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Jakarta City Sounds

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  • Jakarta City Sounds

    Indonesia is the most unlikely of countries.

    An archipelago of 17,000 islands – 6,000 of them inhabited – stretching for over 6000 miles, from Aceh in Sumatra to the border with Papua New Guinea, it straddles the equator and is home to hundreds of different ethnic groups and literally thousands of different languages.

    Despite the rapid modernisation and globalisation over recent decades, traditional culture remains strong and regional identities are fiercely protected and preserved.
    Local foods and ways of cooking, local dialects and languages, local cloth, local music and musical instruments, all are part of the very fabric of being.

    The dominant culture is that of Java, the island that provides getting on for half of the nation's 230 million people, and that has historically been the heart of the nation and the seat of power.

    And located on the low-lying north-east coast is one of the true monster cities of the world – Jakarta.

    The Mass Mess.
    The Big Durian.
    Maximum City.

    Greater Jakarta is believed to be home to somewhere between twenty and twenty-five million people, the majority living in fairly abject poverty, with over 60% of city dwellers employed in what's euphemisitically referred to as 'the informal sector'.

    The city is currently being so stretched beyond its means, so choked with traffic, so burdened down with the continuous influx of migrants seeking a better life, so unable to provide even the basics of electricity, sewage disposal, healthcare and so on that there is now serious talk afoot about moving the capital elsewhere in a desperate bid to alleviate some of the pressures on the city.

    As some of you may know, I spent the first two years of my proper working life in Jakarta, teaching English, and during this time I met my future wife.
    We go back to visit friends and family as and when we can and the city has become a kind of second home to me.
    Despite all its blatantly obvious failings, it remains a remarkable place: incredible food, wonderful people, remarkable sights, insane nightlife.

    And music.
    Music is everywhere in Indonesia.

    For a country so poor, music provides much light relief and if you're walking or driving through the country, you frequently stumble upon little sound systems set up in some slum area or at a crossroads or under a bridge, usually blasting out the ever-popular dangdut to a gathering crowd.

    Other popular music forms include the moire religiously-oriented Qasidihan (not that you'd know it from the youtube clip a second ago, but Indonesia is the world's biggest Muslim country – and perhaps the world's most tolerant Muslim country too). That said, Islam is an important, integral part of everyday life for many, many people. Qasidihan has many melodic similarities with dandgdut, but lacks its sexuality and grind, being much more rooted in moral fables, Koranic tales and so on. The singers tend to be somewhat more demure too, as you'll see.

    Gamelan has traditionally been central to the culture, as it often forms an integral part of the wayang puppet versions of stories from the Ramayana (which, of course, Monkey is also derived from!) that most Indonesian kids grow up knowing in some shape or form. One of the peculiarities of the country is that underneath the surface veneer of Islam lies a whole host of other influences. Java and Sumatra were both Buddhist and then Hindhu before they were Muslim – as the ancient temples of Borobodur and Prambanam are testament to.

    As the two main islands succumbed to Islam, brought from the west via the Indian trade routes, the hardcore of Hindhus moved eastwards, and now occupy the island of Bali and remote volcanic parts to the east of Java, around Mount Bromo and the Tengger region.

    Anyway, gamelan divides broadly into three main sub-divisions: the stately, slow, ponderous central Javanese style; the intense, frenetic Balinese style and - my personal favourite - the slow, languid, mellifluous Sundanese style from West Java.

    Another very popular style is angklung, which I've always seen as testament to people's innate resourcefulness.
    Angklung orchestras are very popular in schools and are essentially a kind of cheap, home-made bamboo-pipe version of gamelan.

    One final local style worthy of mention here is Kroncong. Kroncong is both a style of music and also a small kind of ukulele brought to the country by the Portuguese in the sixteenth century – and many claim there are stylistic similarities with fado to boot! The music usually utilizes a kroncong, a flute, and a female singer – along with synths, etc.

