RIP Motherfucker

The problem with Estonia, my friends, is that it is situated in the Middle of Fucking Nowhere.

With no natural wonders to speak of and measuring only "slightly smaller than New Hampshire and Vermont combined", this ex-Communist state exists in a reality that is defined by organized crime, corrupt politics and quite possibly, a little indifference, too.

No one really knows how to get there. Or knows why it actually exists.

The same sort of problem applies to Teasers, in Sri Hartamas. Relegated to corner shoplot status by the likes of Coffee Bean and Breakers, the small club, formerly known as Chinamax, has been the traditional cherry-popping venue of most drum n bass/breaks DJs from KL: Acid, Mac, Six, FSKL, Irman and Johan have played there, in addition to international turntablist-types the likes of Vortex and SIV. We've had Loops nights, Funk is Free! nights and lots more.

But junglist christening ceremonies are intimate and spartan, in contrast to other forms of electronica, like techno or House music. In fact, it's an old joke that if you ever wanted to make it as a famous non-mainstream DJ you had to play your first gig at Chinamax/Teasers. Boh!

But Teasers is just the wrong sort of place to have gigs. Like Estonia, it's too small, and is haphazrdly populated by stragglers. The DJ console is way too high up and the speaker positioning would better suit a Hi-Fi dealership. And the decor, well that's just plain rotten.

But for all of its shortcomings, we never passed up an opportunity to get loaded, hit the dancefloor and rinse out the better part of our Saturday evenings. Even when the crowd turnout was like, 5 people, we'd still find a way to ditch everything else and leg it to Desa Sri Hartamas. And big up the DJ.

I guess that's why Teasers will always have a special, if not peculiar place in our hearts.

It might still be one of the dodgier clubs in KL, but for a while, it was home.

P.S./ The whole point of this post is that you can now go to The Loft at Zouk KL, every last Thursday of the month, to get your regular dose of dnb.

Goodbye Teasers. It was fun.

Fix Me

It's too late, now.

The way the entertainment press works, I don't think I'll get my exclusive Coldplay interview at all. At least, not within the forseeable future.

I am still absolutely gutted.

I really thought I was going to get it. Really. Could have almost been there on the phone with my favourite contemporary rock band.

Well, there's always a bright side.

I thought I'd post my original review of the album, X & Y, for the magazine. In it's entirety. Here. Because blogs are self-indulgent. Because I can.

And I gave them 5 stars:

Coldplay
X & Y*****
New daddy Chris Martin and the band don't lose any of their earlier lyrical grit or tendency for lush musical arrangements. The lads move forward, not in mysterious ways, but in predictably vivid strokes of brilliance. From the ephemeral spark of Square One to the hinted optimism of X & Y, the band dives into the deep end and surface with a cache of tunes that not only prove the extent of their creative abilities, but also serves as a reminder that some bands just can't ever go wrong.
Listen to when: You're not afriad to smile in spite of it all.

Parachutes

I have three really close friends who I would unflinchingly:

a) Pass the last parachute to.
b) Shield against an incoming hail of bullets.
c) Clean up their sick for them, if they vomit from too much drinking.

This morning, one of them left for Sydney, Australia. He will be duly back next year.

I feel a little lost today.

The 7-11 at Taman Tun was our final stop, last night. We were going to buy some long island teas for a nightcap. Sadly, there were none left. And since we don’t drink beer anymore (the vain bastards that we are), we just bought some coffee and sat down outside and mucked about till two o’clock in the morning.

We talked about work, music and women.

I wanted to tell him that I was a little depressed that one of my best buddies was leaving for a whole year. I wanted to wish him the best for his studies and well done, good luck with the new girlfriend, mate.

And don’t worry; we’ll swap our tunes on MSN.

Instead, I mumbled something about turntables, gave him a quick hug, and drove off, Noisia’s remix of Konflict’s "Messiah" sounding off my retreat.

Oh well.

There’s still the possibility that the four of us might end up in the same old folk’s home, racing wheelchairs and refusing cough medicine.

Reprazent, bro.

Ceteris Paribus

I don't want to try to understand life, anymore.

Or why people always buy Large Fries and never finish them.

It's such a waste of time.

I'm just going to have good intentions in everything that I do, smile more often and try not to piss off the rest of humanity too much, while I'm at it.

Now, get the fuck outta here, you've probably got better things to do.

*smile!*

The E12

The Ampang Elevated Highway is a marvel of modern engineering. Spanning 7.9km and built at a cost of RM754 million, the highway utilizes "pre-cast segmental technology that crosses six major roads without any disruption to the smooth flow of live traffic."

It helps me to get home on time, too.

What's amazing, however, is that I always seem to get the same toll operator girl on Friday nights when I'm utterly lashed from alcohol. She peers down at me, hand outstretched, and always gives me that contemptible, dirty look.

Lady, I like to get drunk on weekends, Ok?

It helps me to loosen up.

Besides, I don't do drugs anymore.

So, gimme a break, will ya?

If You Can't Beat 'Em

Being the intrepid traveller-type, I took a stroll around my office block this morning, during my cigarette break.

(I smoke less nowadays, because I have to leave the office to smoke cigarettes, which means I have to abandon my post for the duration. Which means it's bad for me, if people around me look and see that I'm not there, because I'm the New Guy. So, I smoke less.)

It's structured like a cattle pen: four sides of a square with offices facing the inside and there's this huge parking lot in the middle, and on the ground floor, there are stationary shops, restaurants and cafes. The parking lot doesn't have a roof, so if you leave your dog or cat locked in the car all day, it will probably get really dehydrated.

5 storeys of gray, framed by palm trees, the sun streaking shiny windows.

It is within this confine that I work.

People are meant to mingle during lunch but I don't talk to anyone. You're supposed to greet your neighbours, bitch about your employers while they bitch about theirs. I alwasy make it a point to share a smoke with the security guard and smile at the cleaners, though.

All things considered, I think I've been pretty self-involved lately to even say hello to strangers.

Swing! Swing! Swing!

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A few doors down from our FHM office is the office of The Malaysian Association of Fire Protection.

I repeat: The Malaysian Association of Fire Protection.

Holy Redundant Organisations, Batman , but what the fuck is that!

Now, why would anyone need something like that? Aren't our firemen any good? Is it some pseudo-government agency that works to protect fine, upstanding citizens from getting accidently immolated? Do they test building materials under intense temparatures to determine their resistance to fire? Do they insulate commercial aircraft for a living?

I wonder, what other organisations do we have in this country?

There must be a Malaysian Association of Lightning Protection. It's impossible to not have one.

What can I say?

I'm a curious bastard.

Young, Early June

Some things never leave you.

Growing up in England, and consequently developing an appreciation for Fish & Chips and dry humour, I've come to welcome June as a month of possibilities.

Sounds cliched, and stupid even, but come the month of June, I inevitably find myself looking forward to better things, as if driven by some inexplicably stubborn internal device that convinces me that people and the weather are now at their most acceptable state, that flowers are blooming unchecked and unaided.

And for the next few months, I'll be at my happiest, best behaviour.

Summer madness?

Meanwhile, I've survived the first week of work.

And I met this adorable girl.

And we've been talking, every day.

How long might this last?

I have absolutely no idea.

Meanwhile, it's June.