This week, I traveled to Lithuania to visit a talented DJ and producer who, earlier this year, accidentally said some unfortunate things about gays, gay people and the gay "lifestyle" (that he INSTANTLY regretted), and was hounded out of dance music more effectively than Tanner Ross was about a week later. Marijus Adomaitis said, "sorry about all that", this week, and he joins me now on the Weekly Review of Dance Music sofa for MASSIVE QUESTIONS with TEN WALLS.

Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Mario Basanov...AWOOGA...

...I'm fucking joking. LOLoutLOUD. Some of you were clapping then.

If there's one thing I can't be bothered to write about on this week's WRDM, it's Ten Walls. Every fucker else can bore the world with that story.
Maybe I should bore the WRDM readership with another futile pop at websites like Thump and Pulse and Thump and Pulse and Meoko and zzz...zzz...zzz...look, here's a report about Seth Troxler's beef with EDM in the style of an article on Thump:

Dance music's most outspoken cowboy, DJ Seth Troxler, has this week re-opened his can of beans with ketamine, EDM, Steve Aoki and Electric Daisy. Seth spoke with WRDM in January to say how, to put things mildly, he's not a fan of ketamine, EDM, Steve Aoki and Electric Daisy.

"Tonka, I'm not a fan of ketamine, EDM, Steve Aoki and Electric Daisy", Seth responded when I asked him if he was a fan of ketamine, EDM, Steve Aoki and Electric Daisy after one of his marathon DJ sets at Fabric in March. This beef seems to rumble on, with neither party giving way. One thing's for sure though, with Seth Troxler unwittingly providing the lazy end of the cash-rich dance press with a continuous monthly loop of identical headlines featuring loads of popular EDM names, and himself, to keep advertisers paying more money for space on their websites.

I really should open up the Weekly Review of Dance Music for advertising space. Imagine all that revenue I'm missing out on. ROFLOFL.
Jesus Christ. This is one of the worst posts I've ever written. This post makes no sense, even to me. Sorry. The cropped Seinfeld picture is good, but the rest has been rubbish. Seriously, I'm sorry. Even this tenuous self-referential Ten Walls apology parody is stretched. I am saddened by my own behaviour. I hope you can forgive me. The quality on Tonka's Week has been better than the shit I write on here lately. Head over to Ran$om Note and have a look:

I'll be back next week with MORE content. I'm almost finished with my minimal hard house remix of I Feel Love by Donna Summer, so keep your lids peeled for that one.

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WRDMammal Love

Our Prime Minister, David Cameron, has had a blow job off of a dead pig. A dead fucking pig. A dead one. LOLoutLOUD. Now, the Weekly Review of Dance Music doesn't normally give a fuck about politics, but in this instance I'd be a bit mental not to jump on the commentary bandwagon.

We've all done some dirty things in our lives, ladies and gentlemen, but there's not many lads I know who can say they've rattled the mouth of a dead pig. The filthiest thing I've ever been a party to was the time I went around to a sixteen year old girl's house during the summer holidays - her parents were out - and she tossed her dog off in front of me with her thumb and forefinger...twice. It was fucking brilliant. Sick, but very funny. After she'd sent the happy dog into the back garden to relax, we watched Space Jam and got off with each other.

Now, I know the RSPCA and Childline/the police might be on my back after reading that anecdote, but the dog is probably dead now and I was definitely also sixteen at the time of this incident. Definitely.

I'm interested to see how David Cameron responds to all of this. His office said today that they're not going to dignify the allegations with a response. That makes it worse for everyone because it'll only prolong the story (worse for him), and the internet jokes have already become shitter and the puns more strained (worse for us). No joke or pun is funnier than saying the following words out loud; David Cameron has had a blow job off of a dead pig. Say it again: David Cameron has had a blow job off of a dead pig. Lovely stuff. The dirty cunt has got this over him for the next five years now and he thought he'd won the lottery when Jeremy Corbyn fucked over all the "electable" candidates in the Labour leadership battle and then didn't sing the national anthem and then we found out he had sex with a human woman before he was famous! ROFLOFL.
MASSIVE QUESTION 1: Was that pig a male or a female pig? I'm not one to cast aspersions, but what are the nation's thoughts on whether or not our Prime Minister had straight oral sex with a dead female pig or gay oral sex with a dead male pig? I know we've moved on from the social "norms" and expectations of the old-school 1960s and 70s, but I'd bet there is still a strong percentage of (probably old, working class and repressed) voters out there who'll now be thinking long and hard about whether to vote for Dave in the next election if it turns out he'd had gay oral sex with a dead male pig. Male or female, straight or gay. It doesn't bother me. If you face fuck a dead pig to get into a rubbish drinking club in Oxford, you're a bit fucking weird. Jez We Can can just rock up every Wednesday and put his feet up now. Cameron's got fuck all on him anymore.