    During the 1960s, Pop Keroncong emerged in an attempt to modernize the genre by adding electric guitars, keyboards and drums - and several of the acts we will encounter have their roots in this style.

    I could go on and delve into all manner of other localised forms, but of course, that's not why we're here, is it.
    What about the fuzz, I hear you ask?
    Where's the beat and garage?
    Was there ever any Indo prog?

    Hang tight there, kids and all will be revealed!

    The fact that any music whatsoever of interest to VG plussers emerged from Indonesia in the 60s and 70s is incredible, when you look at the country's history – and the fact that it has survived intact is also fairly incredible. The 35 degree year round heat, coupled with 90% humidity, does bad things to records. Mould grows quickly, plastic inner sleeves melt onto the vinyl, sleeves crumble and collapse. Added to this is the fact that few people in the first place can have had time, cash or inclination to invest in such luxuries as records – and of those who did, the desire to preserve them for posterity cannot have been foremost in their mind.

    Despite all this, amazing records WERE made and have survived the ravages of the years. Thus far, the Indonesian scene has been all-but ignored and remains largely undocumented away from a slew of websites mainly in the local language, though it seems that all this is soon about to change.

    What will follow here is an overview of the results of my digs round the country and an attempt to share the word on some of the best Indo sides.

    It's also testament to the many happy hours I've spent in places like the little shack below, smoking my beloved kretek, trying to get my Indonesian up to scratch, getting covered in absolute shite and needle-dropping hundreds and hundreds of absolutely battered old records in search of that magic touch.

    While London was busy swinging and Britain was going through the social and sexual revolution of the mid-1960s, Indonesia was going into meltdown, victim of its own post-colonial schisms and the creeping encroachment of the Cold War. The first president after the hard-won independence from Dutch rule was Sukarno - still referred to locally by some as Bung Karno (Older Brother Karno). On coming to power, Sukarno rejected western-style democracy, claiming instead a system of "guided democracy" – based on what he called traditional Indonesian principles – was more suitable.

    As the 40s moved into the 50s, he strengthened ties with the People's Republic of China and invited more Communists to enter his government. He also began to accept increasing amounts of Soviet bloc military aid. This aid, however, was surpassed by military aid from the Eisenhower Administration, which worried about a leftward drift should Sukarno rely too much on the Sov Bloc. The country was becoming one of the epicentres of the Cold War.

    Sukarno was acutely aware of this and tried to forge new alliances. The Bandung Conference, held in 1955, aimed to unite developing Asian and African countries into a non-aligned movement to counter the competing superpowers at the time. In order to increase Indonesia's prestige, Sukarno supported and won the bid for the 1962 Asian Games held in Jakarta. This led to a period of demented investment in 'national symbols' such as the delights shown below:

    Monas - known locally as Sukarno's last erection:

    Another gem, known as The 7-Up Man:

    and then of course there's Burning Pizza Man:

    There was also considerable political tension when the Indonesians refused the entry of delegations from Israel and Taiwan.

    Sukarno also survived a couple of assassinations attempts – by CIA-backed rebel forces – and slowly increased his stranglehold on power. He established government control over media and book publishing and also started sending his opponents to internal exile.

    By the early 60s, his brand of fiery nationalism had led to war with the emerging British-supported Federation of Malaysia, which he claimed was a neo-colonial plot to advance British interests in the region. Sukarno later withdrew Indonesia from the UN when, with US backing, Malaysia took a seat of the Security Council.

    Internal political conflict worsened and the economy deteriorated. By the mid-1960s, annual inflation ran between 500–1000%, export revenues were shrinking, the infrastructure inherited from the Dutch was crumbling, and severe poverty and hunger were widespread.

    At the same time, Sukarno was becoming increasingly ill.
    He collapsed in public in August 9, 1965, and was secretly diagnosed with kidney disease.
    The stage was set for a coup.

