An extremely limited edition copy of Making Space, in a full colour gatefold cd sleeve. Your copy will be just 1 of 85 CDs that are available to the public and one of just 50 CDs that are available from Bandcamp. Choose the "Signed" option if you want me to write my name on it.
Includes unlimited streaming of Making Space
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
Sold Out
about
Do yourself a favour. Buy a good quality turntable, hit the streets and support your local second hand record store. You won't regret it.
lyrics
The dust makes my throat itch, I can't stop it
One more drop, the record shop's hot, dude's a prophet
at the counter, speaks in a loud voice and nasal tone
I'm at the decks with an old set of headphones
Between the caffeine and nicotine - a bitter mean -
I get a clean chop of the drop and can't quit the scene
It's feedng my neuroses, the collector, I'm a drug fiend
For deep breaks, cheap takes and drum machines
Every Saturday, I feel the promise,
The city breathes vinyl dust, stereophonics
from the sixties, where they split the drums,
To one side of the mix and let the keys just run
Now press it to the wax. Now I dig the stacks.
But not matter how I mine, I keep finding tracks,
I've never heard and clever words penned by no ones.
And spend my loose change to arrange them so some,
New ears will hear nod their head and show props
I resurrect the dead when I tread through those shops.
Every extraction brings a new flow bop,
From the groove to the groove, choose the loops - you know what?
We dig, we dug,
For the peaks and subs,
From the streets we dub
And we speak the love
For the dusty crates and acetate
You can't call it theft if we aim to create. x 2
The first plastic I ever hacked tracks and slapped with
Some drums was a scratched up copy of Brothers in Arms.
It sounded shit and the kick it clipped
But equipped with some knowledge I was collared and quick
To trip down those laneways - east coast city -
Looking for a bass line, chasing horns; them pretty
Girls can't compare to strings that sing
And if the snare drum rings (man I love them things)
It's the universal unifier - no art is higher!
Than snatching parts from four artists and making fire
I'd be a liar if I said I could quit it.
The black resins in my veins and it's plain I'm addicted.
Vision's constricted, look for dates and years,
Sixty five to seventies, if it's jazz I take heavily.
Coz the progressions be elaborate
And if it's Cannonball Adderley, you know I be grabbing it.
We dig, we dug,
For the peaks and subs,
From the streets we dub
And we speak the love
For the dusty crates and acetate
You can't call it theft if we aim to create. x 2
credits
from Making Space,
released October 31, 2012
Written, produced and performed by FG
FG is a Bendigo-based, Melbourne-born producer and emcee. In the past he has produced and rapped on a number of albums with
the likes of The Funkoars, Muphin, Draino, Terra Firma and Crixus. He can usually be found haunting dusty old record shops muttering "Need more breaks."
FG is one of a few people to be featured on both seminal oz hip hop releases, Culture of Kings 1 and 2....more
Ourobonic Plague has turned b-grade scifi soundtrack music into an artform. Dark, gloomy and utterly inspired. Proof that dark music is not depressing. FG
One of the most diverse and interesting producer/emcees that Perth has to offer. Unique (dope) beats and deep reflection upon humanity in the computer age. FG
