Back once again with the renegade master, two bob, alka, back for the people. Back once again for the renegade master...sing it with me, lads! Come on! This week's Weekly Review of Dance Music is all about reviews because that's what this website is all about: reviews.

I love reviewing things. A great sense of achievement and belonging flies into my funnel after I publish a music review post. I get to tag all of the artists into the Tweet that I send out to advertise it, and I always end up feeling like I'm contributing to the dance music scene because more often than not, the artist, or their PR company, will Retweet me or sometimes even reply to say "thanks." I love Twitter for that, it's dead easy to trick yourself into thinking you're actually mates with DJs and producers from all around the world. I sometimes publish a post, sit back and see a few Retweets and some positive feedback and I genuinely feel like I'm playing a part in something big and important for a few minutes. LOLoutLOUD.

It is a good laugh though, doing what I do.

Look at these fucking reviews now:
The Warrior Tones EP is an EP from Sound Warrior Records that, in my opinion, showcases the best in foreign dance music by some of the best looking foreign lady DJs and producers ever to have walked the planet.

Milkus by Daniela La Luz sounds like Foreign Muck at The Key in 2005, in a good way. Here's a Boris Horel reference for all those who were there:

I can imagine Boris Horel playing Milkus at Foreign Muck at The Key in 2005.

The Only by Whim-EE is the exact opposite of Perc's recent edit of Moby's song, Thousand. A bloke keeps whispering the word, "love" and it's a really nice and subtle dance music track that keeps things nice and subtle by rattling along nicely with loads of subtle touches here and there to keep things ticking over until the end of the song. It's fucking brilliant, to be honest.
Night Walker by Jenifer Mayanja is not, as you'd expect, a cheeky, nu-rave SMD edit of Walk The Night by Skatt Bros. but it's just as good. There's loads of tribal percussion on it, which I adore, and an irregular (compared to a lot of old hard house records I used to listen to) bass line that anchors the music beautifully. The best thing about Night Walker, however, is the vocal line: it sounds like a handicapped person trying to laugh and, I'm ashamed to say, I found myself laughing out loud on the tube as I listened to it.

I just pray to God that I never get handicapped because I'll never be able to listen to this song again!

Limbic Resonance by Dakini 9 (what a weird name, and I bet there's not 9 of them!) is very hard to describe. Background noises, like the sound of a ZX Spectrum loading up, shadow another irregular bass line whilst quite a few different pad sounds come in and out over the top of what sounds like an 808 kick drum with the attack nudged half way around so it's not stepping on the toes of the other instruments, is the best way to describe Limbic Resonance by Dakini 9.

Warrior Tones EP
Released by Sound Warrior on 6 April 2015


Apartment Records have got another one of their famous 12" dance music releases coming out soon on Apartment Records. This one is called Aquarius by Steve Legget featuring Greg Blackman. There are three remixes of Aquarius on this 12" package and here's a review of each one of them:

Aquarius (Believe Mix) - This is the A side and, musically, it sounds like half a dozen snooker balls being knocked around under the sea on a Kingston boardroom full-size table by Mer-Man and a merman, in a good way. I couldn't make out what the bloke was singing (something about being sad and bad) so I tried to search for it on Rap Genius but it's not up there yet.
Aquarius (Mark Hand's Rework) - ...is just that; a rework. And what a rework! I can well imagine Masters at Work playing this down Pacha at about 2am. The Ibiza sun still, somehow, blazing as the sun-glazed babes in massive sunglasses sashay from side to

what the fucking hell am I talking about?

There's a wicked one note pad line that washes all over this rework from start to finish that makes you think you've got a build up of wax in your ears and you're waiting for them to pop - but they never do.

Aquarius (NCW's Lost in the DMZ) - This version has got a woman doing the singing! Don't worry, lads, the singing then goes back to the bloke later on. A monotone acid bass line irons itself right through the middle of a functional 909 snare pattern and various elements of the original song, and it's my favourite track of the set.

Aquarius by Steve Legget featuring Greg Blackman
Released by Apartment Records on 23 March 2015 (I think)

Pre-order it NOW: juno.co.uk/steve-legget-aquarius

It's not often you get a LTO CD for free, is it?

Is it?

Yes. It is for me because I'm Tonka and people are always sending me free music. Most of the music I get sent is absolutely fucking shit, so I don't bother shining a light on it, but this LTO CD is probably absolutely fucking brilliant so I'll paraphrase the press release that accompanied the CD because I haven't got round to listening to it myself yet.