    Sukarno's power had come to depend on balancing the increasingly hostile forces of the army on the one hand and the Communist Party of Indonesia (the PKI) on the other. By 1965, at the height of the Cold War, the PKI had penetrated all levels of government. With Sukarno's support, the party had gained increasing influence at the expense of the army, thus ensuring the army's enmity. By late 1965, the army was divided between a left-wing faction allied with the PKI, and a right-wing faction that was being courted by the United States.

    On the night of September the 30th, 1965, six of the military's most senior officers were executed in an attempted coup by a group of insurgents within the armed forces. Within a few hours, Major General Suharto had mobilized the forces under his command and taken control of Jakarta. Anti-communists, following Suharto's lead, then went on a violent purge, killing an estimated half million people and destroying the PKI, which was officially blamed for the crisis.

    Around 10% of the Indonesian population are ethnic Chinese and under the Dutch, they were actively courted and encouraged – in order to act as a kind of buffer zone (a role Suharto also allowed them to play). With their trade ties to other Chinese communities across Asia, they quickly came to control a disproportionate chunk of the economy, but were denied access to political or military power. Local resentment of their economically privileged position spilled over into mob violence and anti-Chinese pogroms.

    My wife's family are Chinese Indonesian and those family members who lived through these dark days are understandably as reluctant to discuss them as most old soldiers who lived saw active service in WWII are.

    After a very turbulent fifteen months - the period captured in true Hollywood style in The Year of Living Dangerously - Suharto was declared President early in 1967 and immediately set about strengthening his power base.

    He remained in power for the next 32 years, during which time he and his family embezzled untold millions of dollars from the Indonesian people; ruthlessly suppressed opposition – killing countless political prisoners, trade unionists and human and women's rights activists in the process, and annexed West Irian (now known as irian Jaya) and East Timor, waging endless wars against local guerrilla groups none too pleased to find themselves under the control of Java and killing literally hundreds of thousands in the process – all, of course, done with the covert support and finances of both the UK and the US.

    A bastard he clearly was, but he was also - as the old adage puts it - OUR bastard.

    Sukarno was shuffled off to a kind of semi-house arrest and died in 1970.

    Suharto, meanwhile, clung desperately to power until he was finally unseated by a popular uprising in 1998.

    In the years that followed, Indonesia defied all the odds and (East Timor apart) maintained its geographical integrity through a series of remarkable diplomatic moves; moved to being a fully-functioning democracy and resisted moves to revert to old-style autocracy in order to tackle the internal fundamentalist threat that gave rise to such atrocities as the 2002 Bali bombing, opting instead to simply treat terrorists as criminals and to do their utmost to dismantle the criminal networks.

    Indonesia today may still be a mess, but it's a mess with much to be proud of.
    Demonstrations are commonplace, political debate is healthy and the media is strong and vocal.

    Suharto died in January 2008 in his house outside the capital. That day, there was an explosion of relief and joy - and the kind of public celebrations in the streets of the city that would've erupted spontaneously here had That Bloody Women kicked the bucket in, say, 1987.

    Given all of this turbulence and killing and poverty and uncertainty, it should come as no surprise to learn that the vast majority of Indonesian music is saccharine, bland, inoffensive, sickly and generally pretty unpalatable. Love songs of the kind popularised in the more innocent 50s by asexual US teen hunks such as Fabian prevail and most people look to music as a source of simple, happy escapism (though there is actually a thriving death metal scene, frequently made by angry young Muslim kids, and generally most popular in the seething slums . . . as well as some fairly harsh hip-hop that stands head and shoulders above the general generic pop pap). There's clearly nothing wrong with this, and were I in their shoes, I suspect I'd feel the same way.

    Even worthwhile Indonesian records invariably feature a fairly high percentage of shitters.

    To me, this makes the thrill of finding a burst of fuzz or an unusual psychedelic ambience hidden away within the grooves of an otherwise absolutely bog standard disc all the more exciting, though it does also make me marvel at the prices some of these records seem to achieve, given that they are often the living embodiment of the one-tracker.

