here for three months straight. This city is shit."

I beg to differ. Another night we hit a fantastic restaurant/club in downtown. Thirty of us ate antipasti, mahi tuna, shrimp and fish balls, ribeye steak with french fries (yes they use mayonaise instead of ketchup and yes it's gross) and chocolate molten cake. Lots of wine. Downstairs was a night club that had house, trance and techno music, my kind of joint. They let you smoke inside so my suit now needs to hit the dry cleaners for the second time in a week but it was worth it.

On my last night I ran into an American salesman from Atlanta who sat drinking Grolsch beer at the hotel bar. What are you drinking? Gin martini, of course. This led to my only complaint about Amsterdam: Getting a proper martini was impossible. It simply is not a martini town like San Francisco. I struck out at a bunch of bars, restaurants and clubs. One place served a concoction of gin and vermouth in a water glass, on ice. WTF? A nightclub couldn’t make a martini outright and I ended up settling on gin and tonics. Even the hotel bar garnished martinis with a lemon rind instead of olives. The bartender gave me the side-eye when I said, "Wait a minute, you don't even have olives?"

On the 11-hour flight home, which consisted of drop dead gorgeous Danish stewardesses strutting the aisle in bright blue uniforms, the occasional screaming toddler whose mothers didn't do enough to shut them up, and long hours of misery muted by vicodin and new D&G aviators scored at the Amsterdam airport, I read Emily St. John Mandel's latest novel "The Singer's Gun." Wow, what a writer she is. No sophomore slump here. Catch it when her new novel launches this May. I will hopefully do a Q&A with her in April so y'all can learn more about her. Meantime, now that I'm back in sunny California it is time for a proper martini: 80% Tanqueray gin, 20% Noilly Prat extra dry vermouth, two green olives looking at me through a chilled cocktail glass with happy red eyes. It's great to be home.
                                     __________________________

Topics not related to the Super Bowl!

The Saints are up 13-10 over the Colts in the third quarter as half the US population spends "Super Sunday" guzzling Budweiser and stuffing their faces with cardboard pizza, Cheetos and chicken wings. Not me. I’m sipping Gatorade and preparing to run the Cleveland Cascade while monitoring how many games the NY Knicks are out of playoff contention -- forget about the GS Warriors’ hopeless season of misery -- and how many consecutive knockouts Edwin Valero can score. Answer: After losing to Lebron James and the Cavs it’s 13.5 games behind the Celtics, and 27 and counting after Valero’s KO on Saturday.

Not interested in football? Good, then get your vote on! The International Dance Music Awards are open for biznis. In all categories I'm voting for folks with either a San Fracisco Bay Area connection or a favorite musical genre like DNB or Tribal House --- not that bubble gum pseudo Techno or pop "artists," who IMO shouldn’t even be at the IDMAs. They have the Grammys and a billion other music awards shows. Still, the IDMA nominees bring both easy and difficult choices.

Best terrestrial radio station? Obviously KNGY 92.7 representing San Francisco! Then it gets tough. Best American DJ? Kaskade, a local who has mastered the catchy Trance hook, or Roger Sanchez, who helped bring tribal and progressive House to a mainstream audience? Best radio mix show DJ? Well, since BPM Smith didn’t get nominated that’s another tough choice. Armin Van Buuren, Tiesto and Pete Tong each do fantastic work. There are 57 categories total so eventually we’ll just have to pick and submit our votes before polls close Feb. 26.

Does the death of J.D. Salinger represent the end of great American literature? No, but when you group him with his peers like Norman Mailer, Kurt Vonnegut, Saul Bellow and John Updike, it sure as hell represents the end of a great era. The Guardian story for some reason excludes my man Charles Bukowski though.

Massive Attack has a new album out! But it sucks, according to Stuff, which makes comparisons to Coldplay and Sting. Whoa... If that’s true then let’s all listen to their 1998 album Mezzanine for the 298th time. And burst in tears.

Drum & Bass DJ Aphrodite, returning to the USA in the near future and still playing shows practically every week after so many years on the decks, gives the BBC his take on today’s DNB parties, pirate radio, Acid House and hearing his music on some TV show called "CSI."

Sometimes our attention must turn to things unrelated to books and beats. This is observed in complex mathematical equations. British + bikini + pretty tattoos + hot tub  =  Jessica-Jane Clement, the hottest woman on Earth. Ever.
                                    __________________________

Female robots hotter in concept than reality -- for now!