Bristolian, LTO, first garnered attention and some praise in 2011 as part of the Old Apparatus collective with their abstract experimental bass dance music, submerged in swirls and fragments of otherworldly static and interference. LTO is also part of (definitely not racist) Khing Kang King with cult rapper Mowgli.
Now working on solo music as well as with the collaborators I talked about up there ^^^, LTO’s second release under his own name (not his own name, LTO is not his own name) is the rich, characteristically mysterious No Pasa Nada EP; a heavy cloud of grey and baggy sound design, ghostly wooden janglings and deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep sonics. It is at once challenging and, if you listen to it for a second time: mesmerising. No Pasa Nada is crafted in part from found sound and field recordings, treated and disguised beyond their origins. To be honest, it's like listening to a UK grime or dubstep album because of all the delays, claps and 808 sounds on it.

LTO has called this EP No Pasa Nada because he's just got back from an inspirational backpacking holiday in South America, and was forever saying, "no pasa nada!" to the cheeky waiters who kept trying to sneak Mexican peas onto his plate of curry and chips with English gravy.

No Pasa Nada EP by LTO
Released by Injazero records on 30 March 2015

Pre-order it NOW: injazerorecords/no-pasa-nada
Plans for the week: I'm going to Birthdays in Stoke Newington on Thursday night for a chin-stroking night of stroking my chin with the chin-stroking, speccy, side-parted boffins who stroke their chins all day on The Quietus. They're hosting a Perc (live) gig so I'll be heading down there to show my support for my very dear friend, Perc, by stomping about, whistling and punching the air more vigorously than anyone else on the dance floor.

Also on the bill are Dan Chandler, Bronze Teeth and a DJ set by the Hamburger Ladies. I wonder if they even like hamburgers! LOLoutLOUD. I'll find out on Thursday night...

It's only a tenner to get in, although I'm trying my hardest to get a Tonka + 1 to impress my mate, Plus One. I'll be tagging Perc, Bronze Teeth, Birthdays and The Quietus in on the Tweet I send out to publicise this post so hopefully, one of them will sort me out.

Ch-check it out on here: birthdaysdalston/the-quietus-perc

I'll be back at some point in the future with loads more stuff like this.

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WRDMiscellaneous 2015

I've not really got anything to say this week, ladies and gentlemen, so I've delved deep into my note book to see what I can scrape together as a post. What you are about to read are fragments of literature, art work and concepts that have been sat in a Confidential state in the WRDM vaults for the last three and a half years. They are under-developed, unloved and ill-thought-out ideas for posts from the distant and recent past. Think of this week's post as like one of those sample packs for a DAW and the following bits as stems for you to use in whatever it is you're working on at the moment.

If you're a writer of a blog, a journalist on a website that hardly anyone reads, a contributor to a site that has a moderately sized readership or someone at Mixmag who wants to add a little zing to your piece, feel free to use/steal anything from the below. None of it is copyrighted and I won't be bothered if you use any of it. Lewis Boardman; if you're about to start a blog, you could do worse than tucking into this post for some ideas, and I honestly won't care if you pass them off as your own. Winking smiley face.


Blowjob face:

Gmail Drafts Folder:

Sex from behind face:

White Apple iPad2 Notes app:

Post-ejaculation face as the fat, ugly bird you just rattled goes to clean herself up and you're a thirty quid taxi drive away from home:

This is just fucking brilliant and it made my day today:

Smug as fuck face as the best looking bird in the club chats you up in front of your mate who thinks he's the good looking one:

A pitch for a new one-off drama for ITV

Smug as fuck face after rattling the best looking bird in the club:


Fuck me. What a load of shit. I'm getting so bored of writing WRDM these days. Maybe I'll bring back MASSIVE QUESTIONS. No. I won't bring that back. I'll probably do a Peer to Peer with someone soon, I don't know. I'll have a look through a copy of DJ Mag and pick out a journalist at random. People like having their ego kissed by the request of an interview.

I keep meaning to begin work on a live show. I didn't capitalise on my successful contribution to the London Electronic Music Event (LEME), Future of Music Journalism thing last year. I was probably a bit too engaging with my fellow panelists, and the audience were VERY fucking enthralled by me, so I think that some of the influential industry regulars who were milling around got jealous, bent the ears of the organisers and asked them not to book me again. They no doubt fed back that I was drunk by mid-morning, hardly said fuck all of note and didn't have an answer to the question: what is the future of music journalism? However false those accusations are, mud sticks.

These cosy dance music conferences are all the fucking same, lads. They're full of people who know what they're talking about, are able to articulate themselves without having to be drunk and already have an audience ready and receptive to what they've been invited to speak on.

