John Eden: BM Box 3641, London, WC1N 3XX, England UK
Archive for the ‘woofah’ Category.
Woofah editor Droid's bathroom cabinet, yesterday.
Martin spills the beans on the delayed printing of the world’s best reggae / grime / dubstep magazine.
Which is still available direct from http://www.woofahmag.com and from all good stockists.
Half of the print run has gone out to shops and punters in the fortnight since it was published, so don’t hang about…
I’ve not had a chance to write about the Red Bull Music Academy events, or their daily newspaper which is an omission on my part.
I was too knackered to make the now legendary 4 way soundclash between DMZ, Trojan, Soul To Soul and Metalheadz at the Roundhouse last week, but is sounded wicked. Check Laurent’s write up and the only-to-be-expected disagreements in the comments.
You can listen to the four rounds of the clash here (no downloads tho).
The most recent Daily Note includes a nice piece on fanzines which mentions Woofah and says it has: “consistently proved that informed, considered and informative journalism continues to exist outside the internet and mainstream monthly music titles”
Which is the sort of thing which makes it all worthwhile! One for the Woofah Love page I think!
Previous issues of the Daily Note have included a two part piece by Melissa Bradshaw on the history of UK Soundsystem, Dan Hancox on the cops and grime, a cool Weatherall interview and a series of pieces on different areas of London, including Hackney. It’s all available for download as pdfs on the RBMA site.
Our fearsome Security Kitty patrols Woofah HQ
I’ve been neglecting the blog recently, but updates have been appearing regularly in the sidebar cos of my new twitter feed. Apologies to all the people who’ve left comments here, especially NagHammadiEye, for my lack of responses…
My suspicion is that short updates and links will appear there from now on and bigger pieces will be blogged. I have mixed feelings about this but it seems like the easiest option with not much time available…
So the new issue of Woofah is being warmly received. All contributor copies have been mailed out now and tonight I will tackle the backlog of orders. London shops will get copies after work tomorrow.
As many of you will know, Woofah was conceived on the dancefloor of BASH – the reggae/grime/dubstep club run by The Bug and Loefah at Plastic People. Plastic People is an awesome venue probably best known for its regular FWD nights – FWD is to dubstep what Metalheadz at the Blue Note was to drum ‘n’ bass I suppose.
Plastic People’s soundsystem and its selection of promotions has made it legendary. I first went there for some nights run by the Manasseh crew which included Sugar Minott and the late Junior Delgado toasting over records selected by folks like Dave Hendley and Manasseh themselves. It was an incredible experience being literally feet away from some reggae legends with the full weight of PP’s soundsystem.
More news on that soon (and the campaign to keep it open), but it should go without saying that I would be gutted if it closed.
As History Is Made At Night has pointed out, this has to be seen in the context of the wider gentrification of the south of Hackney – the City moving slowly north.
I can barely believe I’m saying it but the new issue is here and ready to get out to you all!
Believe me it’s worth the wait – up to a massive 92 pages this time and some incredible content that I am completely amazed we managed to secure. And it’s still the same price!
In the shops next week, but you can order direct NOW:
(copies to contributors and allies will be mailed out early next week, or can be got from me in person)
Woofah issue 4 just landed at Chateau Droid. The shipment will now cross the Irish sea and reach London early next week.
Hit the link for more info or stay tuned to this channel…
I’m excited – you should be too!
Yay! Paul’s back on it…
Fanzines – The scene that smells of zine spirit – Features, Music – The Independent.
Mark Perry and me – interviewed in the Indie today!
Grievous Angel exclusive promo mix for Twilight Soundsystem.
Paul Meme performs his own mix and blend dubwise alchemy on Ryan Moore’s outstanding back-catalogue.
Features talents like Big Youth, Ranking Joe, Mykal Rose and Luciano.
Do yourself a favour and grab this now.
Then check Woofah issue 3 for a great interview with Ryan by me and Paul STN.
And also head over to twilightcircus.com for more info on Ryan’s back catalogue including the excellent Vocal Anthology and Michael Rose albums alongside dubs both seismic and atmospheric.
Support independent music producers, innit.
I was pretty excited about visiting Croydon last week for the private view of Georgina Cook’s degree show.
As many of you will know I’ve been a great admirer of her photos for many years and was thrilled when she agreed to let us use her images for the first two issues of Woofah (including the front covers).
Recently G’s work has veered away from documenting club culture and concentrated more on abstract images – a display of her psychogeographical love affair with South London.
Indeed her degree show marks a surprising acceleration into an entirely new, more conceptual, area. “Lost In The Cracks” raises many questions regarding place and surveillance society in the early 21st Century. It is apt that the playfully Kafka-esque installation took place in Croydon, which as well as being the birthplace of dubstep (via the Big Apple record shop) was also where Jamie Reid and the Suburban Press collective vigorously attacked the very nature of post-war “new towns” as sites of grim alienation rather than suburban paradises.
Cook’s installation covers a wide area and I was impressed by the dispersed nature of the work. For example I was greeted at East Croydon station by a friendly bureaucrat who informed me that, despite Croydon technically being in Zone 5 of London’s travelcard system, my Oystercard was not valid there and that I would have to pay a twenty quid penalty fare.
Obviously this raises many questions about what (and where) London actually is, as a “place”. The London of our imaginations is many things, far beyond the representation of the railway map or travelcard zones.
So, as Iain Sinclair has pointed out recently, Stoke Newington has an entirely different character to the rest of the London Borough of Hackney. Similarly Croydon exists in some kind of hinterland, both in London and Surrey, but not really characteristic of either. Whilst dubstep is seen by many as originating in London, it is also suburban in character (cf. comments by Simon Reynolds about dubstep precursors ‘ardkore and Jungle having key participants based in the home counties – most relevantly Essex’s Suburban Base label and shop).
Cook’s secondary point is that the very nature of “place” is formed by social processes. These processes include state and corporate interventions both at “national” and “local” levels. East Croydon station is one of the busiest outside of Zone 1, so perhaps the town itself will be forever associated with the railway and its operating company, Southern.
But Cook also reminds us that these interpretations are always subject to negotiation. The smiling bureaucrat was only too eager to inform me that there was a chance that my twenty quid penalty fare would be refunded to me if I appealed. The message I took away from this is that we must resist the imposition of bureaucratic “place” and formulate our own relationships with Croydon, by wandering about ourselves. This is reminiscent of the work done by the Equi Phallic Alliance to undermine notions of “Wessex” generated by reactionary poets.
Indeed, the latter part of Cook’s installation is composed of a semi-guided derive of the area around the station. My invite directed me to College Road, but on entering the college building there I was informed by a second bureaucrat that I was in the wrong place and needed to head to the H.E. College instead. I continued to wander, enjoying the sunshine, ruminating on the role of educational establishments in confining thought. The almost deserted H.E. College provided even less answers. I drifted happily through its corridors, viewing some of the more conventional work by other students.
There was no trace of Georgina Cook, her invisibility only serving to highlight her presence.