"It’s too bad she won’t live! But then again, who does?" -- Gaff, in "Blade Runner"

Now that my novel Bistro de Mars is written, re-written, copy edited and proofed into oblivion I was supposed to pitch a few literary agents after escaping the media salt mines tonight. Time to move to the next stage in this project, right? Wrong! Because I happened upon this:

Meet Roxxxy, who may be the world’s most sophisticated talking female sex robot.

Wait a minute. One of the sub plots of my fifth or sixth novel that will be written oh, sometime around 2018 includes female robots so realistic that men develop fetishes and no longer pursue real women. Forget that Roxxxy looks like a truck stop tranny in Britney Spears drag. Does her appearance mean that hot, human-like robots will be more fact than fiction by the time I get around to writing it?

Pondering female sexbots is intriguing and well, let’s just say I got sidetracked for the next three hours "researching" what she’s capable of. Here’s Roxxxy in action. Feel depraved yet? Don’t. Just drink a few Midnight Martinis and watch a dozen other Roxxxy videos at youtube. You’ll feel better after your fourth or fifth drink, I promise.
                                  __________________________

RIP J.D. Salinger!

J.D. Salinger, author of "Catcher in the Rye" died today at the age of 91 at his home in New Hampshire. If I had to name one person who inspired me to write it was J.D. Like everyone, I read him in high school and it was the first time an author seemed to express the alienation I felt at school, teachers, parents, cliques and all those damn phonies.

Man, I’d kill to get 91 years out of this life because that’s not expected -- a diet of Saphire gin, Marlboros and Peet’s Coffee won’t yield longevity -- but it’s a bummer knowing America’s greatest living writer is alive no more. Facebook was buzzing today with lots of my literary friends brooding over J.D. For some reason I was surprised at how many seemed to identify with Catcher in the same way I did, then and now. J.D. also penned a bunch of short stories and books like "Nine Stories" and "Franny and Zooey," the namesake of my precious sphynx Zoey. But Catcher is what he'll always be known for, and I'm gonna read it this weekend for the sixth time.

The only upside to January 28, 2010 is the likelihood that we’ll soon be reading about auctions for new J.D. novels, which are sure to get fast-tracked to publication now that the notoriously private author has passed. Rumors have swirled for years that he was writing everyday in his cabin, hoarding these brilliant literary gems from a world he wanted no part of. I hope he’s finally found where the ducks go in winter. RIP, old friend.
                                       __________________________

Sara Gruen, break out the popcorn!
 
Sara Gruen, once a talented midlist author whose "Water for Elephants" (Algonquin Books) made her a budding star of the book world, must be loving the lineup they’ve got for the film adaptation of her novel. Director Francis Lawrence and actress Reese Witherspoon are attached to the flick and now Variety reports Sean Penn is about to sign on the dotted line.
 
Oddly, I discovered this tidbit the other day at Perez Hilton. When a lowly author makes the gossip blogs it means there are stars who actually write novels -- not just sell their names to one -- right? Longtime WORD’N’BASS readers will recall Sara blew up large back in '06! Congrats, Sarah! PS: When is "Ape House" hitting bookshelves? UPDATE: Ape House launches in summer 2010, launch date finalized later... Seems everyone is jumping on the Elephants bandwagon now. "Twilight" star Robert Pattinson is now reportedly in talks to star... If so, they will have to retitle it "Blood for Elephants."
                             __________________________

Cocktails and escapism amid news from Haiti, author Ted Sares!

The New Year opened nicely with a poker road trip to Reno (two final tables in tournaments, doubled $ at cash games). It quickly went downhill. Of course everyone’s talking about Haiti, where journalists have an easy time getting into the country to report carnage but supplies nearly a week after a 7.0 earthquake leveled the country’s capital are slow in arriving.

Yeah, I lived through a similar quake here in San Francisco back in ‘89 that resulted in death and destruction. But the scope of damage in Haiti is so much worse. As a fellow journalist I was taken aback by this reporter’s experience: Smells of death, urine and, OMG, cold showers and snoring roommates. The country can use donations for supplies, recovery and an eventual rebuilding effort, but more immediately the issue of saving lives is key. I recommend Doctors Without Borders. You can learn about what they do here.

