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Archive
Tuesday, October 11th, 2005


IT.

IS.

HERE.

ATD10: CLONES. A brand new mixtape by me.

A new song from me, a bunch of bootlegs, some awesome tunes, a Bubba exclusive, and more knowledge than you can shake a dog at. WOOF!

Online now.

Tracklisting:

Akira The Don – Subterranean Homesick Blues
Akira The Don ft. Tom Petty And Method Man – The Joint
AKira The Don ft. Swiss – Rick Witter’s Jackin’ For Beats
Bearman – Beer
Bruza, Shizzle & Napper – Ave Some Of That
Skepta & Jammer – Swag MC Burial
Da Cream – Moving Remix
Lioness & Bearman – South Of Thames
Bruza – Pum Pum Riddim
Bashy – Death Is Just A Page Away
Akira The Don ft Leonard Cohen & Crazy Titch – Waiting For The Singalong
Monsta – Once Upon A Time
Crack Village – Crack The Whip
Gonzales – Too Long
Akira The Don ft Electronic & Mobb Deep – The Real Message
Daminan Marley ft Black Thought – Pimpas Paradise
King Geedorah – I Wonder
Fat Lip – Joe’s Turkey
Bubba Sparxxx – Wonderful
Carole King – Music
The Goats – Tricks Of The Shade
UGK – You Don’t Know
Ghostface – New York
Akira The Don ft Pheonix, Biggie & PE – Emotional Heatwave
Katie Melua – Nine Million Bycicles
Towers Of London ft. Dizzee Rascal – ATD Dun Seen It All
Akira The Don ft. Narstie, Solo & Spandau Ballet – Still Gold
Akira The Don ft Bashy – CLONES (Mothboy Remix)
Morrissey – I Like You

ENJOY!

— Tuesday, October 11th, 2005

Tuesday, September 13th, 2005

“It’s a popularity contest
You’ve just Gotta put it in context”
Chilly Gonzales, AKA FuckEye, The One Eyed Jew

Phil told me Trash had a new website, so I had a look. Trash is this club in London I used to go to every Monday. It was like school. For a year or so, me and my peoples went every week, and had a ball, like children. It seems an awful long time ago now.

Anyway. In the video section, they’ve got this performance by Chilly Gonzales and Feist. It’s pretty amazing. I remember it, even though we were pretty fucked up that night. It was Gonzo. Gonzo was very important to me.

I first heard the magic of Chilly Gonzo round my boy Erol, who run’s Trash’s house one night, after some party or other. He’d been running around with an ice bucket on his head, I’d been falling down stairs with crates of stolen booze, and we’d been hassling Norman Cook for drugs. I was so young then! I had all these different priorities.

But that night, lying on Erol’s sofa, listening to The Entertainist on repeat, was when I knew for the first time I could make music, properly. I don’t really know what the difference was between that and all the other records I ever heard. But that one said, loudly: You go and make songs, lad. Shit will be fine.

And, so, it was.

So it goes.

So thank you Erol Alkan, and thank you Chilly Gonzales – from the very bottom of my warm pink heartmuscle. Without you, I am nothing. As with all of you. I don’t think I can have a thank you list on my album, because I can’t remember the name of the girl who kept me warm that night at the end of the last century, when I might have fallen under some wheels, and who played me that Lamb song, and I can’t remeber the name of the boy who gave me that beating in ’96 and played me the first Metallica album.

You know what I mean? I am the sum of all these parts, and to try and suss which were more important is to miss the point of this whole thing, this us, this humanity, because it’s all as important. Every drop of rain…

Here’s a song by Gonzales that’s online for you to listen to. And here’s another. Maybe you’ll like it, and it will speak to you like it did me. Maybe you already do, and it already did. Maybe it was Bob Dylan for you, or Cohen, or Shakira, or any one of those wonderful people that held up a mirror to the world so the light didn’t burn our retinas, like the telly, but just so we could see. I wonder if Charles Clarke ever heard Leonard Cohen. Could he be so willing to sell us all into bondage if that were the case?

Well, some people are cheap, I guess. Some are bought more easily than battery-farmed eggs. If you have not heard much about Operation Mockingbird, maybe now is the time to learn.

— Tuesday, September 13th, 2005

Sunday, March 13th, 2005

Sophie sent me this shit but I have to share it with you. Gonzo’s Allmusic page, spookily, claims his real name to be Sacha Baron Cohen. I say spookily as I have NEVER SEEN THEM IN THE SAME ROOM. Gonz retired just before Borat appeared. Think about it.

SPOOKS.

I have made a new song every day this week. I haven”t been out since last Saturday, which was an excellent time, and I have smoked a lot of weed.