    One final word before we get to where the action is.

    Indonesian 60s and 70s sounds are what they are.
    They are not as good as the 13th Floor Elevators and they do not rival The Tickle 45 in my affections.
    They are, however, worth hearing and worth saving from the obscurity they currently languish in.

    It is possible that my closeness to the terrain has distorted my perception of the relative merit of many of these sounds.

    My wife - a woman for whom a Beaver mix is iPod joy - cannot bear most of them and I do sometimes fear I cherish them simply because I know how hard they were to turn up and how unlikely their existence is given the historical context.

    I also recognise that they are close to my heart as they tie up different strands of my life - teenage garage band obsessive turned peripatetic English teacher and cultural archaeologist.

    Whether they merit the verbal overflow I've subjected them (and, of course, you!) to - and whether they merit your attention - I leave to you, dear listener, to decide.

    Track One
    Little of the above will prepare you for the sheer spasmic aural delight that is Crazy Joe by AKA!! Kicking off like a slow and ominous prog epic, twenty seconds in it suddenly kicks into an absolutely devastating stoned psychedelic funk jam and never really lets up from thereon in. The singer does actually sound possibly crazy, the bass player has got it really bad and the sneering psychotic laughter over the breakdown from two minutes in is pure Jason Pew Mosso.

    This is the title track of this record - their third LP from '72.
    Rumour has it that it was released as a 45 in Australia, where it even reached the charts.

    AKA (pronounced a - as in cat - ka - as in car) were from Surabaya, the biggest city in east Java. Apparently they were named after the drugstore the main man Ucok Harahap's father was running - Apotek Kali Asin. The band's live show was very much of its time. Ucok would hurl himself against the walls and boune off the speakers. before appearing to be whipped by a hangman. His legs would then be tied and he'd be 'hung before finally being stabbed and placed in a coffin and carried of stage.

    James Brown eat your heart out.

    Sadly, Harahap passed away early in December last year, a loss much mourned by older Indonesian rockers. He clearly had an eventful life as he left behind him eight wives, eight children and fourteen grandchildren!!

    We shall return to the searing genius of AKA later on, but in the meantime, if Finder's Keepers are in need of inspiration regarding future releases, a compilation of their most killer sides seems long overdue to my damaged mind.

    Track Two
    Next, we come to an LP that I finally managed to track down during my Christmas holidays - Koes Bersaudara.

    The story behind the genesis and creation of this record tells you all there is to know about what it meant to be in rock'n'roll band in the wrong part of the world in the mid-60s and puts such British bad boys as The Stones and The Pretties in the shade. The tale has been told better than I could ever manage it by Steve Farram over at, so I'll take the liberty of borrowing his account for my purposes here.

    Koes Bersaudara (the Koes Brothers), first formed in Jakarta in 1960, consisted of five brothers, Koesdjono (Jon), Koestono (Tonny), Koesnomo (Nomo), Koesyono (Yon) and Koesroyo (Yok). Jon left after the band’s first album, released in 1961 or 1962. That record was made under rather primitive conditions as the studio was so close to the railway lines that the band had to stop recording whenever a train went by.

    The band’s early music was influenced by other musical brothers such as the Kalin Twins and the Everly Brothers, but by 1965 they were caught up in the prevailing Beatlemania and began adding Beatles songs to their repertoire. This might have seemed a wise move commercially, but it was not a sound choice politically. Indonesia’s President Sukarno had condemned rock and roll as a symptom of Western decadence and tried to have it banned. He had previously railed against Elvis Presley, but by 1965 he had his sights fixed on the Beatles and all Indonesian bands that played ‘Beatles-like’ music. Koes Bersaudara was one of the most popular bands in Indonesia, but their records were banned from radio and they found it difficult to find venues to play.