Meanwhile Ted Sares, author of two non-fiction books on the sport of boxing and a columnist at Bad Left Hook, last week suffered a subdural hematoma and was rushed from New Hampshire to a hospital in Portland, Maine. Doctors reportedly drilled a hole to relieve pressure and removed the tube on Saturday (Jan. 16). Today they’re hoping he can go home and begin rehab. Ted, a fellow cigar and jazz aficionado with whom I’ve had the pleasure of chatting many times online, wrote "Boxing Is My Sanctuary" and Reelin' in the Years: Boxing and More. I’m sure he’ll be back to writing and enjoying his beloved Montecristo cigars soon. Hang in there big guy.

Amid all this bad news I’m not gonna bitch about getting sick for the third time in three months. Saturday night’s drink of choice was Theraflu and Friday night I pulled off a decent Drum & Bass mix during the WORD'N'BASS Show only after a "disco nap" and a train wreck Downtempo and House set. I’m still wretched but screw it: Time for an American tradition called escapism. The Golden Globes start shortly and I’m heading over to Michelle’s for cocktails, appetizers and the usual snarky jabs at celebrities. We’re gonna utilize The Little Black Book of Cocktails by churning out Classic Martinis, Vespers and Cosmos while capping on attention whores strutting down the red carpet.
                                   __________________________

Downtempo and dub tracklist!

Alright I blew the upload of that Downtempo and Dub mix I posted awhile back. My bad. It should work when you play it now. Here's the full tracklist:

Dub Pistols - Ghetto
Papa Byrd - Soul Motion
Dub Congress - Dub the Hemp
Plasticman - Closer 2 (BPM Smith remix)
Tarwater - Lower Manhattan Pantour
Plaid - Little People
DJ Krush - Out the Dub-ble
Panaphonic - Empuma Bossa
Moby - Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?
The Crystal Method - True Grit (BPM Smith remix)
Kid Loco - Relaxin' With Cherry
Tarwater - Shirley Temple

Hope you enjoy it... finally!
                              __________________________

Oakland thieves must die!

I hella <3 Oakland but this busto city that has no money to hire cops was recently ranked the 3rd worst metropolis in America in terms of crime. Despite our rep as the murder capital of the west we only ranked 12th worst for killings. In the less prestigious car theft category Oakland ranked 1st. And no, I'm not shouting, "We're No. 1!" because last night my car got broken into. Jerks smashed a window in but didn't get the car stereo -- whose face I always remove ever since Oakland thugs stole my last one -- and they didn't get my amps and woofers. Hopefully Global Underground will send me their upcoming Carl Cox album so I can rattle windows in the neighborhood with it... Come to think of it, I should stop doing that. Cuz that's probably why these crackhead zombies targeted my car -- jerks know my gear will blow their ghetto ass car stereos out of the water.
                              __________________________              

Hello San Francisco!

Back here in my beloved SF Bay and am stoked the holiday season is underway. The Christmas tree at Union Square is lit up, shoppers are all over downtown, and our office lobby has igloos, reindeer and lights flashing spastically. It’s enough to make Santa real happy. Those of you who caught Friday’s WORD'N'BASS Show heard a surprise guest set by DJ Socialista, who took the first half of my 10 pm to midnight slot. She mixed Brazilian bossa nova and electonic beats. Had a fun show, thanks girl!

Going backwards in time, London for me was not DNB parties, diamond-wearing tarts and British accents. It was meetings with North Americans, Europeans and Asians all over The Strand, where I rolled through a bunch of swanky joints like the Howard Hotel, Grange Holborn, Charring Cross and Strand Palace. Also did a cocktail party at Simpson's on the Strand, where I got loaded on gin before dinner one night. Which leads to the topic of food. In London it's pretty good, so ignore the stereotypes and hit places like:

Gaucho. Argentine beef with any side dish you can think of. Seems like it's the hottest restaurant in London right now. Warning: Don't trust the matre'd to fetch a cab or you'll end up with an unlicensed Eastern European armed with a navigational device who will get lost. Johnston's Brasserie. Nice menu with some prix fix lunches, cute friendly waitresses in a laid back setting. Buddha Bar. Amazing pan Asian cuisine, downtempo electronic beats by their resident DJ on the mezzanine, and a giant Buddha statue in the middle of the floor. Best of all, when you go to the restroom you piss on a wall-length screen projecting images of fish and bodies of water. Weirdest of all, an attendant washes your hands afterwards. WTF? The restaurant/club produces a series of albums that a hostess said their resident DJ started. I got a couple of their compilation CDs that are now getting worked into my downtempo sets. Buddha Bar also has locations in Paris and NYC, so next trip back east I am so there.

