Sub sloganul „WE LOVE (Somebody else)” pe Prima TV, emisiunea „Trădaţi din dragoste” aduce în faţa televizoarelor pe toţi aceea care, îngrădiţi de o viată monotonă, centrată pe muncă urmată de mica cutiuţă cu entertaiment,.simt acea plăcere descătuşătoare : Băi, ce i-a zis-o, mama ei de zdreanţă. E o formă de patetism, de distracţie ieftină, dar şi cu o calitate pe măsură. Lăsând la o parte latura morală, pe care o voi detalia mai jos, după părerea mea e chiar jenant să cauţi şi mai ales să obţii plăcere vizionând astfel de emisiuni.

Însă „ideea” nu e de la noi. Emisiunea este copiată (da, acesta este termenul) după Cheaters . Exact ca şi fratele de peste ocean, emisiunea urmează aceeaşi paşi:

1. El si ea erau doi porumbei. S-au plăcut din Prima, a urmat apoi o idilă frumoasă, plină de clipe de neuitat.

2. De la o vreme, parcă ea se comportă ciudat. Nu mai răspunde întotdeauna la telefoane, e evazivă în relaţia lor, pleacă de multe ori de acasă fără să spună unde, iar dacă e sunată găseşte repede scuza că e la o prietenă, care săraca, deprimată fiind, are nevoie de un umăr pe care să plângă. Asta în timp ce el, masculul, face bani fiind mai mereu plecat. Parcă nici sexul nu mai era ce a fost. Adică nu mai e.

3. Îngrijorat din cale afară de comportamentul iubitei, dar si un pic suspicios, el se hotărăşte să apeleze la Ernest & Co.

4. Prima zi de filare. Nici un rezultat.

5. A doua zi. Nimic.

…

10. Suspecta ( J ) este văzută în compania unui alt bărbat – îi voim zice Antonio - ( mai bine făcut, dar fără maşina ). Cei doi se întâlnesc, ea îi cumpără o îngheţată, termină îngheţata şi apoi se sărută pasional.

11. Suspectul intră în blocul unde locuieşte ea. Trece o jumătate de oră. Trece o oră. Antonio şi ea ies fumând. Ea nu e fumătoare.

12. E evident ce se întâmplă. El vede caseta: - Curva naibii, după câte am făcut pentru ea!!!! Şi ce o iubeam, ce o iubeam Doamne şi ea ticăloasa. Nenorocita. Mizerabila. Nemerica. Bip. Bip. Bip măsii. Ernest: - Acum ea este cu el. Vrei să mergem pentru o confruntare? (Întrebare retorică). El: Of course.

13. Detectivii, 20 de gărzi de corp, Ernest (the One) şi el. În parc, ea, Antonio şi o bancă formau un întreg. El fuge spre Antonio: Băh Bip Bip Bip. Te omor măh. Jbang, apucă să-i aplice un metatarsian. Intervin bodyguardzii.

14. Fuge spre ea: Ce faci fă aici cu ăsta? Cine e playboy-ul ăsta fă ? (Urmează o serie de bip-uri, în care el îşi exprimă anumite gânduri despre jumătate din arborele genealogic al ei, urmat de păreri pertinente despre anumite părţi ale corpului lui şi al ei). Cu el mă înşeli? De ce? De ce? Pentru ce?

15. Ea: Pentru că el mă face fericită, doar Antonito meu. În acest timp, Antonito a fugit la mămica. Ea: Tu eşti tot timpul plecat, nu eşti lângă mine, mă ignori, iar eu ca femeie am nevoi, nevoi pe care Antonito mi le-a satisfăcut. Ernest, calm as usual: Explică-mi te rog motivele pentru care l-ai înşelat pe el? Ea: De aia!

16. Toţi pleacă. Ernest către el: O vei mai ierta vreodată? El : Nu, în veci. Greşit, o va ierta. Bărbaţii-s fraieri. Tare fraieri.