    One of Sukarno’s main allies in his war against rock and roll was the Indonesian Communist Party. On 14 March 1965 the caricature of Koes Bersaudara below appeared in the Party’s newspaper, Harian Rakyat (Peoples Daily), accompanying an article complaining that Koes Bersaudara had landed a gig playing in the restaurant at Jakarta airport. Harian Rakyat thought that this gave a bad impression to foreign visitors.

    In June 1965, the band got a job playing at a house party, but had only got through a few bars of I Saw Her Standing There, when rocks were heard being thrown on the roof. An angry mob outside the house demanded that Koes Bersaudara apologise for playing forbidden music. Tonny was able to calm down the mob and the brothers returned home, but the next day they were called into the Chief Prosecutors Office and after several hours interrogation they were placed in gaol. The brothers were not sentenced in any court and had no access to legal representation.

    The brothers stayed in jail for three months with almost no contact from the outside, then one night, without warning, they were released. Koes Bersaudara were released just a day before the whole of Indonesia was thrown into great turmoil. On the night of 30 September six army generals were kidnapped and murdered. The army, led by General Suharto, claimed that this had been part of planned coup and assumed power to restore order.

    Suharto’s regime reversed many of Sukarno’s policies and rock and roll could once again be played on radio and in live venues. Koes Bersaudara’s first record made after their stint in jail was this LP, To The So Called The Guilties. Released in 1967, it contains a number of songs about their experience, such as the title track, Di Dalam Bui (In Jail), Voorman (Jailer) and Poor Clown, which is generally believed to be about President Sukarno. Even though Poor Clown is sung in English, the lyrics are spat out with such venom that it is hard to decipher what is actually being said.

    Koes Bersaudara became Koes Plus in 1969 following the departure of Nomo and went on to be one of the most popular Indonesian bands of the 1970s, making countless LPs, none of which seem to contain anything else of note, to my ears at least.

    Gradually the brothers dropped out of the music industry, but Yon was still performing using the name Koes Plus into the 2000s!!

    The first track up here is the aforemonetioned Poor Clown (Koes Bersaudara).
    One minute forty-five seconds of primal R'n'B sung in an English so twisted and spat out that the lyrics are utterly mangled.
    One online stab at them has them coming out as something like this:

    Oh my poor clown
    Poor clown poor clown
    You are too shamed to show your face
    *You may not ------------
    *With all your knowledge then you die
    Oh my, oh my
    Before your mind has glued you down
    For she shall take and move your hand
    To hide your word word word word
    Until your kingdom comes to end
    Oh my poor clown
    Why don't you know your money's gone
    Given the time, you've gotta go
    It's night for you, so do sit down
    *Look down sometimes we're to rest
    Yeah my poor clown
    Go clown go clown
    The sun has dropped down from the west
    I'll tell you what you should delight
    We're free. Horizons are so bright

    Whatever. Its jagged, lurching yowl and swagger puts me in mind of Uruguayan beat / punk gods Los Mockers.

    Track Three
    Next up is another English language gem, To The So-Called 'The Guilties'.

    The lyrics are probably also worth printing as they're classics of English as a Lingua Franca!

    To The So-Called The Guilties

    When your heart is down
    And you sit in front of the court
    The lawyers do something for you
    They judge the right against the wrong
    While you don’t know what happened behind
    To the so-called the guilties (chorus)
    They try to differ
    From good to bad
    The court may sentence you
    Prison or even death
    Then beat a-fast
    That you feel what’s in your heart
    If you forget the Lord
    Yes … the Lord above

    This one is even shorter - a little over 90 seconds - and manages to remind me both of The Animals and also of Dutch Beat.

    It chunters along with its own tuff undercarriage knocking the competition off the road.
    The vocals are immaculately guttural, there's a warped melodicism at play AND there's a short sweet stab of broken guitar solo.

