Did you know I’ve written a hundred of these fucking things? Well, because of that, welcome to my first non-album review! 

Wait, what? 

Some people have asked me where I find my tunes. The answer is a fucking mix bag, but I’m more than happy to give away one of my secrets every once in a while. The process of digging deep into the universe inside the black hole inside another universe with music and pulling out some good shit is tough. Music lovers and seekers will understand what I mean by the YouTube rabbit hole, or better known as getting YouTubed or YouTube holed as in, “Cock gobbler of cobblers, I got youtube-holed hard and went to bed at 4 am”. Shit, of course you know what this shit is, everyone does. It’s a modern day epi-fucking-demic. And, of course you know about the deep existential depression that comes after hours of clicking link after fucking link, or worse, just letting that autoplay take you down a river of pure shit. “What the fuck am I doing with my life?” you’ll ask eventually, “well, at least I found some good tunes.” No, you really didn’t. You found jack shit. The YouTube hole works like snake venom. It injects its poison into you and numbs the body as well as the ears. The next day, or week, you’ll go listen to what you thought was great at the time and hate yourself for it. Sure, you might find a band here or a song there, but it’s hardly worth the time it takes. 

How about algorithmic-based music? Sexy, huh? Computer-controlled listening behaviour. “If subject 1 enjoys music ‘A’, then they will also enjoy music ’A.1’, ’A.2’, and ’A.3’. This shit has its benefits. But it’s also about as challenging as vanilla yogurt. Instead of getting a bunch of colours, you’ll end up with a large variety of white: Ivory, Snow, White smoke. How about some fucking Floral White? Or goddamn Seashell. Can’t forget the life-altering miracle of Cornsilk, the bravery of Old lace, or fucking Milk! What ever happened to listening to something that freaked you out a little, something a little outside, or off-coloured (get what I did there? That’s a triple whammy.), or way the fuck out of your comfort zone? For me, it’s where most of my favourite music has come from. Bad things happen when all you see is white; not only do you never get to experience colour, you’ll eventually end up comfortably colour-blind, unchallenged and unaccepting of anything new despite how beautiful it may be. Ya, fuck that shit.  

Check it: Back in 2001, an EMI writer named A.W. Wilde started a basic concept. Get some wicked awesome artists to make up their own mixes. Sounds good, doesn’t it? I’m not saying this is the only way to find good tunes, but it’s a solid move. Not only do you get to discover a large collection of new artists by looking up the artists these motherfuckers add to their mixes, but the mixes themselves are on fucking point. Being asked to make a ‘Late Night Tales’ mix is a huge honour. Fuck the Grammys, this shit is legit as fuck. Some that have taken on the mantle of master mixer are: Nils Frahm, BADBADNOTGOOD, Olafur Arnalds, Bonobo, Air, Four Tet, The Arctic Monkeys, The Flaming Lips, and a fuckton more. You can safely throw on a mix one night and be confident. It’s like listening to the playlist of a great fucking artist. How did FatBoy Slim become Fatboy Slim? Well, just listen to his fucking mix and you’ll have a much better idea. There’s a large collection of these motherfuckers, so you’d better get a move on. And as always, keep listening, you marvellously motivated merrymaking motherfuckers.