17. Ernest: În emisiunea viitoare, încă un cuplu pe cale să se destrame. Până atunci, fiţi fideli.

Aspectul moral. Moralitatea e în mintea fiecăruia un concept diferit. Ce pentru unii li se pare în regulă, pe alţii îi dezgustă profund. La fel e şi cu această emisiune. Pot exista păreri pro dar şi contra. În opinia mea a-ţi înşela partenerul e dovada cea mai puternică a laşităţii, fuga de adevăr, asumarea propriilor sentimente şi comunicarea deschisă a acestora. Cel ce înşeală e un om slab, care nu mai merită aprecierea celui înşelat. Cu toate acestea, a dezvălui viaţa privată a celor implicaţi pe un post de televiziune, în faţa altor mii de oameni e o încălcare gravă a dreptului la intimitate. Şi chiar şi fraierii care înşeală au acest drept.

Până la urmă telespectatorii decid. Dacă emisiunea are rating, va continua, dacă nu, se va opri. Iar Ernest va merge în „Casă”.

Articol participant la SuperBlog 2008.

Petite nouvelle, je viens de recevoir ce matin l'annonce pour la vente We love.com et là que vois je...une vente Jack Henry et une vente Heimstone...dépechez vous il y a déjà des articles épuisés...les prix sont divisés par 2 minimum!! la vente a lieu entre aujourd'hui et le 7 octobre!

J'ai déjà un sac Jack Henry offert par ma chère Aurélie que j'adore et que j'utilise tous le temps!!

le sac écru est à 195 au lieu de 400, le premier est à 225 euro au lieu de 445, et le deuxième est à 290 au lieu de 295!! lequel vous préferez?? moi c'est le premier et connaissant la qualité de Jack Henry je suis sure que le cuir est génial!

la grise est à 120 euro au lieu de 310, et les autres sont à 205 euro au lieu de 500 (bon d'accord ça reste cher..mais pour celles qui veulent vraiment se faire plaisir!!)

Our favorite shoe store (pretty much ever) is Edon Manor in TriBeCa. We love going by each time we're in NY to check out their premier collections, especially Givenchy, Azzedine Alaïa, and Rupert Sanderson—the latter of which we'll have in store this fall (most likely, November).

Sim! Sammy está de volta com dicas quentíssimas de Ibiza 2008. Atenção às novas regras: afters estão totalmente proibidos, mas as festinhas diurnas nunca tiveram tanta vida (elas começam às 4:30 da tarde). WE LOVE SUNDAYS é a festa mais divertida da Space e trouxemos um pedacinho do que pode chegar a ser esse começo de semana na ilha mágica. Postaremos mais novidades cada dia, para aqueles que estão indo e para aqueles que AMAM mas que, infelizmente, não podem estar por aqui neste verão. Continuem ligados no Soma!

Yet, through their graceful personalities anywhere these birds decide to land becomes sacred, untouchable and protected by law. So maybe grace is our problem?

Throughout the history of this Island it is the people who have come here that have created its legacy and mystery. Sure the views of wonder and the enchantment of leylines et al have caught the imagination but from the likes of Nostradamus to the rock & roll icons of the 60’s to the acid house pioneers of the late 80’s it is the counter culture who have always made Ibiza the magical place that it is.

Every season people come and go, but if you’re like me there will be certain people who make Ibiza what it is to you, who carved the place in your heart where you keep all things magical, all things Ibiza.

So what becomes of Ibiza when these characters cease returning? The ideology & the incessant re-evaluation of the infrastructure would suggest that it will become the playground for the rich and pandered. Pipe-nightmare and ill-considered on two main accounts.

Yes, there is a lot more money than there once was, and why? Because of the exorbitant bleeding of counter culture who have so willingly provided the Island with it’s life-blood of finance and personality. Even the wealth that arrives on the Island in high season is ear marked as the changing and more respectable face of tourism, bollocks. The majority of these are just kids grown up, done well and return yearly in better fashion that the last. Sure where once their night out consisted of a carry-out on the beach before hitting space they can now afford to have an afternoon on a boat before enjoying the space of VIP.