    Track Four
    Thanks to the wonders of Highland Cow's recording system, I have another batch of tracks ready to roll.
    Next up is the aptly named I'm a teacher by Benjamin and the Iringa Band.
    This track is close to my heart as it was teaching that took me to Jakarta in the first instance, of course.

    Information on this one is hard to come by, but as far as I can tell, this was written for a 1969 Indonesian movie called Si Djampang mentjari naga hitam - which translates as Djampang's Search for the Black Tiger.

    The song features a singularly demented vocal line in something resembling English by Benjamin Sueb, a Betawi comedian / singer / folk hero. Betawis are to Jakarta what Cockneys are to London, and there's a rich vein of comedy that plays out in street theatre, soap operas, folk tales, etc. usually revolving around the hapless comic efforts of The Little Man to get a break.

    Interestingly, before Sukarno decided to clamp down on western music styles, Bang Ben ('Comrade Ben', as he was known) was a lounge bar / jazz singer, who then switched to safer, more traditional Betawi music to survive.

    By '69, Sukarno was long gone and Sueb got to feature in the aforementioned movie, which I know nothing else about.

    The 10" this track is taken from is spectacularly average until you hit the final track, which is a funked-up, loose, fuzzy splutter of gabbled global English which features a rather remarkable organ / fuzz breakdown over which Bang Ben counts shakily before reminding us we must study in order to become clever.

    Track Five
    Next up is a track that could easily have popped up in the discussion on Filthy Rich's thread about girl garage grooves.

    Land of 1000 Dancers by the rather delectably besilvered all-girl group The Singers is a piece of lo-fi trash genius.

    Kicking off with a weird riff nicked from Day Tripper, this is so drenched in echo it might as well have been recorded in the Alps. Yet again, the English is fractured, if not completely broken. The breakdown in the middle of the song features ear-piercing shrieks and leads into a great semi-spoken autobiographical rap over the guitar solo.

    The "Do you feel alright, honey?" / "Of course, ma'am" goof is one of the greatest instances anywhere ever of a call and response - and I mean anywhere. Ever.

    In a sick and tarnished world, it reaffirms my belief in the innate wonder of the human race to know that forty-something years ago, a bunch of cute Indonesian girls in silver lamé could've captured such innocence, joy and sass and preserved it for all eternity.

    This track is taken from a 10", which as far as I know is the only thing the group ever did. The 10" also features a rather groovy take of Bang, Bang as well as some more trad Indonesian gear, which moves me nowhere near as much.

    Track Six
    Perhaps more than the any other country I can think of, Indonesian LPs are all too frequently total and utter one-trackers. Perhaps this goes some way to explaining why so many of these songs have languished in total and utter obscurity for quite so long.

    I found the first LP by De Hand's many many moons ago and bought it on spec, figuring that any group that included an Indonesian Mick Jagger lookalike, a bloke in heavy shades and a band shot peering down in a circle could not fail to deliver.

    Predictably, of course, it was total dross. Saccharine sweet love songs and sappy ballads with thin, weedy production.

    Given this, I approached the next LP that I came upon by the same band with some degree of trepidation.

    And in essence, my fears were proven right. Then, just as I'm thinking I've wasted yet more rupiah on rubbish, the final track of Side Two kicks in - and it's a killer.

    We Must be Free by De Hand's
    is heavy-duty crunchy funky rock of the kind Jah Shabby has made a career of out of championing. There's even some lovely hi-hat action amidst the solo and some Right On Be Free of the era lyrics.

    There's a lovely choppy breakdown at the tail end and then, like all the best house guests, it refuses to overstay its welcome and is gone.

    Track Seven
    Whilst we're on a funky rock tip, let's return to the mighty AKA and another track from their aforementioned Crazy Joe LP.

    Skip Away kicks off Side Two of the album and kicks like a mule with a riff that sounds for all the world like a Mr. Pharmacist rip.

    Prime early 70s snarly post-garage hard-hitting rockin' head kick business.