On the 10.5 hour flight home, which I’d have missed if not for a sympathetic security guard who let me plow ahead of the check-in line, I read Sometimes we’re always real same-same by debut novelist Mattox Roesch. Fucking sweet book. It's an interesting story about a young LA gang banger who is basically exiled back to Alaska. Tight prose too... I read it behind aviator Raybans loaded on three vicodin and bumping Downtempo mixes on the iPod. Flying is a whole different experience when you roll like that.

PS: Some of my fellow drum n bass-heads over at Groundscore suggested I get new beats on Camden Street, where many record stores are located. Didn’t happen because I worked like a jerk for 12 hour days the whole week. Hell, on the last night I posted two stories at 2:30 am London time to beat out a morning flight and the accompanying drug haze. Which is why these are called the media salt mines.
                                      __________________________

London calling!

Another month, another trip away from the SF Bay. This time I'm hitting London for a week of cocktail parties, meetings with market sources, press conferences, etc. My day job as a financial journalist kept me from burning more of the poker roll at the LA Poker Classic, which kicked off this weekend with their $500k NLH event #1. Since London is ground zero for Drum & Bass I'll try to snag some of the latest and greatest UK producers, just in time for the next WORD'N'BASS Show. See y'all Friday at 10 pm.
                      __________________________

Reno, again!

It's Friday night (Oct. 16) but that doesn't mean I'm in the studio dropping DNB and Downtempo as usual. No, the Grand Sierra's Pot of Gold poker tournament is underway so while y'all are smoking and drinking yourselves silly I'll be driving to Reno for the second time in under two weeks. My old school buddy Dave's in it but in reality he's in for it. Because I cannot drink Starfucks my coffee brewer and Peet's are in the suitcase, with Marlboros probably setting off the fire alarm in our non-smoking "special poker tournament rate" room. 411: Last week played 5 tournaments made 1 final table, would've made 2 of 5 if not for a brutal suckout when as a 4/1 favorite I called a donkey's panic-shove with a dozen players left. Right call, wrong river card.

Speaking of the Biggest Little City, back in my early post-college days I tried getting the Reno Gazette-Journal to shift me from general news to the police beat. "That's a senior level job," my boss said. Oh really? Flunkies and junkies are police reporters because they work late hours and their sources are cops. So instead of covering methface criminals now I cover capitalist tycoons. Glad to be in the financial media and not the newspaper industry which is busto. But I still like crime reporting so "Tokyo Vice: An American Reporter on the Police Beat in Japan" (Pantheon) by Jake Adelstein sounds like the bomb.

Almost every author I know has one fear before hitting the road on a book tour: Empty bookstore, nobody wants their signed novel, most don't know who they are, and finally the janitor says, "We're closed." Well guess what, it can get worse. How about you do a book signing and lots of folks show up for autographed copies, including one guy who beats your ass in front of everyone! It happened this week to a woman who they're marketing as the UK's next star pop singer (I <3 British babes). Anxious novelists who are preparing road shows, remember this story and your outlook will brighten. Thanks, Leona Lewis!
                              __________________________

Just clearing out the email box!

Alright, so I fucked up Miguel Migs' free download when announcing his new album 'Get Salted Volume 2.' His publicist emailed me a new one and you can listen now.

When you get an email with the headline "YO," 95% of the time it's a fellow Drum & Bass-head. This one came from Analogue, a live DNB band from Essex, UK, who just finished a video for their debut single "Brainwash." Phat beats and hot British babes? I am so there!

Friday night's coming fast and that means I'm in the studio dropping Downtempo and DNB. It also means 10 new emails from Soul, who said a bunch of things. I don't understand what, "We now can give the World golden showers" is about so I'll presume it's good. Catch the show streamed live at 10 pm-ish.

LoveParade is no more, now it's called LovEvolution and they announced it happens Saturday, October 3, starting at 2nd and Market Street, ending at Civic Center Plaza. Sick lineup. Just a few names: ATB, Lee Coombs, Mark Farina, Groove Armada, DJ Rap, Garth and the usual suspects Compression, M3, Audio Angel, Colonel MC... More details coming soon at the homepage.
                                 __________________________

Sunday books, beats and buzz!