David Cameron: "You didn't sing the God Save The Queen."
Jez We Can: "You face fucked a dead pig."

David Cameron: "You snubbed the Rugby World Cup opening ceremony."
Jeremy Corbyn: "You rattled a dead pig's mouth"

David Cameron: "You look disheveled and unlike a proper politician."
Our Jez: "You've had a blow job off of a dead pig."

David Cameron: "You can't be trusted with the economy."
Red Jez: "Did you or did you not have sexual intercourse with the mouth of a dead pig?"

David Cameron: "You are a threat to the nation's security."
The J-Man: "You got sucked off by a dead pig in front of a load of bullies."
MASSIVE QUESTION 2: Is it THAT big a deal if any of this story is true? Really? Away from all the giggling. You do all sorts of mental things when you're a teenager/early-mid-late twenties. David Cameron's only crime is being allegedly photographed being deep-throated by a dead pig as part of a student peer-pressure exercise. I bet that at the time, if you were there, it was fucking hilarious, and all of the drongos on Facebook and Twitter who are either faux-outraged by it or laughing themselves inside out at how embarrassed he must be by it all are just jealous that THEY weren't getting THAT involved when THEY were young, free and single. If I could turn back time, I would have helped toss that dog off instead of standing behind the sofa, sniggering. It is with deep regret that I, a definitely sixteen year old Tonka, did bottle it and watch from the sidelines as Lozza got right involved in being young and stupid.


I'll be back next week with loads more excellent social commentary, straight-talking no-nonsense and a wonky-eyed trumpeting of my own self-importance when it comes to the world of dance.

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When I'm not being interviewed by publications such as Private Eye and Hottest Asian Babes, I'm railing against the injustices served up against my comrades in music journalism, like Ma** out of ***ts *n* B**o*d, and A***e*, who writes for *oll*** S**ne, and the many, many blokes who told me about how shit DJ Mag are at paying up on time.

When I'm not pretending to be angry at these publications for not paying up, I'm pretending to give a shit about how dance music journalism is reported in magazines like Mixmag, Thump, Pulse, DJ Mag, Mixmag and Thump. LOLoutLOUD. Over the weekend, Thump pushed a lame article they wrote in March (MARCH) about Seth Troxler moaning about ketamine as if he'd only just said it! Deary me. No wonder Thump are as successful as they are, I mean, I don't have a fucking clue how Thump are as successful as they are.
This links to an article from MARCH 2015
Yes, I do.

It's because they're run by the billionaire villains at VICE, and they'll promise to pay any old writer to churn out a load of badly written bollocks on a daily basis, but that's old news. And boring.

Let's talk about clubbin'!

If I wasn't going to Legoland on Sunday morning, I'd DEFINITELY be spending the day gurning my face inside out and feeling like my arms, legs and brain are weighed down with, and full of, gloopy glue and lump hammers whilst watching my Alan Partridge DVDs. I'd be sat on the sofa surrounded by those little plastic bags you fill drugs with and empty cans of 1664. An uneaten slice of strawberry jam on toast on the arm. Altern-8 CDs scattered all over my rug. A collection of Posthuman promos dancing hither and thither about my recent memory, and a desire to be wholesome again, like I was the day before.
What I'm trying to say is, if you choose to go to a theme park on Sunday morning (20 September) instead of going to watch Altern-8 - Full On Live Hysteria at Bloc on Saturday night (19 September), you're a proper fucking simpleton, like me.

Altern-8 are playing their first full live show in London since 1992 (although I'm sure I saw them at a Tiga album launch at The End in 2006, to be honest. I think they were on before Speculoos Dance Squad) and are also doing a DJ their masks! Luke Vibert and Jerome Hill are also on the bill, but I've not heard back from the I Love Acid press office as to whether or not they'll be wearing masks and all. Masks or not, I'm sure that Luke and Jerome will do a grand job of dropping soulful dance beats, large dance anthems and the odd broken house beat to a 450-strong crowd in Hackney who are all foaming at the mouth to see their rave heroes, Altern-8.

I won't be there, but don't let that stop you from buying a ticket for it.