    Ucok, the lead singer (RIP), delivers his sneery get outta here riposte as all around him organs swirl, riffs come tumbling down, fuzz ripped solos go off and there's even a little playful guitar and drums breakdown shakedown outro for good measure.

    Track Eight

    Next up is a rather later entry by De Favourite's Group.
    Yes, that's right.
    Random use of the greengrocer's apostrophe is incredibly not exclusive to British fruit and vegetable retailers and Internet forum posters, but even managed to make it all the way to south-East Asia.

    Hati Jang Tjemburu ('Jealous Heart)
    comes from a 1974 LP with a rather splendid psychedelic cover that every single one of you would presumably pick up on spec if spotted in the wild.

    The album is predictably a bit of a let-down apart from this one track, but what a track it is.

    Proto hip-hop open drum intro; languid stretchy liquid fuzz guitar; stoned spacey vocals and a pervasive air of mystery; first-rate hooks; a twin lead solo which has the singer making 'Uh-Uh' noises over it - and throughout, a relentless back-beat funking along just perfectly.

    Top track.
    Last edited by jakartajive; 23-03-2010, 04:15 PM.
    To infinity - and beyond!

  • #2
    Originally posted by jakartajive View Post
    Coming soon . . .

    Is that Rotherham after the thaw?
    "Here comes the Fun Cooker!!"


    • #3
      [email protected]!

      Some absolutely jawdropping architecure there, wow.

      Other worldly. Since it is, I suppose.


      • #4
        I'm assuming that at least 5,000 of those are about six feet square.

        Great photos, Hugh.
        SPIRIT DUPLICATOR Est 2015.


        • #5
          Originally posted by Col Wolfe
          I wonder if there are any Japanese soldiers living on any, still in WWII mode...?
          Probably. Crazy bastards. Funny that they never found any Italians still fighting on years after the war ended.
          SPIRIT DUPLICATOR Est 2015.


          • #6
            Borobudur, that's an amazing place. Mount Bromo, volcanic eruptions, Jogja (pre-quake).

            ah, memories.

            i also stayed up a tree when the komodo dragon came calling. seemed a sensible policy.


            • #7
              Does the binman get a little prezzie at Xmas
              some times play g+ with back noise,some times vg , super psyché juju lpfront sleeve is very nice vg back vg , but the top corne left is eating buy rats, ask for picture


              • #8
                Originally posted by medlar View Post
                Does the binman get a little prezzie at Xmas
                Let's hope so.
                He certainly deserves one.

                To infinity - and beyond!


                • #9
                  Originally posted by jakartajive View Post

                  if I ever DJ at a Brillo it'll be like this, you wait and see


                  • #10
                    Originally posted by babycart View Post
                    if I ever DJ at a Brillo it'll be like this, you wait and see
                    No wonder he's hollering - someones shoved a branch up his arse

                    ..actually it might be an Eel now I look closer - perhaps you can confirm Shaun?
                    "..hole...road...middle thereof"


                    • #11
                      Originally posted by LDJB View Post
                      No wonder he's hollering - someones shoved a branch up his arse

                      ..actually it might be an Eel now I look closer - perhaps you can confirm Shaun?
                      its a prolapse.


                      • #12
                        Amazing stuff, an interesting history lesson and a musical/cultural context provided for those very interesting looking record sleeves.


                        • #13
                          A great, evocative post - thanks JJ.

                          I really enjoyed the Crazy Joe tune but was mesmerised by the children's angklung music. There's a cracking little version of the Mission Impossible theme on Youtube as well, that I've just stumbled across looking for more.

                          Please tell me school bands put out LPs of this stuff?
                          Mixes, compilations and the like


                          • #14
                            great read JJ - thank you


                            • #15
                              Nice one Hugh - a great read and am looking forwards to listening to all the tunes.
                              "As technology has advanced, vinyl records are outdated as they are music from the 19th Century so only hipsters and elderly people buy vinyl records".

                              Mixes for your delectation: