Who are you & where do you live?
I am Drax. I live abroad but I spend 9 months of the year in London.
Infact when I stop lying to myself it’s more acurate to say that I live in London but I try to be away as often as possible. Claiming to live abroad is a defence mechanism I use during the shitty winter months in the UK when I don’t have enough time, money ‘or both’ to be away travelling.
I’ll start again: I am Drax WD PFB & I live in London. North London to be exact. Virtually straddling the border between Islington & Hackney.
Meaning behind the name?
It stands for ‘Devastating Respected Anihilating X-pert’ . . . . . & if you believe that ridiculous lie then you’re a serious Charlie. Uniform. November. Tango.
Truthfully, I stole my name from the James Bond film ‘Moonraker’. Drax was the film’s bad-guy but I didn’t have any real interest in being a bad guy. He was also hell bent on World Domination. Which despite the fact that 2 years later I formed a crew called WorlDomination, was something else I wasn’t aiming for. Truthfully I just liked the way the word sounded. I felt that the X gave it dynamism & it sounded to me like what I thought the name of a prolific writer (which is what I wanted to be) should sound like. I didn’t want a nickname I wanted a tag & I thought the word Drax fitted the job description. I still do, hence I still write it.
Choosing your name is quite possibly the most important thing you will do as a writer. I’m happy with the choice I made.
When did you start writing and why?
I started writing in 1979 in the South Bronx. T-Kid, Seen, Duster, Min One & many of NYC’s finest often mention me as an inspiration & someone they learnt from.
Yes! Another fucking lie . . . Though it is true that I first noticed the phenomenon of people writing on walls as early as 1980, when I became intrigued by the concept.
I was like many other kids ‘a young man in search of identity’. Graffiti writing interested me & I longed to learn more about it. By 1983 I was sure that I wanted to be ‘one of these people’ but I still had no idea who they were or even what they called themselves. Hip hop & specifically the documentary Style Warz brought the images & fokelore of graffiti writing onto our TV screens in the mid 80’s & armed thus with a new plethora of information I sold my soul to the devil & joined this covenet of wrongdoers. Drax: Established 1985. The story continues . . . .
Who were your main influences when you started?
I was infact bullied into writing by the sinister street hoodlum that nowadays masquerades under the name Skore TRC. TRC = Troubled Children. I was one of these Troubled children. If I was Oliver Twist then Skore was most certainly Fagin. He lured me in & sent me out into the graff world to do his bidding. I’m still traumatised by this period in my life.
At this point I’d like to point out that the above paragraph is the deluded ramblings of another ‘personality’ that I possess. Sometimes I cannot control his influence & I appear to make totally unfounded accusations like the one above. I would apologize for my behaviour but seeing as it wasnt really me I dont feel responsible. I hope he understands coz I certainly fucking don’t.
When I started writing I didn’t really have influences. I discovered graffiti on my own & didn’t really understand the culture enough to be ‘influenced’ by anyone specific. From 1980 onwards I started to clock specific names written on the walls of North London. names like Rolo, Bozo, Invader & Wilko 2. Thses names & the people behind them inspired me but I wouldnt site them as ‘influences.
The next wave of names I noticed included the likes of Robbo. Poet. Dome. Amaze2. Merc, Noize & Able2. These were the names of writers that wrote along the canal near where I lived or on the surrounding streets. I particularly took notice of a battle that was going on between Poet’s mob & the NLA (North London Artists) . Again this intigued me but I can’t say that these guys were ‘actual influences’. I was looking in, from the outside on what they were doing & yearning to be part of it. Learning about the culture, in it’s entirity was influencing me & shaping my future ‘writer-ness’ but I never felt then that I was being influenced by anyone in particular.