Altern 8 - Full on Live Hysteria at Bloc (Autumn Street)
Speculoos Dance Squad. Remember them? Not 2Many people do. I thought they were fucking brilliant in 2006. They played things like Around The World, a Dolly Parton song and Windowlicker when I saw them at The End. I still remember sniffing up a load of poppers and watching my head disappear into the ceiling for a few seconds as Around The World clicked into gear. Great stuff. Actually, come to think of it, Speculoos Dance Squad was actually 2ManyDJs. Why they called themselves Speculoos Dance Squad that night, I'll never know because it was exactly like being at a club and listening to a 2ManyDJs set. It was a great laugh though. I wish I was 25 again.

I'm 34 now and I don't know how long I can go on writing about club nights that I'm not attending anymore, and music that I'm not actually listening to. I'm a fucking joke. Maybe getting my name in Private Eye is a suitable end for WRDM and Tonka. Even that sweet success was laced with a sour side-helping of sadness though, because it's not like I can get the press cutting framed or owt and show off to my family because none of them have a fucking clue who Tonka is. I'll go, "Alright, mom? Have a look at this. I'm in Private Eye!" and she'll go, "What the fucking hell's Private Eye?" And I'll go, "It's the best-selling news and current affairs magazine in the whole of England, you saft cunt!" And she'll go, "I've never fucking heard of it. Let's have a look. Where am ya?" And I'll point at the bit that Tonka and the Weekly Review of Dance Music is in and she'll go, "Who the fucking hell's Tonka? What the fucking hell is Weekly Review of Dance Music? Who the fucking hell is Thump when he's at home?"

That conversation will go on all afternoon and I'll get bored of trying to explain. Fuck it. I might as well carry on as I am, writing about dance music better than anyone else does, and for 100% less money than everyone else gets up and down the food chain. LOL. I love dance music, it's great.





A MASSIVE exposé into the murky world of ghost producers and those who use them

LOADS more Hilarious Lookalikes

LOADS more WRDMerchandise

LOADS more dance reviews and plugs for people in the dance world I like

LOADS more Weekly Review of Dance Music


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Name me a more on fleek producer and DJ than Perc in 2015...
..., apart from Ricky V. Name me a more on fleek producer and DJ, NOT including Ricardo Villalobos, than Perc at the moment. You can't, can you?

Ok, not including Heartthrob too, and Ricardo Villalobos. Apart from them two, who is more on fleek than Perc? Don't say Nicolas Jaar either. After Ricky V, Heartthrob and Nicolas Jaar, who is more on fleek than Perc these days?

No, as I thought; you can't name anyone more on fleek than Perc.

Perc makes music so hard that even DJs like Lisa Lashes and Billy "Daniel" Bunter won't play his stuff. His last album, The Power And The Glory, scored an almost unbelievable nine out of ten when reviewed on the world famous Weekly Review of Dance Music last year DESPITE having Frank off of Hellraiser on the album cover! Remarkably, The Power And The Glory was the last release by Perc on his own record label, Perc Trax (why? I don't know), but let me tell you this, ladies and gentlemen, he's recently come back to dance with a new three-track EP called, Gob.

When I was a kid in Walsall, gob meant spit. In gangsta rap parlance, to spit means to rap. Disappointingly, Perc does not rap on either the A side, Gob, or the two B tracks, Gruel and Change To Win. However, what you do get for your £7.00 (£2.50 for the digital version) is three doses of bespoke Hertfordshire hint, full on grey-mounted tech-blaze, UK frown house and a nice bit of traditional curdled weld noise from a DJ/producer who, at the moment, is more on fleek than anyone else around at the moment (in dance music), including Surgeon, Ben Klock, Richie Hawtin, Seth Troxler, Bleaching Agent, The Martinez Brothers and Magda.

Gob is absolutely fucking brilliant, and if I didn't have a mate who robs record shops with his brother, I'd DEFINITELY buy a copy for myself. If not for the tunes, for the cover art which depicts Perc as a grown man who eats rice pudding like a toddler.

Gob by Perc


I went to Phonica Records last week to see a DVD and album launch by Mr. G.

