Things that go Plump in the night
Candid confessions of a Plump DJs neophyte on the passion for rank dancefloor maneuvers and err… the electric existentialism of breakbeat. WARNING: If you’re easily offended by one-eyed breakbeat fans, parental supervision may be required.
I try to remember what I loved about the book Where the Wild Things Are when I was a kid. Whether it was the illustrations of monsters or whether the thought of surreal dreams that could spawn into a bizarre realness fed my subconscious into believing anything was possible. A decade and a half later, I wake up from a dream, still feeling like I’m in that astral world, but no longer dash to the light switch to check for crocodiles under my bed. Instead, society has taught me that imagination is insane. “Don’t be silly!” Academia has taught me nothing but verbatim, with a harsh slap on the hand for those who wish to think with their own minds without the Ph.D. to verify. Bottoms UP to the daily grind. But, what if…
What if we still got excited about running through the sprinkler and not pissed off from getting wet in the rain? What if we still rejoiced in using the bed as a trampoline and not disappointed because we had to sleep in it alone for one night…or three? What if we didn’t give a shit what other people thought and just danced? For those of us who have trouble remembering how to be a free spirit, there is a remedy: dance. Dance like there’s a party in your pants. Dance like no one is watching. Do the “Melbourne shuffle” or the Mr. Bean dance. Do the “freshest style straight outta Brooklyn”. Let the music be the sprinkler to arouse and refresh you as you feel it on your body. And when you hear creaks and noises in the middle of the night…jump up! “Turn the lights on…turn the lights on!” No it’s not GURU’s Jazzmatazz it’s Lumberjack Lee and Handy Andy – ready to mend the broken bones of broken dreams with a bit of Plump glue. Quick! Hide those life-size cardboard cutouts.
What have the Plump DJs got to do with Where the Wild Things Are or trampolines or sprinklers? Everything. Because for some inexplicable reason (which I’m about to explain), the Plump DJs music will evoke that long-forgotten sense of child-like freedom. With compositions unique enough to break today’s slum of commercialism whilst retaining that mood of fuzzy familiarity that turns us into musical homing pigeons. And being a child of the 80s, any cognitive association to Electric Boogaloo, sweat bands, PVC and bad hair-don’ts, makes me just wanna have fun. So much fun, that I can no longer dance “seriously” from being so amused with silly dancing – inspired by the moves of Mr. Bean crossed with an inebriated Boris Yeltzin in Adidas track-pants with a tacky electro rubber jacket that melts under club lights. There is no doubt that I look like a total knob on the dancefloor. To all my friends, I profusely apologise for embarrassing you. What am I saying? Now we all dance like that! Ever since we heard our first Plump DJs track.
Someone once asked me why it was that I was mainly a breakbeat and Plump DJs advocate. As my hand moves towards my chin, the words dribble out like the inevitable deep-sleep drool:
Techno: should be renamed “Chechyn Tech-no” because just like the former soviet state of Chechnya, Techno is also an entity that has been fucked over by [talent-less] tyrants.
House: one more article on Basement Jaxx and it’s time for a riot.
Big Beat: he’s come a long way, but when is Norms gonna retire?
Hip-Hop: next person to use “to all my brothers down south, east, north, west” will be Koffii Anaan to call world peeps for a summit to discuss the overuse of tired lyrics.
Breakbeat: the unsung hero of dance music and pure in its non-purism; as liberal as an alley cat, more seductive than Peggy Lee (Layo & Bushwacka Deep South), sometimes as mellow as John Coltrane (Beber & Tamra Travellin’ On), funkier than James Brown, 80s as Herbie H, fresh as Nubreed, tribal as Afrika Bambaataa but always as exciting as stealing lollies from the forbidden lollie jar. Breakbeat is an all rounder genre that satisfies every craving at any time of the day without doing your head in. There’s always plenty of room for creativity, which makes most breakbeat artists groundbreakers and not ballbreakers.
Though, you don’t need a black belt in astro physics to figure out that it’s all about relativity. You might boff over breakbeat in the same way that I violently embrace the porcelain steering wheel over Euro-cheese. The poor buggers who listen to that may be tone deaf, but the resident evil is the media (plus PR) who is guilty of spreading lies to pre-pubescent adults- “Yeah, Darude’s new track rocks!” Even though taste is subject to subjectivity, there is definitely The Emperor and His New Clothes syndrome within our music midst. No, we don’t want to see Paul Oakenfold in the nuddy, either, thankyou. The imperfect-oh media is always a barrel of laughs.
There was one instance where an interviewer asked Lee Rous if there were any plans for future collaborations with Fatboy Slim. Awkward pause. (Par-don? Fatboy Slim as opposed to…? What planet was this media Martian on? How horribilius horrificus! But, the question was a perfect-oh example of how the misinformed media throw everyone in pappa’s old bag).
“Um, No.”, was the Plump answer.
Amongst the soiree of groupies, trainspotters and some no-talent DJs & producers, who sell the idea of “my image is more important than…” to music media that only care about the marketability of popular consensus, I stand in the middle of the dance floor doing my Mr. Bean dance wondering if the superficiality is worth having a bitch and moan about. “Um, No”. That’s just the way the jelly wobbles. All is necessary for contrast. So, I shall leave the critique up to those certified chin-strokers who really make nose candy out of it as I lurk away from the club like the tomato stain in the Revolution 909 videoclip. Back on the pursuit of “unspinached” symphonies and the search for the perfect breakbeat to dance to. And where should I end up, but the Laboratoire Plump. (C’mon, you knew this was coming!).
The Plump DJs remix of Orbital’s Funny Break is one track that always throws me into the deep-end of imagination: did the Plumps use a frantic typist on a typewriter as a sample, or the spanking sounds of being slapped on the bare arse with a wooden chopping board, cheered on by the horn used in stadium games? Is that the pizza delivery boy knocking on the door? Will he be answered with armpit farting noises and the borrowed sounds of Rolf Harris’s whoopee board? Is that the siren of the ambulance coming to get you from the frenzy that’s technically knocked you out? Or did you drown in the sonar pings? And amidst this wacky wizardry, how on earth did they juxtapose divine vocals and come up with a track punchier than Mohammed Ali and more enduring than classical beauty. Beats me.
Music is the vessel that carries you across the seas to a remote island for your personal experience. If the thong fits – wear it (depending on cultural differences, this may mean you wear it in yer bum crack, but hey… if the shoe fits). If the clog fits – go to Holland (or just smoke a joint). Barefoot? Try Papua New Guinea. Melbourne, otherwise known as the arse end of the world, is suffering from a miserable winter. But tomorrow, I’m gonna put my sprinkler on full blast and charge through it in my frilly undies screaming “I CANT STOP THE FEVER!” Cover your eyes but keep your ears open. This is sonic tonic. Bust open a bottle of Miranda Estate Cabernet Sauvignon and make a toast to the Professors Plump and the breakbeat handypeople in the hope that they will forever be inspired to hit the funny bones of us who need to keep the craziest moves alive. Kanpai!
Keep it coming… ‘cause we’ll keep dancing.
Disclaimer: these are purely the writer’s personal opinions and not the collective views of artists mentioned. Please don’t have a hissy fit.
If you don’t think breakbeat is all that, or if you’re sick and tired of reading superfluous praise for the same old tired Plump DJs tracks, you can have a hissy fit about sixthdegree’s dance music polemic – in the general forum.