In 1986 I met a guy that wrote Echo89, later Sky5 & then Furra (sometimes written Fura) . He was a street & bus bomber from North London that had cool handstyles, a mad selection of pens & a great outlook on the world of graff. He was definately an influence. He educated me in ‘handstyles’ & the basics of piecing. He gave me the confidence to go on train bombing missions. He taught me a respect for my craft that until then was alien to me & most of all through him I learned that nothing ‘in this game’ can be achieved without sacrifice & dedication. I’ve never forgotten that & I still believe them (sacrifice & dedication) to be the principle factors that under-pin most credible graffiti writing careers. In 1987 me & Furra started the crew WD WorlDomination. It’s a crew dedicated to a childish notion that their is no limit to what you can achieve if you never, ever, ever give up’. I guess I’m still childish coz I wake up every day & the desire ‘to be everywhere’ or to bomb everything never diminishes. Age, circumstance, realism & reason usually stop me from acting on these thoughts but that doesnt make the desire a single crumb lighter. Furra influenced me into being that person.
The next person I could probably site as an influence is Reas AOK from NYC. I met him in a London club in 1988. As a New Yorker I supposed I viewed him as ‘the real deal’ we were but plagarists I spoze. Anyway! Meeting Reas (& 3 other members of the AOK crew) was influential stuff. It made me think about the bigger world of graff & the existance of a ‘graffiti world’ beyond our insular scene, which though vibrant had started to implode on itself in a cocktail of robbery & violence. Indeed! It is true that the invitation to visit the hallowed turf of NYC (which I honoured in 1991) had turned my head & made me start to see the ‘world of graff’ in terms of the whole world, not just the micro-cosmic world of London with it’s Covent garden soap opera or weekly robbing & beatings updates courtacy of the Ladbroke Grove Gazette aka ‘the gossip & rumour-mill at the Westbourne pk bench’. Meeting Reas influenced me into wanting to be more than simply an untalented writer who was ‘up a bit’ in London’s clubland. He influenced me into ‘sprouting wings’ & getting my passport renewed . . . . . I had rubbed shoulders with royalty & I liked how it felt.
Other writers that influenced my earlier days, for different reasons were; Crash 151: ‘For the handstyles man’.
Robbo & Doze: for the honour of witnessing the legendary WRH train bombing formula Live! in all it’s glory’.
Demo: for fucking a gaff up. That guy killed Ladbroke Grove like no one’s killed a part of London before or since.
PIC: for inspiration in my attempt to go ‘all-city’ properly!
There’s probably more but these guys stand out.
I’ve been ‘touched’ & ‘influenced’ by many other people in this graff game since but your question said ‘when I started’ so I’ll stop now before this turns into a peice of written work that threatens (in length) to rival a few chapters of the Old Testament…..
‘& yay thou I walked through the valley of the shadow of graff I knew no more influences’. Drax 4.15.
Hows the scene in your city?
It’s the bollocks. We rule the world.
Er! To be honest, I’m far too old & disconected from ‘the scene’ in my city to be able to answer that question with any credibility. But Fuck it! That’s never stopped me talking unsubstantiated bollocks & self-opinionated nonsense before so I’ll give it a go. . . .
London at the moment I would say is a city who’s scene is in a period of transition. Artistically some fantastic stuff is being done each week but alas many of these writers are part of a new generation of legal-wall-writers. I’m not knocking their skills & talent (most are far better than me for sure) but there’s no dynamism to what they do. As wall writers who’ve rarely ventured beyond halls-of-fame & other legal spots their creations lack: verve, panache, grittyness & most importantly ‘movement’. Such facets are hard to falsify. So as brilliant as some of their work can be sometimes it just doesn’t have that spark. Graff should be awe inspiring, it should make blood coarse through your veins, in essence graff should ‘give you wood’. Excuse the pun but sadly a lot of the art I see on London’s legal wall-spaces these days fails to put ‘lead in my pencil’. It’s such a shame that these ‘admittedly talented’ artists could not just occassionally get their hands a liitle more dirty on the ‘illegal tip’. I’m not advocating a take over of the Jubilee line or the ‘bronxing’ of a London borough, but merely a little walk on the wild side. Then! Maybe their ‘lovely’ creations would grow some bollocks.
