PLEASURE-DRENCHING IMPROVERS - The Labour Party Conference Commemorative CD-R (2004; unreleased)
Hey! Drenno be Pignosin’ right here. To my self-inflating ears the album they’ve got going here is out the same cloth as Wreckin Trust, but this is, like, two years on and plus. Cause of that, you really get to feel how fluid they got now. Plezz-u is rampant on surface charges, she corrugates timbre with the lightness of touch of a R-Ali and the plum of Williams.
I’m sorry, but this is fucking astounding. Driddle lamping is D.I. like this comes of like when Bailey was loud-vaunting his fragile skits, what made you see he actually out-played all comers. Can I be so fluffy and ambitious as to claim Drench and Pleazsj as the most uncompromisingly non-idiomatic improvisors since Derek, and as such, thank fuck for all of us else that at least we have them! There won’t be another John Peel, after all. Not even I could do that.
Which brings us to the subject matter, right? Because who can have resuscitated Maggie’s cultural agenda so stealthily as Bleurgh?
PLP, right, is obviously all I’ve been writing to so far, but checkit: the space and time theez nutz can carve out for themselves now is astonishing. I love this level of clarity. What they are doing, you see, speaking as a experienced practitioner who dearly covets they moves, is managing to see with their 3rd eyes, effortlessly, a eagle’s overview of what they have set in motion. 12-minutes-in, we’ve been dropping our jaws while Dren-the-bandit Weberns his nuts loose, dropping out for a delicate solo off of Sonique-the-Charge-Hog which nods a compressed eternity: I love this pace-shifting space-grab! Having chopped the administration to confetti, Tee-Haitch-Eff unplugs the fuck’s line connector to-
The dialectic zest of this shit provides like the relief of greeting the longed-for application of charcoal phallus to the British queen (“Fuck right off, your lubricancy!”), mourning from the crouch. But the zealous dialectix of our lovely Pleasure-Drenching Improvers also scours foundational crud from the rosy-encrusted discharge of Labour’s collusion with the American obscene (incl. Fallujah itself just a low budget admin-directed sequel to collective performances of such utter depravity). Are we living in a proper word?
The duo’s sharded blunts of PLP were necessary: no one can shout loud enough to pierce the marshmallow pineae of luridly.
Can I be the arse to call this a symphony? Because for TUC, the boys again ruggour up the challenge for 4.54 more sweet minutes, both of them theming rather than riffing. Driggle-Mac gives us a more scrutinous look at his elements: the gorgeously-edged sustains, the Berg-Splaks and that reciprocal scrape-off he doubles with Moosey-Lynne. Not only that, he lifts them all deftly, part-part, and suspends them naughty for your savage voy to expect. Dunya’s mum prods as the dad’s over-heated rhetoric here: yes, he’s getting flushy and gushy, but don’t forget- Madame de P-D is Hindu-inflected – she slaps and bournes Drekk-n-Drekk’s baconed outbursts with actual grace, gymnasiated with rude clangers and lewdly-surfaced bangers! (Hidden amongst the Rashied of her ground-jip).
The Pleasure-Drenching Improvers are by far my most favourite group of music. I love all their albums at the same time as being able to objectively recognise in them astounding artistry and aesthetic focus. But this album, THE LABOUR PARTY CONFERENCE COMMEMORATIVE CD-R 2004 will be a current smash in my heart for a good while. Yes, it’s clearly marked and dragonly structured: in that way it’s straight-up Varese-meets-Enter-the-36-Wu-Tang. And I guess that makes it commercial, too, in that gritty blew-off-your-headphones-jack way that all classics ultimately are.
Jah Bless Pleh-Dren Imprs. By fuck, who would I be without this, in the end? And let us pray for all those who end up without this – which is most of you! Because it ain’t coming out. You need to go away and ask yourself if I really deserve this. I think I do, actually, because I love them and I work hard every day to follow their example, like some fucking zealot.
Get the fuck out of here!
You can buy this album, and others like it, from www.fenlandhibrow.co.uk
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