Everyone's on the thriller bandwagon nowadays. Longtime fantasy writer Terry Goodkind kicks wizzards and hobgoblins to the curb in favor of Martian babes and pirates in "The Law of Nines," which Penguin imprint Putnam launches this Tuesday (August 18) in hardback and ebook. Protagonist Alex Rahl nearly gets rundown by a truck flying a pirate's flag, and Jax is a woman from another planet. Hot!

That basterd DJ Slinky Wizzard better get to work. He's out of the studio and is instead trolling a yacht around Ibiza with my precious Sienna Miller. Dlisted rubs it in our faces with the bikini pics, resuilting in widespread leering and a 69% drop in worker productivity come Monday.

Thievery Corporation, which has been touring the world this year in support of their album "Radio Retaliation," plays San Francisco on August 28 at the Outside Lands Festival. Bring sunblock or an umbrella or Raid, depending on weather and the number of panhandling bums in Golden Gate Park.

Don't expect a sophomore slump from Emily St. John Mandel, who told me her second novel recently sold to Unbridled Books. She just sent them a final draft and her upcoming work sounds tight. I'll post details soon at the homepage. Meantime, check out one of this year's best novels Last Night in Montreal, her debut that amazed me this summer.

Speaking of Unbridled Books, I just noticed the literary publisher -- which also put out novels by Andrea Portes and Margaret Cezair-Thompson -- is at Facebook and Myspace nowadays. The indie pub is now touting their latest can't-miss novelist Mattox Roesch, who debuts with "Sometimes we're always real same-same" on September 8.
                                  __________________________

Sienna Miller likes Trance DJs!

I knew I should’ve got into Trance music. Back in ‘99 and freshly relocated back to my hometown of San Francisco, the Drum & Bass fever hit and I ignored the "cool kids" who were all about Trance and House. My bad. Cuz the adorable Sienna Miller is now dating Psy Goa Trance DJ Slinky Wizzard. Never heard of him. But he’s got a label Flying Rhino Records. While that bastard flies Sienna to the beaches of Ibiza I’m here in Oakland dodging muggers and maniacs who will bash your brains in with a hammer. True Story.

I mentioned the hammer-wielding car-jacker outside mi casa awhile back. Across town, last week DJ Mouse got jumped outside the studio at 10 pm. So, on Friday night I punched my way into the studio at my regular 10 pm time slot and after mixing downtempo and DNB sets departed for the car at 12:30 am with a Louisville slugger. You can’t be too careful in Oaktown, amiright? Speaking of the WORD’N’BASS Show, I posted my latest downtempo and electro set. It wasn't live four hours before a listener asked for a tracklist. I guess there are others who’d also like to know but don’t exert the effort to contact us, so here it is.

Sean Dawson - Allegory & Metaphor
Geotropic - La Continela
DJ Hell - The Angst Part II
Laurent Garnier - Forgotten Thoughts
Node - Reflux
Jondi & Spesh - We Are Connected
Gregory Tresher - A Thousand Nights Pt. 3
Pole Folder & CP - Apollo Vibes
DJ Hell - Electronic Germany
Neotropic - Nincompoop
Rae & Christian - Swimming Pool

Oh yes, my man Lantz also dished his latest breaks and hip hop set. No tracklist. At nearly two hours long it’s got too many tracks for me to type out. But I will type an official statement to the actress who dazzled all in Layer Cake: Sienna Miller, it’s time to step up to this!
                             __________________________

This relationship is kind of horrible!

Today I returned to the media salt mines after a week off. While walking in San Francisco's SOMA District during happy hour I overheard the following conversation between a woman in a sundress and her hipster boyfriend:

Girlfriend: "I’m fucking starving, okay?"
Boyfriend: "Whatever."

Evidently, Mondays aren’t happy. Their brief dialogue included three elements from British author Mike Dash’s new book "The First Family: Terror, Extortion, Revenge, and the Birth of the American Mafia." Guess which three. His publisher Random House is also putting out Frank Portman’s new novel "Andromeda Klein" later this month. I don’t know man, judging by their intro he might have hit a sophomore slump:

"Andromeda Klein has a few problems... Her hair is kind of horrible... Her partner-in-occultism, Daisy, is dead... Her secret, estranged, much older and forbidden boyfriend-in-theory, has gone AWOL... And her mother has learned how to text... In short, things couldn't get much worse... Until they do."

