Apparently, I buy too many records

My wife Helen, like every other woman i've ever lived with, believes that I buy too many records.

Which, as every record-buying man knows, is a ridiculous belief.

I will concede, however, that I do indeed buy a lot of records and that I don't afford them the same amount of listens and attention that I did 20 or 30 years ago.

To this end, I have decided to blog about the records that I buy, in order to help my appreciation of them - and perhaps to show Helen that I don't buy that many records after all.

Because i'm crap with deadlines the blog posts will be sporadic and probably be about a month or 2 behind but that's just the way i am! The posts will not necessarily be actual reviews (most likely comments, at best) and will generally be pretty damn short due to the reasons outlined above. As a writer in a previous existence i have decided not to worry about writing as art in the pieces but, instead, to attempt to convey feeling over semantic (and often grammatic) perfection.

And 'OCRB'? It stands for 'Obsessive Compulsive Record Buying' - a little known mental health affliction that is potentially damaging to the bank account but ultimately life-affirming. It is sad.......but a nice form of sad.

Friday 17 June 2011

Den Haan: Gods from outer space (The courier of death)


To say that i'm proud of this discovery would be a huge understatement - i play it to most people who visit and always make a point of showing the cover in all it's oestrogen pumping homo-erotic glory. I know very little about Den Haan and chanced across this gem by accident, when trying to make up a Boomkat order to above the £50 (free postage), i listened to a few brief samples and immediately ordered two copies - as i knew Matt the hat would love it as much as me (he has been riding this retro synth wave as much as me lately).

So, what does it sound like?

Gay disco. That's what it sounds like. Hi-energy Belgian new beat muscle music with synth washes, vocodered vocals, pumping beats and a sense of fun rarely heard from my music collection. As dance friendly as 'I will survive' when played to a gang of marauding pissed be-pinked hen night fat girls, and as fun as a fumble in the dark after sniffing large amounts of poppers and......errrrrr i'd better stop there.

Camp as hell and twice as rocking as Metallica, in its own way.
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