WRDM36

I felt dead guilty after rattling them two sisters down the back of Flan O'Brien's on Saturday night. They must have been in their mid-sixties AT LEAST, and there I was getting off with them, putting my hands down their gold lame hot pants, pushing my hands up their gold lame boob tubes to have a feel of their boobs before putting my hands back down their pants so I could get to their nipples. At one point I was smashing one of their back-doors in whilst getting tea-bagged off of the other. At another (point) I was getting gagged off by one whilst the other was giving me a love bite on my neck. They were both about 65 years old, sisters. I felt fucking ashamed of myself after I'd exploded all over their faces down the back of Flan O'Brien's. It was only 11.30pm.

That's the gift and the curse when it come's to a night out in Walsall; there are slags everywhere but they're all either looking like:


Or like:


Or like this:


After I'd finished with these two...


...I went down Yate's Wine Bar and pulled a bird who looked like Sophie Ellis-Bextor. We shared a jug of Woo Woo and talked about indie music for a bit. After filling her front box in the bogs I left her in the cubicle to clean up and sprinted out of the door, pulling my jeans up as I ran. I still felt guilty so I went for a walk up Glebe Street and pulled a woman called Donna for five pounds. She had a slab for a backside and her tits looked sad so I just asked for a blow job. She made me put a Rubber Jonny condom on though so, although I came, it was through a semi. I walked away, past Donna's colleagues, past Donna's boss, up through Caldmore and down the hill towards Joseph Leckie. I felt so guilty. So ashamed. So lost and so guiltily ashamed of myself.

- Why did you feel so guilty, Tonka?
- Because I knew there was something more important I should be doing than shagging birds all the time.

Here I was, on a weekend trip to Walsall, feeling sorry for myself when I should be properly buzzing about life. I'd been with at least four women in one night, for Christ sake! Something wasn't right.


I called Manu from Beats and Beyond. I told him about my evening and that I still had an empty feeling inside of me. Quick as a flash, he reminded me that I hadn't updated the Weekly Review of Dance Music for almost a month. He joked that if I'm not careful, people will call WRDM the MONTHLY Review of Dance Music and that everyone will forget that I'm the premier alternative voice in dance and finally move wholesale to Wunderground or Resident Unvisor. That thought alone, the dozens of people who still read the Weekly Review of Dance Music moving to read the shit on every other fucking dance music website instead made me throw up outside the chip shop on Delves. I returned to our phone call and promised Manu to write WRDM36 as soon as I got back to London and that I'd plug his website more than I've ever done before because, to be honest, after WRDM, Ran$om Note, Teshno, Minimal Messages, Resident Advisor, VICE, Attack, Don't Stay In and Zap! Bang! Magazine, Beats and Beyond is THE best music website going. Bar none.

- Manu, you're right. Once again. I need to concentrate on what I'm good at; writing about dance music. I spend so much time writing about my week on the hugely popular Tonka's Week on the highly functional Ran$om Note website, that I've forgot that WRDM is what I'm best known for.
- Tonka, it's ok. Stop drilling chicks up the arsehole so much and start writing about DJs, producers, nightclubs and drugs again on YOUR website, not that Dalston-centric, arty-farty multi-faith, multi-genre white-washed webzone every Friday morning. Don't let people forget WRDM, ok? OK?
- Ok, I'll see you on the fifteenth for the Ran$om Note drinks down Haggerston, ok?
- See you then, Tonks. Sweet dreams, hun. Text me when you get home, when you get to bed. Ok?
- Will do. Just one more thing.
- Yes?
- What shall I review this week? I've not got a fucking clue what's going on in dance music at the moment.
- I've just got fifteen words for you. You should review the new EP on Them Records called The Run by Hiroaki Iizuka.
- Sorted. Cheers, Manu. See you on the fifteenth.
- Night, Tonka.

The Run by Hiroaki Iizuka is fucking brilliant. It's been released on a record label called Them Records, which is great for doing jokes like: what record label is The Run by Hiroaki Iizuka on? Them Records. What records? Them Records. No, which label is The Run on? Them Records. What fucking records? Them. Them what? Them Records. No, what label is The Run on? Them Records. No, not them records, one record: The Run - which label is it on? Them Records. It's a hilarious joke that you can only have with people who aren't as up on dance music as you and I.


I've not stopped listening to the double A side and B side of The Run since it was sent to me by a very dear friend who, coincidently, is performing a super PR job for Them Records at the moment. The A side is The Run, which sounds like a mechanical mantra repeating itself over a really cool techno beat. The B side opens with the heralded dirty, raw and driving J.Tijn remix which sounds like a tool. After that you get a brand new Hiroaki Iizuka song called Dot. I won't write a spoiler on that one, you'll have to buy the whole EP and listen. Just trust me when I say every track on The Run is fucking brilliant.

Hiroaki Iizuka - The Run
Them Records - OUT NOW
9/10


It feels so good to be back on WRDM. I'll be back next week with a very special MASSIVE QUESTIONS with Anne Savage and an exposé that will rock the very foundations of the dance music industry.

Follow me: @tonkawrdm
Email me: tonkawrdm@gmail.com