Meh. Let’s hope this trite marketing copy is Portman appealing to today's teenage demographic and he’s not actually churning out shallow prose "with a twist." If not, and Portman's latest simply fits the current YA formula, then it’s an ironic turn for the longtime front man of the Mr. T Experience -- which didn’t sell out like so many alternative/punk bands here in the SF Bay.
                           __________________________

Ross D and Lantz are not on the Michael Jackson bandwagon!

During the feeding frenzy surrounding Michael Jackson's death, various media whores came out claiming they <3 Michael from day 1. Even Paris Hilton came out of her Valtrex den to claim Michael's daughter Paris was named after her. "Look at me!" shouted the deluded. The media covered so many GD angles it got to the point where I simply ignored all Michael Jackson news. So he was a prescription drug junkie and ODed, fine. Bummer.

Don't think I'm heartless because I did appreciate the artist in Michael. There are many DJs out there who were oblivious to the pedophile accusations, the celebrity gawking and the physical train wreck of MJ. Take Ross D, a DNB producer from Philly who's making his studio album debut this summer. He remixed Off The Wall as a nod to Michael. And my man in San Francisco Lantz, who does a remix of Billie Jean in this Breakbeat set that I posted as an audio feature last year. This stuff was done before MJ died, not after. The rest are bandwagon jumpers.

I never sampled or remixed MJ in my DNB or Downtempo sets but I've got my faves. Forget about 'Thriller,' to me Michael's pinnacle was 'Off The Wall.' That's his best album ever, and my appreciation of him as an old school R&B staple was magnified when I listened to it after he passed. Same goes with other deaths this summer. I reviewed Gatti-Robinson I and II after Arturo Gatti's hot Brazilian stripper wife allegedly killed him. In the wake of Vernon Forrest's killing by random thugs -- who need their severed heads FedExed to KFC for deep frying -- tonight I watched Forrest-Frank I on mute while lifting weights and bumping this DNB set. Later I'll watch Forrest-Mosley I and II, and my personal fave Forrest vs Adrian Davis when he won his first regional title.

Seems to me the best way to respect those who have passed is to relive their best work, whether it's listening to their music, watching them perform, or reading their books. Guess I'm not alone on this. MJ's music sales have gone through the roof since he passed. I remember Charles Bukowski books were hard to find in bookstores after he died. These are signs that people are naturally nostalgic. Years from now, when it's not in horrible taste, they're gonna call the Summer of 2009 the Summer of Death. Watch your back.
                                         __________________________

This is what killed Vernon Forrest: 1971-2009

This is why most authors go into an Internet blackout on writing days. I'm spending a lazy Sunday proofing (again) my novel Bistro de Mars. No intentions of surfing. It’s catch-up time, since the media salt mines beat the novelist out of me for two weeks straight. I take a short break before dinnertime and the headline sinks my heart: This is what killed Vernon Forrest. Now I’m searching to find out why yet another of my favorite boxing champions has passed. There’s hard news and there’s expressions of mourn. None of it is satisfactory. I’m too nostalgic about Vernon, Olympic Class of 1992 -- the same Olympics my protagonist Jesse Kellogg is hoping to make in this WIP. After the shock wears off, memories of the ‘90s flash like the wild horses running through southwest Reno.

It’s dusk on Christmas Day, I’m heading back to Reno after festive times with The Fam. Driving a Jaguar past Oakland, the gas tank in reserve. We need to fill up ASAP, says my then-girlfriend Jody from the passenger seat. I hit a Union 76 station on Martin Luther King Way. While fueling up, a crackhead starts working the windshield with a squeegie. "No thanks," I tell him. He continues anyhow. Then a hoodlum in a black leather jacket strolls up and bashes the crackhead’s face in with foot-long pipe. Why are zombies converging right here right now? A flashy car. Gifts fill the trunk and rear window. We’re eye candy for criminals.

I head to the Jag’s rear, pop the trunk and put the clip in my .22, leaving it out of sight but close enough to use quickly if needed. Crackhead staggers off wimpering while thug stands there next to the gas pump. Jody’s looking from him to me, confused. I know thug’s leather has an inside pocket, the most common location for a concealed handgun. He pivots his head at me. I watch but say nothing. He stares, I stare back. Finally, he leaves. Neither of us said a word but we exchanged non-verbal messages of violence, appraisal, stalemate.

