Global Beats & Freaks Vol. 1 by Pike

Like some of this? Then get yerselves down to Laaaandaaaan Town for Sunday’s Notting Hill Carnival Afterparty @Nektar, Latimer Rd, W10. 6pm until late. Free entry. No escape.

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Shoot the Runner by Tuco

There’s an argument that says that the more you know about what went into making a film, the less you’ll enjoy it. The people who support this argument say that the magic is destroyed once you know how the special effects were created or that the male lead was a dick to everyone during the entire shoot. I disagree. On a recent holiday in Spain, I read an excellent book which detailed the making of Blade Runner in minute detail, exposing everything and everyone. Once back home, I dug the film out and watched it again for the first time in about five years. Despite now knowing its secrets, I loved the film more. It was richer, more awe-inspiring in its scope and ambition. Even understanding where it failed seemed to enhance the experience. I saw it with new eyes…And as I found out – it’s all about the eyes. This mix is for Blade Runners everywhere.

Tuco

 

 

 

 

110 by Pike

After returning from a recent trip to LA I was inspired by the unorthodox beauty of the city’s freeways and flyovers. A friend and I drove from Malibu through California and Arizona ending up in Monument Valley. The 110 freeway is one of LA’s biggest and links the downtown area to Chavez Ravine, otherwise known as Dodger Stadium. The mix of tunes is trying to encapsulate both the solitude and freedom of road travel through the amazing landscapes that the west has to offer.

Pike.

Factory by Tuco

I was recently commissioned to write a magazine feature about urban exploration. As part of my brief for the article I was to go on an UrbEx mission with a team of explorers who regularly ignore the fences and barriers which dictate which world we live in and go beyond the Keep Out signs. Our mission took us behind the high walls, razor wire and security cameras and into a forgotten industrial wasteland dominated by a long extinct yet still grandiose factory complex. While walking the cavernous production halls and climbing over the rusting hulks of dead machinery one could imagine this place as a thumping, pumping heart of industry. Even in the silence of its decay, I could almost feel the beat of the factory’s endless rhythmic process. I compiled these tracks with that sadly dormant soundtrack in mind.

Tuco.