Alas! I’m fully aware that we have one of the World’s most heavily camera’d cities, we have an oppressive & small-minded police force & a vindictive un-caring judicial system (that ‘I’m guessing’ locks up more people for graffiti then any other place on the planet. I hear Australia’s bad too. That’ll probably be coz ‘we own the gaff’)
Aesthetically too London is a hard place to paint. It’s all glass fronted shops, easily cleaned ceramic tiling & streets with hedge-rows, fences & no accessable wall-space. This is a bitch of a city to do graff in, but for the last ‘almost 30 years’ London writers have ‘got over’. So! If now we’re in a lull then I suspect it wont be for long. There’s too many writers here with too much heart to be beaten by a few silly: Security guards, dogs, full time graff-squad officers, vindictive judges, doubled-up fences, alarmed-fences, razor wire, lazer trips, silent-alarm activated cameras, 360degrees-omni-scan cameras, hidden cameras, pressure pads, remote triggered alarm systems & other shit that you can probably read about on Wikileaks. Nah! London’s just chillin’ for now. re-assessing the situation, regrouping (mostly in the Stockwell HOF, doing incredible yet somehow soul-less masterpieces) & waiting for the next onslaught. I wish them luck & will not hesitate to cheer them on . . . From my ivory tower innit?
Continue reading after the jump!
Best city’s you have painted in and what were some of the best & worst times painting?
Fortunately I’ve never had anything worthy of the title of a bad time painting. I’ve been cold, I’ve been nicked, I’ve got injured & I’ve often not managed to finish. But looking back even those moments make good stories or are something I can laugh about. Anyway! Who want’s to hear about a shit painting sesh or some depressing shit. I won’t go there.
Re: Good times & places. I’m happy to say I’ve had plenty.
Great places? Oh! that’s gotta be Atlantic City/USA & Bradford/England . . . . .
. . . . . that is of course another total lie. 1 of these places is a total khazi that I have no interest in ever returning to. A place so shit that I didn’t even whip out a can & bother to descecrate it. The other gaff – Bradford! I’ve never even been there. I hear it’s nice.
Some great times I’ve had & some nice cities I’ve painted in? There’s a few. These stand out……
Has to be London. Coz I didnt really paint anywhere else in the 80’s.
I feel sorry for any writer that’s never had the chance to fully emmerse himself in his home town scene. Nothing beats walking ‘your own streets, staking a claim’. Nothing beats seeing your name on home soil & claiming the kind of victories that us writers claim. It’s like football or other sports – your home turf should be sacred. The happiest days of my graffiti life will always be the days when I lived only for graff. A time when paint & ink oozed from every pore. A time when I reaked of the tell tale wafts of a graffiti writer from the morning I woke until the second I fell asleep. A time when ‘nothing’ in my life did not revolve around writing. From approx 1987 to 1991 the real me simply didn’t exist. I was only a graffiti writer – not a thing more or less. Visiting NYC in 1992 & getting to paint on some subway cars calmed me down & put things in perspective. Robbo’ who I was with told me he felt the same.
But I’ll never stop yearning for those carefree days when I walked the streets of my home town, armed with the tools of our trade, soaked in it’s sins & excesses, at war with the world & fixated on my mission. My mission to bomb. A self-appointed graffiti soldier, a rebel, an outlaw, the author of a billion look-at-me-isms & dare I say ‘a wanted man’. Those times were the best times I’ve ever had, or would ever want to have as a writer. They were pure, honest & an incomparable-adrenaline-rush-extraordinaire. I wish I was still there. Infact sometimes when I close my eyes – I am.
After discovering the international ‘world of graffiti’ via those early 1990’s trips to New York I embraced a notion I call ‘Graff-Tourism’. GT is a deluded quest to bomb/paint all over the world, for no specific reason other than ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’. 20 years later I’m starting to think ‘maybe I should have just got a job & become normal’ but it’s too late now I am wot I is – a middle aged geezer who goes around writing on walls in the middle of fucking nowhere for his own entertainment & even worse, a person who stick photos of this behaviour on the internet & talks shit about it. Here are some examples of this behaviour:
In the early 90’s:
Gotta be The Dam… It sounds kinda corny but Amsterdam was like a mini-New York from 1991 to about 94. All the Metros were painted, the streets were ‘lashed’ & You could ‘bag-rack’ 30 cans in 1 hit from some of the stores. I remember 1 time me & ‘another member of WD’ walked into a store with a massive sports bag, we had hold of an arm each & were dragging it like it was really heavy even though it only had a sleeping bag in it. We found or spot, filled it with cans (maybe as many as 40) & we bowled out still dragging the ‘heavy bag’. Amazingly the security didn’t even blink. This was ‘totally normal’sh’ behaviour during this period in The Dam.