Once we’re safely heading home on I-580 East, I tell Jody that the dude might have car-jacked us but he was uncertain: What was in the trunk?  Had he charged it would’ve been a firefight because no way in hell would I let him take my car and girlfriend in that impoverished neighborhood. People disappear for good in those situations.

Now that I live in Oakland I avoid that gas station. No reason to go there, since mi casa is in a nice part of town and we’ve got plenty of places to fuel up. Out-of-towners don’t know the good spots and locals presume there’s no danger when in fact, there is. This is what killed Vernon Forrest. Back in 2005 I read that Antar Bey, son of controversial Black Muslim Bakery owner Yusuf Bey, was killed while fueling his BMW at the very same Union 76 gas station. Victim of a car jacking.

I felt discouraged by the continued violence in Oakland yet in an odd way, validated. First, because you simply don’t gas up at that place, period. Second, my packing heat just might’ve prevented murder from happening. Now we hear they came after Vernon Forrest when he needed air for his late-model Jaguar. Gas station in a bad southeast Atlanta neighborhood. He was packing. This is what killed Vernon Forrest.
                             __________________________

A boxer dies when he goes South!

Sad news out of Brazil that continues the recent trend of bizarre celebrity deaths. Two-time world boxing champion Arturo Gatti was killed in a resort town apartment. Hard to believe such a tough guy known for his electrifying come-from-behind knockout wins can die from strangulation by purse strap. After recovering from shock, my first thoughts were the epic Fight Nights that Gatti provided for my friends. There was Gatti-Ruelas at Bully's Sportsbar. A dozen of us enjoying burgers, ale and cigars -- back then you could light up in Nevada bars -- and growing restless as Gatti fell behind on the cards.

"He'll catch him late, watch," I told my buddies. "They call him the 'human highlight reel' for a reason." Sure enough, Gatti caught Ruelas with devestating punches to save his championship by KO -- again. I've got his two bouts vs. Ivan Robinson on tape along with one of the most brutal KOs I've ever seen when he put Joey Gamache to sleep in Madison Square Garden. Those were before the epic Gatti-Ward fights that are among the most exciting trilogies in boxing history.

Oddly, Gatti's tragic end also made me think about my first effort at writing a novel. South of a Daydream Wish was about a burned-out former boxer who kills a drug dealer and flees to Mexico with his smoking hot girlfriend. The journey doesn't go well. Gatti bailed to Brazil for a "second honeymoon" with his semi-hot Brazilian wife Amanda Rodrigues Gatti. Reports say they drunkenly argued the night before his body was found. Bad things happen when boxers go South of the border. While the external world -- cops, lecherous men, the conformity of society -- were antagonists in Daydream Wish they're reporting that the final antagonist in Gatti's life was his own wife.

Amanda Rodrigues Gatti was arrested on suspicion of murder (includes pic of Amanda) after she made conflicting statements and couldn't explain how she was in that apartment for 10 hours without realizing Gatti was already dead. They found him face down in his underwear with blood on his neck and head, suggesting she killed him in his sleep. Everyone who saw Gatti absorb tremendous punishment and come back fighting knows nobody on Earth could've killed him while awake. Some might expect him to beat the count one more time. Sadly that won't happen. RIP Arturo Gatti.
                                   __________________________

Meter maid flogged with Joe Hachem book!

I awoke Thursday morning to find a parking ticket on my car and got so mad I wanted to dump a bucket of pig's blood on the next meter maid that passed by. Why? Because I was parked on my own GD driveway! The City of Oakland decided that rather than solve one of 52 murders that happened so far in 2009 it's more profitable to send flunkies out with marching orders: Issue more tickets unless you wanna get another job. In this economy? Get cracking! Some say meter maids are just doing their jobs. I say they are cretins who suck the blood out of infants. They choose their jobs instead of installing cable TV or plunging toilets. In other words they choose to to fuck over the public eight hours a day. D. Wright you are a mental midget so FU, loser!

Remember when I found out 2005 World Series of Poker Champion Joe Hachem signed with William Morris and was writing a biography? Well, his book Pass The Cocaine finally launched and he talks about WSOP stuff we already know, throws in anecdotes about growning up in Israel, being a chiropractor in Australia and other boring tidbits unrelated to Vegas strippers, gambling degenerates and coke. In short, his book sucks so forgetaboutit. BTW for the three people who were wondering, no I'm not playing this year's WSOP. For the first time since 2006. Sometimes "life" impedes upon gambling.