The rest of the money? The famous faces and the royalty, they’ve always been coming. But they won’t always will. Not when the faces of the underground disappear and the Island ceases to provide them with their underground weekend vibeing with the normal people. That’s what they seek when they come to Ibiza, the crowds that come here don’t care if you’re royalty or just royally, it’s the way it’s always been.

So just down the road from our hallowed flamingo’s the godless bunch who attend Circo Loco religiously every Monday are told their sacred ground is a taint and a sleight on the face of the Island yet again. Promoter, Andreas has iterated that the time for reasoning has been attempted and passed unsuccessfully and now he’s going to fight. Good on him, you have to respect his loyalty to the venue and strong will, but you still get the impression it’s a battle that will ultimately be lost.

What’s more incredible that in the same week hippy haunt Kumharas has been effectively shut down due to the explicit and allowed use of drugs on the site. Read, an Ibizan institution that turned a blind eye to people smoking dope on a beach that they have been doing long before the frantic over-development of the surrounding land with eye-sore and now dilapidating hotels. It was one of the few places in the bay of San Antonio that actually still held onto the Balearic aesthetics that make this island what it is. The whole thing would be amusing if it wasn’t so infuriating.

I’m upsetting myself, so much for the chill-out centre of the world.

The good news is that there is still much to make this Island paradise, let’s get on with enjoying it while we can.

Last Friday’s opening of Manumission at their new home of Amnesia was pretty impressive. Amnesia have really pushed the boat out to welcome their new bed-fellows. The entire terrace being re-designed to accommodate the famous manumission show and required stage. Coney Island review? Think muscle bound sailors and freaky rope bound contorting ladies. Whatever floats your boat. Tune wise for the opening the had Mylo on board and judging by his state at We Love… a few days later it appears the Manumission crew were certainly looking after his needs. A good night all in, and I think a good move, the club holds a lot more intimacy than the hanger like Privilege.

As Sunday with the sun beating hard, I eased my way into the day with a few terrace coronas at home before getting down to Space for 5pm. The club was experiencing a slow start, with only 300 or so at a guess sprinkle throughout. My 1 st couple of hours were spent on the sunset terrace where Tony Haze managed to turn a sparse dancefloor into a full on by 1830. Jem Haynes re-rub of Where Love lives being a standout in a set of electronic party house with a nod to the Acid House days. Next up was Jason Bye who picked where he left off last week rolling out his techier sound to a now throbbing dancefloor.

A quick nip through to the Terraza to hear the start of the Streetlife DJs crashing out their electro sound and I was off. I had a football match to watch. Upon hitting the bars around Bossa it was obvious to see why the club was experiencing the slow start that it was, every singly bar was rammed to spilling point for the Span Italy quarter-final. A total let down as far as football matches go but as the final penalty was scored the Island erupted to the sound of blazing car horns which was to last right through to the morning. While the Italian contingent seemed to slope off into the night.

Back at Space to catch Tom Cagedbaby and his masterful control of ableton. By now the terrace was throbbing and when the man dropped his re-edit of Human League’s, do or die, my night had really begun.

On the sunset terrace, Alfredo playing his 1 st set there of the summer also had the room in raptures, the room bouncing to his classic house, and him too, not bad for a 55 year old!

By the time the sunset terrace had closed Tiefschwarz were already in their digital groove, one of only 3 shows this year but totally up for it they seemed, neither of the brother leaving each other sides for the 3 hour set which rolled along with masterful control.

Up on the premier etage things were quieting down to a permissible level after Scott Martin and Jon Howells earlier excursions. Jon, a new weekly resident this year, is a interesting sort to say the least, and he definitely knows his music, more on him later in the summer, as for me tonight was all about the Ed Banger crew, and more specifically A-Trak, the former DMC champ but now boa fide electro convert.

Serge Santiago had the discoteca positively charged with his nu-italo sound, hard to describe, but it’s like the bastard lovechild of the melodies that go with the italo genre with woolford style electronic tech. Bloody good stuff and a man that is more and more coming into his own.