The early 90’s in Amsterdam it was like a graff playground. It was incredible. Writers like Rhyme, Tabu & Again had the streets ‘on lock’. The GVB & CBS crews were up everywhere. Talented heads like Delta, Cat22, Gasp, Oase & many others had cool pieces here, there & everywhere. Trainwise! Everything was running. Local writers like Mess, Rhyme, Bus, High & co had pieces on every train & the gaps were filled in by bombers like Beat53, Moon & Brush. Foreigners had arriveed on mass too. Cats from Germany, New York, Paris & Rotterdam had a load of stuff running & sometimes there were so many London names present you might have thought you were on the Northern line or the Big-Met. It’s a well worn out phrase but truly 1991 to 94 in Amsterdam was a ‘Golden age’. We had a fucking ball.
Also NYC…They still had the Red-bird in 92 & I’m honored to say that I stood in the footprints of those that inspired all of us. I wrote my humble irrelevance of a name on the cold steel of the MTA. I wrote graffiti where it matters more than any other place on the planet. Many of the locals will say ‘in the only place it matters on the planet’. Who am I to argue. Anyway, I made my Haj.
In the late 90’s:
I liked Sydney, Canberra & Florence (Italy) . No stresses, no strains, just hanging out with cool people, in cool places doing a little painting. ‘N’n’n’nice!’ Seth (Canberra) , Metro (Sydney) & Smart (Florence) 3 talented, yet humble fellas that I’m honored to say also put up WD.
Travelling around doing graffiti isn’t always about rocking up somewhere, belling up the local ‘top-bod’, banging out a generic ‘group-hug’ fucking effort of a wall (or train) collaboration & then sending the flix to graff mags or websites. Sometimes it’s about meeting good people that you know you will have a bond with forever. Anyone that sells himself as the ‘top-bod’ in a particular gaff is quite often a complete fucking log. Trust me! I’ve met loads of these dousche-bags. Sexy Sydney, Crazy Canberra & Funky Florence: These 3 cities were great coz I was with the ‘coolest’ people in em. Nah’m Say’n?
The Early 00’s.
Places like Johanesburg were inspiring: Doing some painting in far flung spots after a period of self-doubt & stagnation, It got the old juices flowing again & re-booted me. Joburg is one of the ‘edgy-est’ spots on the planet if doing a little painting there don’t re-boot you then give-the-fuck-up! You’re done!
One night! Me & my pal ‘Arsenal Alan’ aka ‘The Poof’ (don’t ask & No! He’s not) were driving around looking for some ‘edgy’ spots to hit (I’d talked him into letting me bomb if I put a few ‘Arsenal’ shouts up) Anyway we were near to a place called Tembisa, a fucking moody gaff to the North of Jo-borg, when I clocked a nice spot to bomb. ‘This’ll do’ I announced, to his horror. ‘We can’t get out here you loon this is fucking Tembisa township’ he shreiked. Which I explanied was the whole point. He gave in, but stood behind his car, leaning on the roof with his 9mm pistol drawn as I put up a few tags & rocked an ‘AFC Gooners on tour’. Then we fucked off as quickly as we’d arrived. I’d only bombed a shitty fence in the middle of nowhere (that no cunt will probably ever see) but my heart was pounding & I was loving it. For the previous few years my graff world had been getting less & less exciting. I hadn’t painted trains for a while & had got bored of painting hall of fame’s like Tufnell Park & Camden Town. To my horror, my biggest love in life; Graffiti writing! Was becomming stale & ‘it hurt me to say’ boring. But now on a moody back road in South Africa my heart was pumping out of my chest & I was buzzing. Sticking up a couple of tags in one of the most dangerous areas of one of the most dangerous cities on the planet whilst an armed man called ‘The Poof’ stood guard over me, it was thrilling. A normal person wouldn’t have been within a mile of this gaff. A normal person would not have friends that would entertain such stupidity. A normal person would read this shit & have me ‘sectioned’ under the mental health act. But I am not a normal person, I am a graffiti writer, I am a thrill seeker obsessed with the notion of seeing my name in places that maybe it shouldn’t be in. Bombing in Johanesburg taught me that graffiti writing doesn’t have to be done in a train yard or hanging from a rope off the top of a building to be exciting. If you want excitement just grab a few cans & go somewhere that you probably shouldn’t go to….. I never painted at Tufnell park or Camden Town again.
