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soundcloud.com/slugwife/whacklack03
The Whack Lack series is about artists creating their own battlewax record; with tunes designed to work in their own right, as well as giving scratch DJs and vocalists some new material to work with. The battlewax concept is to keep it simple yet effective, focusing on the right hook with the right beat and nothing more. By encouraging a variety of artists to work on the series, they can each find their own sound within it, and have a different outlet for their creativity that doesn’t revolve around dance floors and mix down tech. For this third edition, we’re excited to feature Fanu, long time stalwart of the breaks and bass scene. Having released extensively as both Fanu and FatGyver, his music is driving, infectious, and always a must-have for any serious breaks enthusiast. He’s pulled out all the stops for Whack Lack Vol. 3, providing a listening experience that is both raw and finessed, and utterly unlike anything else you’ll hear on this side of Gastropodia Prime.
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Denni was beyond tired of trudging through dark and dishevelled streets, dealing with the tweaked-out GasPods that resided there. Her deal with Mac was to shift some of his…“product”…and then she’d be able to get her hands on the box of styluses she so desperately needed. In typical shady fashion, he kept moving the goalposts. What was supposed to take an afternoon had been going on for over a week, and she was wondering whether she was ever going to get what she wanted.
A slime-covered denizen of the decaying city shuffled towards her and burbled something unintelligible. She knew what it wanted though, and swapped a shaker for a crumpled wedge of Slimeoleons. It almost immediately disintegrated itself in front of her, slowly bubbling and melting in to the cracked pavement.
“I’m done with this,” she muttered to herself.
Heading off down the street, money and a couple of full shakers in her bag, she plotted a route home that would take her past Zippo’s place. He always had plenty of equipment lying around, and enough of a taste for the sodium side of life that she reckon she could swap for what she needed.
It turned out that he did have a few cartridges for her turntables, and she had enough salt to convince him to part with a chunky old drum machine too. This would put a new spin on things; a new angle for her to experiment with. Making her own beats, that was a novel idea. As she slopped away from Zippo’s apartment she felt something cold gently land on her face. Snow was falling everywhere around her. That doesn’t happen often these days. It was already a brown and grey mush before it hit the ground, but it was nice to have a change of climate for once.
Denni upped her pace and headed home to play with her new toy.