At 2am Busy P stepped up to get the Ed Banger Ball rolling with a raucous intro and dived straight into the French sound crash before making way for A-trak and his final scratch plates. There wasn’t maybe enough of his turntablism skills on display that I’d hoped for but there certainly he certainly wasn’t lacking any ammunition of pounding disco fury. After Mehdi brought the night far too quickly towards 6am A-Trak stepped up to close with a cacophony of electronic noise and a battered and bruised floor showed their appreciation.

I was spent. Talk about taking liberties,

A N Other We Lover

When you hold affections such that you yearn for a time or a place to return to you put yourself in grave danger of committing the sin of wishing your life away.

Easily done when you spend 16 weeks basking in the sunshine, dancing from club to club, with friends that you never spend enough time with. The other 36 are not entirely a different matter. My last correspondence seemed to end somewhat abruptly having fished one of said friends from certain doom, and although we both survived that particular episode, the writing was on the wall. It was time to go.

Arriving back in London was not as dispiriting as one might have thought, with what seemed the dancefloor of the Discoteca joining me on my first few forays in into its underbelly, namely the annual depress-fest that is the Fabric birthday and We Love’s Halloween Ball with fellow furtlers, Mulletover.

Fabric, as a club, I hold nearly as dearly as Space, however the yearly conversations I must suffer at his soiree are demoralizing, and for added pleasure this year…you can’t even smoke while some near stranger derrises your life choices. Fuck 'em all, let God sort ‘em out, He’s got a habit for things like that.

We Love…Mulletover was a different event entirely, mainly because the majority of the crowd were in the same boat as me. However the pleasure in the reunion was only in part the success. The warehouse at the Kings Cross Goods yard (RIP) was a perfect party palace, found only too late by myself and the promoters who rinsed its dubious licensing for its last few months. Rocking out to Alfredo and Jem, in the We Love arch then an old school Geddes polishing off my night was the homecoming I was sorely hoping for.

The rest of the eight months I behaved similarly to the majority of you lot. Getting my head down when required and getting out of it with the same decree. Fleeting trips to Asia and the odd European adventure but still I was wishing my life away.

Ibiza 2008, was it really going to be the year the music died, no more villa parties, clubs being shut down, silent disco, Hierbas been banned blah, blah blah. I’ve always found myself to be blessed or stupid enough to dance in an empty room. So a little less skipping-time inside a club at the height of the afternoon’s sun isn’t going to dampen my passion, nor yours I imagine. Granted DC-10’s dusty dancing will be missed, but the truth is I rarely made most of the day events before five in the afternoon anyway, so, I shall roll with the punches as long as I’m standing.

Things change, that’s life, and you can’t deny it. Nor would you want to. Some things however mature than change.

We Love…Space, 5pm, the usual time I arrive, btw, and We Love…is definitely open for business. Andy Baxter, Island legend but We Love…new boy was building the Sunset Terrace like he’d been doing it all his life.

With the whole of the club, barring the Discoteca, open by 6pm the club really felt like it was starting to swell. The huge Terraza, marshalled by Elio Riso was taking a little longer than most as Spencer Parker; another debutant took the reigns to fill the room. Spencer, playing his trademark deep tech house, was obviously pulling out all he could to fill the room. To be honest, the new opening times I think confused a large proportion, unsure as to when to start the party proper, fyi, I think it was 7:30pm when the club stated to rock and throb as it does. A quick return to Passion for a beer confirmed this as I witnessed the soon to be familiar site of the swarms descending on the car park.

On my return, Jason Bye had just begun his season in style, playing a noticeably different style on the sunset terrace to last year, a theme that was to be confirmed the rest of the night. The usual high jinx on the sunset terrace had given way to more serious techy affair. Good call from the acts, particularly Tom Novy and Bye as the crowd were loving it.

On the terrace Smokin’ Jo had followed from Spencer, stepping up a few gears with her brand of bleepery. By now the terrace was definitely packed, however I was definitely sober, the two never quite mix.

After my weekly sabbatical to Bella Napoli it was time to get down to business. Paul Woolford, this year’s new weekly resident and brand spanker has been a busy man. Over the winter he’s released his album on 2020, provided one of the mixes for the new We Love...cd and followed in footsteps of David Guetta with his own brand of hair product, Wool-Wax, available in all bad salons, now. With a bag full of re-edits, and on this evidence, Paul’s going to have quite the summer. He provides a genuine energy when he’s playing that comes not just from the tunes he plays but the man himself.