I hope to be invited back on the panel circuit this year though, so, if there are any festival/conference organisers reading this, get in touch and don't listen to any of the green-eyed, shit-stirring villains who saw me speak at LEME 2014. Whatever they say is a MASSIVE load of bollocks.

As for the live show, I've mentioned before that I see myself doing something in a nightclub chill-out room between the hours of 12am and 2am (the prime "coming up" time zone), any later than that and it'll be like talking to a fucking brick wall, know what I mean? I could talk for half an hour or so, play some of  my favourite records and engage in a bit of banter with the punters. People will smile, clap and laugh at anything when they're coming up on ecstasy, so it's bound to be a success.

I can either talk seriously, like on here, or I'll write some clubbing stand-up material; jokes about Richie Hawtin's hair, Detroit DJs having to always bang on about coming from Detroit and humorous observations about how long it takes to come up on a UPS pill. I'm that good at writing, I could probably do serious AND funny and package it all together nicely.

If you want to book me in YOUR chill-out room or festival tent, get in touch and we can make history.

Right, I'm off. Tonka's Week is over on Ransom Note every Friday and I'll be back on here next week with a proper post. This week's WRDM is a right fucking state. LOLoutLOUD.

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UPS this, UPS that. UPS, UPS, UPS, UPS, UPS. That's all anyone in my dance circle ever talks about: UPfuckingS. Honestly, you'd think that Mitsibishis, bluesy woosies and Supermen had never existed.

"You only have to lick one and you'll be up all night."

"They take a while to take hold of you, so don't go doing another half too soon."

"People are dropping dead because they're swallowing three in one go because the backs of their necks aren't tingling after twenty minutes."

"They think that they've been sold duds because they take so long to start working."

"There's a quarter of a gram of MDMA in just one of them."

Bollocks. I double-dropped two of them at once on Friday night and I was as sober as a judge who'd just been sent down for fifteen years for...

...fucking hell, am I really doing a post about UPS ecstasy E tablets about a month after they were in the news?

Anyway, so I double dropped these UPS tablets down House of God on Friday night and, did they work? Did they heck as like! Terry Donovan had just thrown his bright blue Adidas tracksuit top theatrically into the crowd as I did my first quarter (I was drunk, but I still heeded the UPS warnings about how strong they are). Twenty minutes later, and fifteen minutes into Trade's properly fucking horrible - in a good way - live set I dropped the other three quarters of the first pill in one.

- Tonka, I thought you said earlier that you double-dropped them in one go.

- Artistic licence, mate. Fuck off.

Half an hour later, not even a shiver down my spine. I was no nearer to holding hands with a stranger than I was to getting off with anyone younger than thirty five in the drum and bass room. I do love House of God, but if there's another club night in the UK with a median age higher than the one at HOG, I'll eat one of Jamiroquai's hats. I was talking to one bird up on the balcony and she offered me some speed! I said, "love, I'm not doing speed. It's not 1995 and I've just done one of them UPS pills, I'll be flying in a bit." She said, "Suit yourself, you cheeky article". That's how old she was.

Surgeon and Blawan were now high-fiving one another and chucking handfuls of glitter into the crowd. This should have been amazing, but these UPS tabs were either taking a very long time to dissolve in my tummy or they were duds. I paid a tenner each for them. A fucking tenner each. I was fuming by the time Trade were playing their last tune, It Takes Two by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock. I necked the other one whole and steamed through the smiling faces until I reached the wonky disco room. There was a handful of women on the dance floor so I went and danced aggressively next to them - it was the booze talking now. I was almost punching the floor to the beat at one point, and I kept pouting. The women didn't want to know so I went upstairs to the drum and bass room.

I don't really like drum and bass that much but, as I'd given techno and disco a go and the UPS still hadn't delivered, maybe some drum and bass music would sort me out. Would it fuck. I was stood in the middle of the dance floor for ages, riding a low, slow skank with my hands behind my head, trying to massage out a high. I even tried talking to a middle-aged woman called Denise and pretended that I was fucked in the hope that I'd get a sneaky cuddle. I got a cuddle alright but as soon as I asked her for a snog, she smelt my breath, saw how normal my eyeballs were and told me off for not being drugged up. By this point, I didn't know if my main aim was to be fucked up or to be on the pull. I was so confused, "I should be gurning by now", I said to myself in one of the corridors, "I'll give it half an hour."