I have an inbox full of scorn at my strange suspicion that those benefitting most from the events of September 11th might just have had something to do with it (check this hilarious read regarding the US and Pakistan’s pre-911 preppoing! Ludicrous. I am considering shaving my head.

While Fiddy and The Game squash their squinty eyed beef, Arab and Jewish emcees go at it.

In my stats page, that tells me half my bandwith dissapeared last night because somebody stuck one of my gay pictures on their avatar and frequents some giant Canadian community where 30,000 people at a time communicate purely by the posted image… In that page, I get a top ten search terms thing, that tells me what the people who end up at my site were looking for. People are strange.

1 16.67% akira the don
2 2.78% stunners international
3 2.78% wade crescent
4 1.85% akira the don drinking song
5 1.85% digihad
6 1.85% hot 97 the game diss freestyle
7 1.85% jackie o feat. ying yang twins
8 1.85% oye micanto de nore
9 0.93% 50 cent-this is how we do copy and paste
10 0.93% aftermath music gametime
11 0.93% akira lane
12 0.93% akira the don samples
13 0.93% all i want for christmas is to get crunk
14 0.93% adam alphabet cunt
15 0.93% arena magazine abi titmus
16 0.93% belina carlisle
17 0.93% bloods and crips talking about getting shot
18 0.93% margo stilley hardcore pics
19 0.93% christmas freestyle rapping
20 0.93% cibelle photos

— Sunday, March 13th, 2005

Thursday, December 23rd, 2004

Iawn pobol!

I, and this goddamned website…

Is back.

Are back.

Whatever!

It has been too long, really. So much has happened!

And that is the problem, when one falls behind on one’s weblog.

Ble i defro?

Where to begin?

This time last week, for example, I’d just had a proper shave, at a nice Turkish barbers, and looked about as handsome as I ever will , perhaps, and was about to go and dodge pints onstage at Newport Arena, where Birddogg and I were supporting GLC.

I think, a week on, that that might have been the best gig we ever did. I fucken loved that gig. There were, like, 500 scallies all mashed up the barriers, going,

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

1000 other people going,

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORGH!

And a few,

Huh?

s

So, like, midsong, I would eyeball the front row scallies individually and rap at them. And at the end, I would clamber a podium on one side of the stage, and go,

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Then run to the other, and go,

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

It was ace. I felt like Gonzales, or the Phantom Of The Opera or something. Only I never saw Gonzales play thousands of nutted Welshers.

I saw him doing magic tricks once. That was good. He managed to pull an expert Houdini.

We got 5 missiles last Thursday – I counted. One was a pint that hit the SLDZ 1200. The SLDZ 1200 didn’t even blink! What a piece of kit! Had that been the plain old 1200, situated mere inches to the right, it would have all been over. Well, not over, but getting there. As it was, I cleaned beer out of my face with water, the lights came up, and the place went nuts with screaming lady folk and roaring menfolk and booing townie type. (I got mobbed by townies after when I ventured out to find Birddogg. I thought they were going kick the shit out me, but they wanted to know when the album was out and if I was wearing a wig, innit) Maggot and Dwain Xain and that fucken Billy Webb loved it innit. IT WAS SO FUCKING FRESH. I felt like a man on a lot of crack.

Speaking of which, Pete Libertine never showed for his gig at London’s Forum on Friday night, so his fans went apeshit and demolished the venue, tearing poor supporting Cazals equipment to strips. STRIPS!

So they never came to Wales on Sunday. Neither Ten Minutes, amongst other people. The London side of things was an almighty cock up which I could blame on Wade, but shall instead blame on myself, as expecting Wade to get together 30-odd people to catch a coach to North Wales on a Sunday morning is rather like expecting Pete Doherty to turn up to a gig.

SPEAKING OF WHICH! The Stunners International new years day line up has been announced. See ye the page of gigs.

So, Cazals never showed, but a couple of hunnerd safe North Walesers and the local constabulary did, so it was pretty dope. I DJed for two hours! And got kicked out by my own security for skinning up in the bogs. Wataru from Piranha Deathray (who, by their second set, were indeed the Lynchian Wonder I had been telling everybody about) got booted for throwing an ashtray at a reportedly crazed lady who deigned to badmouth yours truly.

My brother and Buff ran the door. Bryn Owen’s set was something of a revelation. The fire never went out. We had freestye rapping and beatbox from local safelads. Gwilym did an excellent job. Nonny, Nightingalian genius who ensured the coach was not a total washout, was very drunk and entertaining on arrival. I wasn’t at all drunk. I don’t think.

As for the gig, I found it to be the easiest thing I have ever done.

More innabit, I have to do some Stuff. Read this. Living in the future!

— Thursday, December 23rd, 2004