Time was quickening as was my pace. After not seeing everybody for so long you want to see them all in the 1 st week. Riton wasn’t for hanging about, I’m not sure the boy does warm-up, but I suppose neither would I if I had the array of acid-buggery he possesses.

What was to follow took my breath away, after delving into the deepness of Ben Watt on the Terraza; I made my back to the Discoteca for DJ Pierre.

I’m no veteran, however my first forays into acid house were with Pierre at the controls, and some of the 1 st records I bought were produce by the man, so it was with some affection and a little trepidation that I made my to the Discoteca floor. However, I should have feared not, this was no retro, sure there were the classics thrown in but Acid House like this is timeless, I’m sure I wasn’t alone in my reverie as the room was charged as it only it can be. Mind-blowing, well done the man.

Next up stepped the Zombie-Blaster, Felix to take the night home, however he was going to rush it. I jumped back to the terrace to catch the sonic hotpot that 2ManyDjjs throw their kitchen sink at the packed crowd before stepping back to hear Felix close the room stinking of teen spirit. A quick night cap at Ocean Drive and the day & night was done.

It’s good to be back...

A N Other We Lover

เคยเป็นกันไหมครับ เวลาที่เราชอบอะไรสักอย่างหนึ่ง เราก็จะพยายามหาข้อมูลเพื่อที่จะเรียนรู้มันให้มากที่สุด หนึ่งในวิธีการของผมก็คือการหาข้อมูลทาง net นี่ล่ะ

วันที่ผมสนใจเรื่องของ LOMO ผมก็ใช้วิธีการแบบข้างบนนั้น website www.welovesnap.com ก็เป็นอีกที่หนึ่งที่ซุ่มอ่าน webboard ของเขาอยู่นาน และก็ไม่ได้ลงทะเบียนเป็นสมาชิกของเขาเสียด้วย จนเมื่อไม่นานนี้มีการประกาศว่า จะมีกิจกรรมการ workshop เพื่อให้เข้าใจวิธีการใช้งานกล้องต่างๆ ไม่ว่าจะเป็น แอลซีเอ โฮลก้า ไดอาน่า ฟิชอาย ซุปเปอร์แซมเปอร์ คัลเลอร์สแปลช ฯลฯ โดยรับแค่ 40 คนที่สำคัญฟรี แถมยังมีการแจกของรางวัลกันอีกด้วย ..ไม่รอช้าครับ ผมรีบลงทะเบียนจองไปเลยทันที

และวันนี้(อาทิตย์)ก็มาถึง 9 โมงเช้านัดเจอกันที่โลหะปราสาท วัดราชนัดดารามวรวิหาร อาวุธที่เตรียมไปก็มี Nikon F70, LCA+ และ HOLGA 120CFN พร้อมฟิล์มอีกประมาณ 5 ม้วน ตอนที่ผมไปถึงทุกคนเริ่มมากันเยอะแล้ว พอเซ็นชื่อลงทะเบียนเรียบร้อย ผมก็มายืนหัวโด่เด่ (เพราะมาคนเดียวแถมยังไม่รู้จักใครอีก) มองไปรอบๆ รู้สึกเหมือนตัวเองเพิ่งย้ายโรงเรียนมาใหม่ เห็นพี่คนนั้นน้องคนนี้คุยกันสนุกสนาน เราเลยทำเป็นเนียนเข้าไปนั่งอยู่แถวนั้นบ้างเผื่ออะไรๆจะดีขึ้น

ไม่นานก็มีการเรียกรวมทุกคนมานั่งฟังถึงสิ่งที่เราจะสนุกกันในวันนี้ ผมคะเนเอาจากสายตาของผมคิดว่าทั้งหมดน่าจะประมาณ 60 คน STAFF แต่ละคนที่มาพูดอธิบายกล้องแต่ละรุ่นว่าใช้งานยังไงก็ตลกฮาเฮมากครับ สอนกันไปไม่ทันไรก็มีการแจก Film ให้ด้วย เสียดายยกมือไม่ทันเลยอดได้กะเขา

