Shunting Pablo

We've got a multimedia yen today, and despite a fairly late start, did not get any scans done before getting into daywork. Probably for the best, because you can use this hi-res pdf for your daily hour of hate, should you require such props (Take your clown to the doctor! Do it!).

Much better, you will probably agree, to post something pleasant. Or at least only mildly nausea-inducing. Which means it's an mp3 for you boychicks. From France.

We'll tell you a quick story about a young professional acquaintance of ours, a limey, who, like many of his peers, was considering going to business school. Being a limey, he was not thinking of doing it in this hemisphere, despite the fact that there are probably sufficient respected business schools in Europe to staff a whelk stall. The one exception is INSEAD, located on the outskirts of Paris. Why, we asked him, was he not thinking about INSEAD? And this bright young product of Oxbridge, who had travelled 3000 miles to New York to further his career, and had spent several months teaching the poor abroad, answered "BECAUSE I CAN'T F***ING STAND FRENCH PEOPLE."

This might seem odd, maybe even a tad prejudiced, but after listening to a bit of French hip-hop, you realise that quite a few French rappers don't like French people either. Now, before you revolt, we're not going to post any MC Solaar, or Nique Ta Mere, or any of these chaps.

Or anything from La Haine. No, not even that weird mash-up involving Edith Piaf that soundtracks the tracking shot over the banlieue, although that would be pretty cool.

That would be much too tough. We'll stick to jazz-loving hoody-wearing pussy DJ Cam, thank you very much. Cam is widely blamed for the existence of loungecore hip-hop, of which Mad Blunted Jazz is the Deuteronomy. We even heard the stuff described as abstract once, but suspect that the reviewer was using the code-word for "very slow".

Truth be told we usually preferred the later album The Beat Assassinated, although that puts us in a minority. Too much rapping apparently.

For the same reason, it's the samples that make the live version of Gangsta Sh*t so much more special. "Six Million Ways To Die...Choose One", goes Cutty Ranks (not Snoop, and not Flex, kids). "Gettin' super fat dough like Pablo Escobar", goes the other one.

And sitars. Lots of sitars. We're going to Mexico for a few days, this will keep me, and you, company, we pray.

DJ Cam - "Gangsta Sh*t"
Buy "Mad Blunted Jazz" here or Mrs Shadow Records makes do with last year's frocks