The late 00’s:
Steamy spots like Bangkok, Saigon & Phnom Pehn: Tropical, exotic & exciting cities. Sweaty, humid cities. Vibrant cities. Cities ‘on the edge’.
Manila& Sao Paolo:
Cities not so much ‘on the edge’ but more ‘falling off the fucking edge’. Dangerous & consequently exciting. I’ve always wanted to do graff in an actual warzone. Kitting-up to go out bombing in these places is exhilirating & the nearest I’ve gotten to ‘warzone-graff-action’. Dodging the assorted riff-raff at night whilst dipping in & out of the shadows. Hooded up, on the march, suspiciously standing around in doorways & alcoves. Out ‘weird-ing’ the weirdos & getting your name up in spots where sensible people would never tread. Respectfully yet perversely stepping over the rags & boxes that masquerade as a human-beings only worldly possessions simply to write your name on a wall, for no apparent reason other than a burning desire to walk past the next day & look at the scene that you ‘helped to create’. This shit exhillarates me & at these moments ‘I know I’ll write forever.’
Helsinki: This trip was special because it was the fullfillment of a promise ‘to visit’ that I had made 19 years earlier when I met some of the elite of Helsinki’s writing community at a hip-hop/graff jam in Uppsala/Sweden. An event that I hitch hiked & jibbed trains alone from Amsterdam to Stockholm (& half-way back) in the freezing cold to get to. I won’t bore you with the whole trip coz it was truly an epic that I could write a small book about. But a few highlights (more aptly low-lights) were: After getting nicked in Enschede/Holland (don’t ask) the Dutch Old Bill gave me a lift (don’t ask) to the border, where I hitched a lift to Hanover in a truck that was full of fertilizer. Yes! I smelt like a pig-farmer when I got out.
On the return Stockholm to Malmo leg, I hitch hiked in a snow storm. It took me approximatley 10 rides to do the journey. The most interesting was with a family of refugees who claimed to be Egyptian but then later told me they were from Iraq. Kind people that though they looked like they didn’t have a pot to piss in, still had the hospitalty & generosity to feed & warm me up with some soup, the likes of which I’ve never tasted before or since.
Then in Copenhagen I was so exhausted, cold & hungry that I risked getting nicked by attempting to use the shittest snide 50 pound note that I’ve ever seen in my life. I ordered some food in McDonalds & when they put it on the counter I steamed into the chips as the manager scrutanized my bedraggled note. ‘At least I’d have had a portion of chips when they nicked me’ that was my state of mind at that moment. But! Fuck knows how, they accepted it & gave me 45 quid worth of change too. Touch! After scoffing down my meal & saying a prayer to Saint Ron, the patron saint of free grub & shit snide money acceptance I bought a train ticket to Amsterdam.
Fortunately my re-aquaintance with the Finnish lads on their home turf was via a business class flight on British Airways. A far cry from rocking up in a truck full of shit. We stayed in a nice hotel by the port. In 1992 I had slept on writer’s floors, a park bench & between bikes in the cycle-carriage of a passenger train. Whilst in Helsinki I found myself on the election trail with one of the local writers who is now an MP & the current Finnish ‘Sports & Culture minister’. Some of the people, from various places that I met on the trip in 92 are now dead, others are in prison or ravaged by the excesses of urban living. In Sweden I didn’t do a lot of painting, I only managed a silver DX dub under a bridge next to some tracks near Stockholm. But in Helsinki in 2011 I had a bucket-load of 94’s layed on for me by some friends & we painted at the city’s ‘main spot’, a huge wall organized & legalized by the afforementioned politician chap. Seeing my Finnish pals & finally full-filling the promise ‘to visit’ that I’d made ‘almost’ 20 years earlier was fantastic. Painting a few collaborations with my good friend & fellow crew member Egs WD CDC was special too. Helsinki was so good that I didn’t even bother to check if the McDonalds’ accepted English pounds.
Zagreb/Croatia: It was -10 fucking degrees & I was wearing what seemed like 25 layers of clothes most of the time but Zagreb was great . . . Big up! to Steam aka Frank Malt the head honcho of the Aerosolplanet.com website, aka Photo Frank the legendary graff chronically that’s been covering this shit for nearly 30 years. Shout out to Dane, Obeliks, Zipoe & all the chaps from what is truly a really cool scene…. Hvala! I shall return.
Favourite five writers?
I don’t have ‘favourite writers’. Some of the best graffiti artists in the world, who’s work I consider to be amazing are ‘as human beings’ total wankers that I don’t have 1 single crumb of respect for. Some of the best graffiti people I know are human beings that I consider utterly amazing people & whom I love ‘to the grave’ but as writers they are fucking toys that should never give up their day jobs. So I’m sorry, no Favourite 5.. But what I’ll do instead is name 10 writers I respect for different reasons. 10 writers (with a heavy bias towards my fellow crew members) that don’t get smoke blown up their arse on a daily basis & 10 writers who deserve more coverage than they get ‘or probably want’. . . . .
Arek. (USA) : Baltimore’s finest. Heaps of freights & nice walls too. An active guy from a city it’s fucking hard to be active in.
Gueto (Brazil) : Sao Paolo is a city drenched in graffiti: Street art, throw-ups, pieces, tags, that pixacao stuff, all manor of fantastic art & ferocious vandalism. To stand out in SP you gotta do some really nice stuff a do a fucking lot of it – Gueto stands out.
Obeliks (Croatia) : This fella’s painted steel fucking everwhere. I won’t reel off the other names he uses but ask around & check him out. He’s probably got stuff running in your city.
Rhyme GVB WD. (NL) : A King of street bombing many times over & he’s still out there, ’25 years into the game’. Put simply: An Amsterdam legend.
Rush WD. (Thailand): Originally a son of Melbourne/Auz, Big Poppa Rush these days puts in a relentless shift on the sweat drenched streets of Bangkok. Nice styles with funky fills, Rush is a writer’s writer.
Seth One KOA WD (Australia) : 25 years of funk coming at ya straight outta Swampsville/Australia. Canberra’s finest. This boys been banging out burners & some of the freshest characters that’re out there since day 1. Go check him out if you dare & mind you don’t end up as scorpion food.
Smart RIS AOK WD (Italy) : I met Smart in Florence in 1997 when he wrote Dork. That’s his hometown & he was just a kid that put in work on the local train scene. Now he rolls with some of the finest writer’s ever to come out of New York City & has a style deserving of the crew names: Rocking It Suckers & All Out Kings.
Smok/Smoke (Mexico): Hermano Smoke del Iztacalco Cartel/Mexico city. Crazy nice work from one of the craziest spots on the planet. You won’t find Brother Smoke posting flix & talking shit on the internet (like I do) he just pumps the work out. Loads of it.
Soviet. (USA) : Pittsburg’s Most Wanted & a name known on the streets of many an East Coast city.
Spot YKK (USA) : If your stuff’s nice enough to stand out from the crowd in New York city then your stuff’s ‘fucking nice enough’. Spot’s been banging out some of the nicest work in NYC for a few years now. Take note!
What pushes you to carry on?