ก่อนที่เราจะออกไปถ่ายรูปกัน ก็มีการจับฉลากแบ่งกลุ่มออกเป็น 6 กลุ่มแต่ละกลุ่มก็จะมี STAFF คอยดูแล TAKE CARE กันไปสิ่งสำคัญที่ย้ำเป็นพิเศษเห็นจะเป็นเรื่องที่เราควรจะเดินให้ห่างจาก MOB ที่กำลังเย๊วๆ กันอยู่ไม่ไกล เพราะอาจโดนลูกหลงเป็นของแถมได้

ผมจับฉลากได้กลุ่ม 1 มีพี่ตาร์ท พี่บอยและทีมงานมาคอยดูแล แต่ยังไม่ทันจะเริ่มเดิน พี่ตาร์ทก็บอกพวกเราว่าหาข้าวกินก่อนดีกว่า ผมเห็นพี่ก็ดูจะอิดโรยเล็กน้อย กว่าจะเดินไปถึงร้านข้าวแถวเสาชิงช้าได้ก็พักใหญ่เลยเชียว โชคดีที่พี่ยังไม่เป็นลมไปซะก่อน

หม่ำข้าวหน้าเป็ดไปเรียบร้อย พวกเราก็เดินลัดเลาะไปตามซอกซอยต่างๆ จากเสาชิงช้าไป โผล่แถวแพร่งภูธร ต่อไปแถววัดพระแก้ว แล้วก็นั่งเรือข้ามฟากไปนั่งกินลมชมวิวที่ร้านสุ่มสี่สุ่มห้าสบายใจเฉิบ มาถึงตอนนี้พวกเราเริ่มสนิทกันมากขึ้น คุยกันมากขึ้น สนุกกันมากขึ้น เพราะพี่ๆกินเบียร์กันมากขึ้นนั่นเอง

นั่งเล่นกันอยู่พักใหญ่ กลุ่มอื่นก็ตามมาสมทบด้วย จากนั้นเราก็เลยติดสินใจไปถ่ายรูปที่พิพิธภัณฑ์สยาม ซึ่งอยู่ตรงกระทรวงพานิชย์(เดิม) เขาจัดแสดงความเป็นมาของสยาม ตั้งแต่อดีตถึงปัจจุบัน ว่างๆก็ลองไปดูสิครับ ผมว่าเขาทำได้น่าสนใจดี เสียดายที่มีเวลาไม่นาน ก็เลยรีบเดินเข้าห้องนั้นออกห้องนี้ จนไม่ได้อ่านรายละเอียดต่างๆที่เขาจัดแสดงเอาไว้

ประมาณหกโมงเย็น พวกเราก็กลับไปรวมตัวกันที่สวนสันติปราการ พี่ตาร์ท พี่บอยก็พูดสรุปถึงสิ่งต่างๆในวันนี้ สำหรับผมแล้ววันนี้มันสนุกมากครับ รูปที่ผมถ่ายไปวันนี้ ก็คงทำได้เพียงเก็บอารมณ์และความรู้สึกที่มีในวันนี้เอาไว้ ที่สำคัญที่สุดที่ผมคิดว่ามันมากกว่าการถ่ายภาพก็คือ"มิตรภาพ"ครับ ขอบคุณพี่บอยสำหรับฟิล์มสไลด์ที่หายากเอามากๆ พี่ก็ยังให้ผมมาฟรีๆ ขอบคุณพี่ตาร์ดที่ทำให้ฮาได้เรื่อยๆ (ยังฮาได้อีกนะพี่) ขอบคุณภาพสวยๆจากคุณ KWANZ ครับ ขอบคุณ we love snap อยากให้มีกิจกรรมทุกเดือนเลยครับ สนุกดี ..ขอบคุณครับ

[dailymotion id=x4telk&v3=1&related=1]

Heute nacht gibt es auf Pro7 das We love - in Concert mit Udo Lindenberg und Freunden ..u.a. Jan Delay , Helge Schneider u.v.m.