LOLoutLOUD. That sounds like the start of one of my cracking anecdotes on Tonka's Week, doesn't it? Anyway, I went along to Phonica after drinking a couple of pints of 1664 in a pub called The Ship. I always need a couple of straighteners before events like this because people always come up to me and say, "oh, are you Tonka? Go on, say something controversial..." If I turn up sober to events that I've been invited to because of WRDM or Tonka's Week, it's properly fucking horrible. The whole of the dance music world is fucking horrible UNLESS you're an innocent punter getting trollied on the dance floor to Ricky V or Perc. For the rest of us, it's an endless grin. A never-ending, "do you know so and so?", "I'm a mate of such and such" and "yeah, I'll probably go to that". It's fucking exhausting telling lies and bigging yourself up for hours. Do you know how many people I tell about the time I shared a platform with Terry Farley? I name-drop being mates with Tim Sheridan more times than he name-drops his actual celebrity friends. I'm getting tired of the grind now though. In Phonica Records last week, I said, "Private Eye", so often that the words lost their meaning!

(This track isn't on Night On The Town? but it's one of his recent ones and I couldn't find any previews anywhere of anything off of his new album)

This weird fucking world I skirt around is why I came away thinking that the DVD Mr. G projected onto the screen looked like someone had just taken a video of an iTunes Visualiser on their smart phone, but I walked around afterwards telling people that I thought it was great.

I remember thinking that the music really was great, but I'd drank so much 1664, Red Stripe and some of Mr. G's rum punch (that was 100% rum, no punch) that if you asked me to describe any of it now I'd laugh in your face and say, "I can't, mate. Sorry."

Night On The Town? by Mr. G
Album: 7/10
DVD: 10/10 (for the fucking cheek of actually trying to sell it)

Pre-order: FROM HERE NOW

I've been promising Martyn Hare some MASSIVE QUESTIONS to answer for weeks now, and I've been shit at writing them. I've written half of them but I keep getting waylaid. I'll try my best to finish them this week. I reckon that when I eventually do send them over, Martyn Hare will probably tell me to fuck off because he's already moved on mentally from the EP he's currently plugging! Premonitions came out on Monday and I've already listened to the Soundcloud previews about nine times.

- Why, Tonka?

- Because it's fucking brilliant.

Premonitions is four tracks of banging English dance music (three by Martyn Hare and one remix from the nicest man in American dance, Paul Birken) and if all four of them aren't played in a row by Ancient Methods down Corsica Studios for Plex, Bleed and Them on Friday 6 November, I'll eat Jamiroquai's hat!

I especially enjoyed the only known use of jingle bells in a techno song on the opener, Zero Tolerance. Please get in touch if there are any other instances of a seasonal instrument being used in a track designed to help you get absolutely fucking terminated in a nightclub.

Premonitions by Martyn Hare


There you go. Mr. G wins this week's Weekly Review of Dance Music for the DVD of his new album, Night On The Town? with a ten out of ten (!) for being mad enough to pay an Australian film maker God knows how much to stick an iTunes Visualiser over the top of his music. You need the eccentrics in the world, don't you? Makes life more interesting for the rest of us.

I'll be back next week with either MASSIVE QUESTIONS with Martyn Hare or a fake review of United Festival. I've been invited, but I can't make it to Finsbury Park this weekend. It looks fucking ace though: Oxide & Neutrino, 808 State, The Ratpack, Kenny Ken, Det, Bassman and the best looking lady DJ in the world for the eighteenth season in a row, Lisa Pin-Up are all playing amongst many, many, many others! There's fucking loads of DJs on, like how the old raves used to be. Remember? How they fitted everyone onto the same A5 flyer in the late 80s is beyond me.

United Festival is on Sunday 13 September at Finsbury Park. Buy tickets here or just turn up and tell them your name's Tonka. Any trouble getting in, contact me on social media and I'll sort the door out for you. I'm the nicest man in dance and I care about my readers. YOU.

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WRDM52 (Epilogue)

The Weekly Review of Dance Music is not just world famous anymore, it is now being read about and discussed on trains full of grumpy old businessmen and grumpy old businesswomen from London to Luton, and from Bournemouth to Bishopbriggs who read the best-selling news and current affairs magazine in the UK. Yes, the Weekly Review of Dance Music is now NATIONALLY famous.

- How, Tonka?

- Well, one week after those shit-for-brains knob-heads at Thump tried to make me look like a lemon (see the original WRDM52 and this), I read an article on Thump about DJs not getting paid (no way on earth I'm providing a link to it) and, I might be paranoid, but I'm 100% certain the bloke who wrote it (the same staffer I'd been dealing with, Josh Baines) was trolling me in a massive way in the opening paragraph. So, I grassed them up to Private Eye.

Photo credit: @williamwasteman
I'm properly bored of writing about these worms now, so next week I promise there'll be MASSIVE QUESTIONS with Martyn Hare...or some more reviews. I don't know yet.

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