Between 2.30am and 3am, I stood marching on the spot in the main room, trying my hardest to come up on these UPS pills but, alas, it was not to be, so I fucked off home before Sunil Sharpe had even got the chance to impress me. I thought about buying one of them balloons as a last, desperate attempt to feel something, but, to be honest, you look fucking stupid walking around with a big, red balloon hanging out of your gob, don't you?

I paid over the odds for a taxi back to Walsall and fell asleep in my mom's spare room, and I didn't even brush my fucking teeth. I woke up at 8.30am, brushed my teeth twice, had a shower, got dressed, had a cup of tea, brushed my teeth again and left the flat for a nice walk into Walsall town centre. You can't beat a Weatherspoon's full English breakfast when you've been fucked up on nought but booze. It was a shame them pills didn't work out, but I didn't half feel good about myself for the rest of the weekend. There's something really arrogant about being sober and fresh when you should be sat like a twat on your sofa, semi-comatose on a MASSIVE come down.

I'm writing this on Monday afternoon, two and a half days after swallowing the second of the two UPS pills. It feels good to be writing about dance music and clubbing again after last week's Racism Special. I really don't understand how anyone could be racist, or could hate another human being because, we're all one, aren't we? We're all one body on one Earth staring at the same future, together. Do you feel me? Do you feel it? I don't hate anyone. Not really. Not even Chubby Funster and Seb Wheeler out of Mixmag. I can't hate them because they're just the same as me; human beings. We're all contributing to the dance music community and we're all in that community together, sharing ideas and articles and points of view and we have to respect one another. Dance music is dance music is dance music and the over-arching story we're all characters in is one of love. Not a romantic love story, but a truthful one. Love is truth. Do you understand? When I say that love is truth, do you get what I'm saying to you? Just think about it and hold my hand. Don't think anymore. Just let it be, let the truth wash over you and be involved with me because when you become involved with me, you become involved with truth, and if you're involved in truth you're in love, and love is our aim, our journey and our birth, you know? Love. Smile at me and say the word, "love". Say it, it's ok. Fuck, feels good, doesn't it? Just saying the word, "love", when you feel this way is special.

I love writing, I love my blog, I love Tonka's Week on Ran$om Note and I love writing about dance music every week because it's what I was born to do, do you agree? ARGHHHHHHHH!!!! I fucking love it!!!! I love you even more though, my readers. I wish I could get to know every single one of you right now, because you're the ones who mean more to me than anything else in the world. I feel so high right now because of you. So fucking high. Jesus. My legs are going wild under this desk :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)

I mean it. If any of you, my readers, ever need anything at all just email me, Tweet me, Facebook me, whatever. Any time of day or night, and I'll be there for you. I mean that. I love you. You could knock on my door on Christmas Day and I'd lay a place for you at my table. I'm serious. I would. You're ALWAYS welcome at WRDMHQ. Always will be. Hold my hand, man. Give it a squeeze. Fuck. Just typing this stuff out is making the hairs on the back of my goose pimples stand on end. I feel so fucking good right now. I'm not even going to make a big deal out of what looks like a sneaky bit of plagiarism by someone called Lewis Boardman. If I didn't feel so fucked right now, I'd probably kick up a stink about this video from 3:40 onwards, because what this pleased-with-himself beard is showing off as his composition is blatantly Jump Bugs by Syclops aka Maurice Fulton aka looks like a genuinely nice person, as I'm sure Lewis Boardman is.

3:40 onwards.


All the way through.

Lewis Boardman is probably really fucking sound, at the end of the day and it's just a massive coincidence. I really don't want to cast aspersions, and I won't. It's all dance music, isn't it? It doesn't matter if you're listening to Psycho by Lewis Boardman or Jump Bugs by Maurice Fulton, it's all the same, literally, and that's the point. When you're on the dance floor, feeling the way I do right now, you don't question the source, you don't question a thing. You let it flow, you let life flow. Jump Bugs is Psycho is Lewis Boardman is Maurice Fulton is Syclops. House is house, and if one trendy young producer wants to pretend to be another established producer, who is anyone to argue? We all have our heroes and I'm 100% CERTAIN that Psycho is just Lewis Boardman paying homage to one of his heroes. Nothing underhand or quiet about it, in my view. Lewis will put the record straight. I know he will, because he's a good man. Show him love. Show Red Bull Studios love. Show Maurice love. Show me love. Show, show me love.

I feel so good right now. I need to dance. Excuse me. I'm going to sign off and find my rhythm in the living room.

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I am fucking RUSHING right now, lads. Rushing. UPS, man. UPfuckingS.

Dedicated to the memory of Laura M.