Was bumping Sasha's album Involver today while proofing Bistro de Mars for the third (last!?) time and was impressed with his remix of Felix Da Housecat's "Watching Cars Go By." This album's been on the shelf for quite awhile and I forgot that track is about robots as a feminine ideal who will make all your sexy daydreams happen. In a robotic female voice cut to smooth basslines. Hot! I am so gonna work that track into Friday's WORD'N'BASS Show. 10 pm I spin downtempo and electro; drum & bass afterwards till I run outta gas. It's streamed live here, at WNB.com and on 104.1 FM locally.

Speaking of hotness, am I the only one who thinks actress Emma Watson is smoking in a cute innocent kind of way? Harry Potter might be the greenest book ever published but Emma's underwear are beige. Since when do 19-year-old women wear granny underwear? This is either the most recent sign of the Apocalypse or we are reverting to the 1930s. Next thing you know the young babes will stop shaving. Then we'll know the Apocalypse is here for real.
                                       __________________________

Bass + 4th + Tour = sleep deprivation!

Happy 4th of July kids! Today Americans celebrate our independence from the British Empire. I'm doing it with true American classics -- BBQ chicken, fresh baked corn bread and Blue Heron Ale brewed just north of San Francisco at the Mendocino Brewing Co. I'm also putting some British style bangers on the grill. Why not? I've got mad love for the many cultures across the pond whose immigrants made America what it is today -- as diverse in cuisine as it is in art and music. Besides, everyone knows I <3 England cuz British women are smoking hot and London invented Drum & Bass.

I gave props to some of the true DNB masters, UK duo Total Science earlier this week. Then Friday night I gave them a nod by mixing their track "Pop Psycology" (not a typo) into the WORD'N'BASS Show's DNB set. I headed to the studio without a Disco nap knowing full well that I'd follow a late night with an early morning since the Tour de France kicked off in Monaco. By the time I woke after the alarm's fifth tuba-in-ear attempt I already had a text message from neighbor and fellow Tour aficionado Spencer. By the time I incoherently replied "Yeah" and turned on Versus (they're streaming it live for those who won't pay extortion money to Comca$t who jacked up their rates and reduced services after TV went digital) he was already at my front door about to knock. Best idea: Watch on TV and Internet simultaneously to mute insane commericals.

This manner of punch drunk Tour viewing continues a tradition that we call "The French Breakfast." Wake up early as hell, serve Peet's Coffee with French bread, brie, blueberries and mango, add a salami omlette and groove to the ebb and flow of European cycling in real time. This morning's prologue sure as hell justified the effort amiright? We saw Lance Armstrong take 1st place for a minute before Alberto Contador beat him to claim he's the leader of team Astana while Fabian Cancellara killed them all. Young gunslinger Andy Schleck fared quite well for a climbing specialist. I predict he's the rider who will surprise many in what they're already calling an epic Tour de France.
                             __________________________

Weekend escape from biznis and thugs!

Yesterday in my day job I got a trader on the phone and before cutting into an interview asked how he's doing. "Burning out," he said. The beats I cover as a financial journalist are commodities and by their very nature the sector's a GD roller coaster. During the worst recession in 40 years? Remove a track at the top of Space Mountain, tumble head-first to the ground, pick yourself up, dump a bucket of ice or vodka on your head and climb back up there. We journalists ride the chaos with them because someone's gotta cover the Apocalypse.

That's why it's so important to leave that shit behind on weekends. Friday's WORD'N'BASS Show is the traditional kickoff into another, more relaxing and creative world. So I was stoked last night when we got new turntables to replace ones these certain Oakland thugs -- I know these jerks did it but they deny deny deny! -- stole from us. So I brought in a bunch of vinyl records by Noisia, DJ Absract and Klute that were getting dusty. The mixing probably wasn't my best but I sure as hell had fun. Ended up rolling an extra hour just for kicks. Won't know if the mix is worth posting till I rattle some windows in my car stereo en route to an overnight party with The Fam. Sunday I'm poolside in Prada shades getting sunburned like any good Irish American does in late June. I am so outta here Bay Area...
                                      __________________________

View Archived Blog