Most-read pieces on FatRoland.co.uk: February 2017

1 - You remember Orbital, right?
"You remember? The lighty headmen? The Glastonbury doyennes? The Satanic majesties?"

2 - Fake news: there's a famous faux band in town
"Swap the booze for meth so I don't entirely violate his artistic copyright."

3 - Step inside Brian Eno's Reflection
"Bottoms."

4 - Instrumental electronic floof for your creative ears
"If you need something for your (un)conscious mind to surfboard on, dive in."

5 - Listen to PVT's Kangaroo (not an actual kangaroo, hashtag fakenews)
"If the real Fat Roland ever finds out I'm using his name, I'm in trouble."

Futher Fats: see January's most read pieces here.

Angry ambience: Blanck Mass has a new writhing earworm

Blanck Mass's sound is so fatty, it's like sonic lard. You can feel it slithering down your ears, gloop after gloop, until it solidifies inside you. Look at it fester. It's beginning to writhe. Are those maggots or earworms?

All these are good things, by the way.

Benjamin John Power's Blanck Mass is about to cook up a new album called World Eater, and if the calories are as high as their last work Dumb Flesh (album of the year 2015), then give me a napkin and a spoon - I'm going in.

Have a taste of their first video from World Eater, seven minutes of angry ambience called Please. Did I do the eating metaphor right? Did I do well? Dammit, this has made me hungry.



Further Fats: Fake plastic CDs and eating too much cheese before writing a blog post (2008)

Further Fats: Best electronic albums of 2015 - Dumb Flesh (2015)

Learning from Anthony Burgess

Today is the 100th anniversary of the birth of Anthony Burgess, the leading Manchester author and one of the biggest writery people of the 20th century.

Tonight, I'm compering an anniversary event A Life In Letters at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation. It's a pretty flipping amazing honour, and I've got actual proper actors - Arthur Bostrom and Verity Henry - to be the voices of the letters.

Delving through his letters - kept in a secure archive in Manchester - has been pretty revealing. The life of a writer laid bare: the aspirations, the arguments, the mentoring and the sheer mechanics of it all. All the while being more erudite than I could ever hope to be.

As for me? My writing life at the moment consists solely of these moments:

"Time to write a blog post, oh look Twitter, maybe I'll nip to the newsagent, hey I wrote a thousand words, hello Facebook, what's this in this bin?, sorry I didn't reply to your email, editing editing editing, more Twitter, that's not my porpoise, eek deadline!, probably should put some clothes on, time to write a blog post..."

I don't think Burgess mentions nipping off to the newsagents once in his letters. I've a lot to learn.

Listen to PVT's Kangaroo (not an actual kangaroo, hashtag fakenews)

I tripped across this cracking track on the new PVT album New Spirit. Despite the nicely loose live drums, Kangaroo's gawky electronic urgency seems to have laid their post-rock roots to rest. Have a listen below.

PVT, formerly Pivot, are one of many musical stars that had to change their name because of a legal challenge.  Examples that come to mind are London Suede, "The" Verve, and Fat Roland.

That's right. I never used to be "Fat Roland". I was "Michael Jackson" then I was "Prince" then I was "The Edge out of U2" then I was "Menswe@r" then I was "Lady Gaga" then I was "Stormzy". Sued by the lot of them. Honestly, I can't catch a break.

If the real Fat Roland ever finds out I'm using his name, I'm in trouble. Apparently he's easily angered and has tentacles.

The Feeling's Fill My Little World is still causing feels 11 years later

Great. I've prattled about in the rain looking for a place to write for HOURS. I've finally chuffing found a drinking hole with a plug, wifi and a seat that's not been crapped on by some drunk pensioner. Result, right? Except the jukebox is playing The Feeling's Fill My Little World.

You know the song. It's jolly without being The Lightning Seeds; it's summery without being Fresh Prince, it's jangly while being as far from The Smiths as it's possible to be in the world of white-boy pop. "Show some love," he squeaks. "Come fill my little world right up, right up."

You've filled my little world with liquid bum drizzle, man from The Feeling. Filled me right up: you can tell by the brown tide lines on the insides of my eyes. I already looked like Johnny Vegas dragged through a swamp backwards, and now I stench of your easy-listening drivetime diahorrea.

I'm sat in the darkest corner of the pub. The pub is famous for its cheese lunches. It's still raining outside. I'm drinking a pint of sub-three quid bitter. I'm meant to be writing something worthy, about Aphex Twin or Warp Records or bleepy bloop or whatever.

And everything is ruined because that song is in my head.

Thing is, there's a final twist in this sonic wound, this weeping gash of audio guff. The jukebox has moved on. While I've been hammering this blog post together, the chuffing jukebox has long since moved on.

Jukeboxes always move on. That's why jukeboxes will always be better than me.

Clark reaches new heights with Death Peak... just hang back a bit, perhaps

Clark's back with a tune that kind of stumbles into the room all gawky and tangled before arching its back and spreading some pretty beautiful techno wings.

Peak Magnetic is the first single from Clark’s next album Death Peak and you can listen to it below. Apparently the album's full of vocals. Death Peak is also a place - at least, in Clark's brain:

"I would repeat it to myself like a mantra. Death Peak, Death Peak, Death Peak. It starts gently, all meadows and butterflies and ends with you on top of this gnarly fearsome mountain peak, surveying a shattered landscape below."

Mental note. Never go rambling with Clark. I'm sure he's got the right hiking boots, has a laminated map, and wets his finger to test the wind direction, but, I dunno, I'm not sure it's Edale he'll walk us to.

This is what happened on stage tonight

I knew it would come to this, but I've been far too busy prepping for a gig to write my regular blog post.

Which is fine because gigs pay while I'm lucky to get a bit of pocket fluff from my blogging.

However, since you're kind enough to be reading this, here's an outline of the performance was preparing today. Think of this as free entry to the Fat Roland gig you didn't go to.

I walk on stage 'dressed'  as a psychic fairy. After some inspirational phrase / party popper action, I introduce people to my fairy tale medallions. I promise to perform a mind trick. I show some pictures of myself then photographs I've 'taken' on the way to the event. There's a conversation with Derren Brown. Next, it's the big gay nose song. After the big gay nose song, I read someone's mind (not really) and everyone goes wild. Oh and I have a wand. And a dinosaur and Father Christmas and a toaster and a startled muppet.

All of this involves props made from card, including the wand. Hence no time to write a blog post. Oh, hold on. I've written this, haven't I? As long as schedule this to publish after my gig, I'm sorted for today's blog post.

Blogging, yay!

Instrumental electronic floof for your creative ears

Here are some old instrumental albums I've been using as a writing soundtrack recently.

They're all pretty much of an era and style, and they're scuzzy YouTube rips, but if you need something for your (un)conscious mind to surfboard on, dive in.

There's one that's not featured below, and that's B12's Electro Soma (band pictured above). It's non-embeddable, but you can click through to it here.

Go listen. Then buy the albums because they're right cracking, they are.









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