Most probably egotism & a lack of any other viable social life?
Any plans for the future?
Steel or Walls?
Walls – Particularly when I’m using emulsions, wheatpastes & stencils.
The above statement is totally true but in the name of credibility & ‘being gangster’ I shall now do a massive ‘hardcore-writer’ rant.
‘I am a 100% dedicated Metal-head. Painting trains is the essence of writing. The difference between painting a wall or painting a train is like: Driving a top range sports car or simply sitting in one that’s plotted up in a show room. There is no comparison.’
Booze or Drugs?
It used to be booze but since my conversion to the strict doctrine of Wahhabist Islam it’s…. Stop stop stop! That’s enough of that. Sorry to anyone I’ve offended, please don’t report me to any truth & reconcilliation commisions & please don’t blame me from any ensewing social unrest on the streets of Luton… I apologize.
It used to be booze but now it’s Green tea! . . .Preferably with the most exquisite of young ladies from Shanghai to pore it for me.. Ahhhh! Bliss.
I wouldn’t normally answer this question as it has nothing to do with graffiti writing . . . . But! Seeing as I have started to be recognized in the street by men wearing tight jeans & trilby hats riding garishly coloured fixed-wheel bikes…. & seeing as my shows are selling out & my screen prints are flying off shelves… & seeing as I am feeling particularly self-important & up-myself at this particular moment… & seeing as I have appointed myself the current ‘darling of the art world’ who’s time, it is fair to say ‘is now!’ It would be rude of Drax not to honour you with a peak into the weird & wonderful world of his private musical tastes – Consider yourself honoured.
. . . . I quite enjoy smoking PCP & listening to bands like Celtic frost, Slayer & Bio Hazard.
You know that would have been such ‘a rad answer’ if it were remotely true. But PCP? Fuck off! I have no desire to attempt to chew my own nipples off whilst gouging my eyes out with a broken beer bottle – But the bands are cool.
I also like..
Hip-Hop: Well the truth is I got a love/hate relationship with Hip hop. Sometimes I listen to nothing else. Sometimes I’m like ‘Arrrgh! turn that shit off’. But at the moment I love Underground shit: Guys like Thirstin Howl, Steven King, Spit Gemz, Ill Bill, Papoose & Shaz Ill York. Many of these guys are down with graff, at least 1 is a Brooklyn street bombing legend. Underground Brooklyn rap! I love dat shit.
Drum n Bass: Specifically anything on the Metal Headz label & selected stuff by Dillinger, Ed Rush, Doc Scott, Optical & a little old skool Rebel MC/DJ Ron/MC Five-O flava.
Reggae: Sizzla is God.
Salsa Duro: (Hard Salsa) Fania Allstars, Fruko y sus tesos, Richie Ray, Latin Brothers etc etc. I love that stuff.
Bachata: Lovey, ballad-ish, Dominican stuff with twangy guitars. Actually I don’t really like it that much, I’ts Ok but I’m primarly using it as an introductary mechanism to get up-close with Dominican chics. Shhhh! Nah’m Say’n?.
Vallenato: Music from Colombia usually accompanied by accordians. More gangster than any Hip-Hop. Pablo Escobar never listened to hip-hop. The Medellin cartel didn’t rap: They listened to Binomio de Oro, Rafael Orozco, Alejandro Duran & Diomades Diaz.
I don’t do shout outs . . Get a pen, find a wall & do your own fucking shout out.
But I never forget to mention my fallen brethren.
R.I.P Mint PFB. QPR (Shepherds Bush)
R.I.P Nipsta KOA. WD. (Sydney)
R.I.P Screwz: KOA. WD. PFB. (Sydney)
R.I.P High: CBS. AFCA. WD (Amsterdam)
R.I.P Para: CBS. AFCA (Amsterdam)
R.I.P Saga: NLZ (Camden Town)
R.I.P Dr Seus: NYC
R.I.P Tron: KOA. WD. PFB (Canberra & London)
R.I.P Mane: TU (Kilburn & Lagos)
Get well soon: King Robbo WD. PFB. WRH.
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