Also 1.10 Uhr auf Pro7 ....einschalten :)

 Here's the 'very sorry song'

Won't you help and sing along?

Bum bum bum 

I blew it! 

He's sorry 

I knew it! 

So sorry 

I'm very very sorry that I took your precious flaaggg! 

Just don't do it any more, you scurvy scalawaagg!

- Calvin and Hobbes, "The Very Sorry Song"

So I fucked up, and totally neglected this for three months. To be fair, I often thought about  updating (not as much as I thought about Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch's "Good Vibrations"), but I was living it up in Prague. We'll get to that at some point, but for now, here's my gift to you: my 50 favorite songs of 2007 (as of today, because it'll probably change every week or so.) 

 The songs are all available to download, so think of it as my personal mixtape to you. And whoever else downloads it.  

50. Jurgen Paape + Boy Schaufler- We Love 

(Motivo Productions)       

There’s something very restrained and soothing, with the minimalist lyrics and synth reminiscent of Orbital’s “Chime.” I always imagine this as a song that I would be enjoying from the sidelines at a club, catching a dancing girl’s eyes and mouthing to her, “Good track. I am enjoying this.” She likely diverts her attention elsewhere after this encounter. Oh, we love.

49. Beirut- Forks and Knives (La Fête)

(4AD) 

            Sounds hella French. Like, this should replace the first song from Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast.”

48. Groove Armada fea. Mutya Buena- Song 4 Mutya (Out of Control)

(Columbia) 

            So say you’re in a car, you’re feeling on top of the world, and your ex pulls up next to you. Your first inclination is to panic and let this ruin your day. I mean, just as you’re on top of your life, there homeboy is again. But really, just don’t react and look ahead. I know that’s what Mutya Buena (with the help of Groove Armada) would do, and damned if you don’t listen to her advice.

47. Tenniscoats- Baibaba Bimba

(Hapna) 

            I have no clue what the lead singer’s saying, and while I'd like to hedge my bet that she’s singing in Japanese since Tenniscoats from Nippon, I have this overwhelming feeling it’s just gibberish. If so, anyone who knows me knows that I love babytalk in songs, and it helps that this tune is cuter than a 365-day calendar of Zooey Deschanel.           

46. Charlie Wilson- Charlie, Last Name Wilson

(Jive) 

            One of the best choruses of the year, as it’s literally Charlie Wilson’s pickup of a girl, a pickup line so earnest and formal that it’s nearly impossible to not appreciate. The clincher is the last minute of the song when Charlie loses his cool and starts cranking with his pipes lines such as “girl, I got a big old house” and pleads for her to pick up the phone and call him. Hell, he gives the girl his manager’s number, his studio’s number, even his mama’s number. What I marvel at is the fact that Uncle Charlie could even be single at this point, a talent of his magnitude still looking for love in his 60s. Of course, after this song, he should never again have any trouble picking up ladies. Don’t forget, the name is Charlie.

45. Pantha du Prince- Saturn Strobe

(Dial) 

            This is the kind of techno that would sound ace in a car commercial. I guess that doesn’t sound like a compliment, but it would sell me a Kia or two.

44. Ghostface Killah fea. Method Man and Raekwon- Yolanda’s House

(Def Jam) 

            While part of me wanted the obligatory Ghostface pick to be “Supa GFK,” if only for him finishing the song by chanting “Momma gotta big butt, momma got a big butt,” I have to give it to this, on account to his near-perfect attention to detail. It makes me so content to hear him go from talking about eating fishsticks while a girl puts on lipstick to him barging into another room to see Method Man with his “balls out” getting it on. As heard before from Jadakiss on “Run,” working with the Wallaby Champ can lead to some great asthma-related punchlines, and Meth doesn’t disappoint, as he chastises Ghost for laughing at his asthmatic hook-up. Man, I just want to kick it with these guys.

43. Iron & Wine- Carousel

(Sub Pop) 

            Something just incredibly pretty about this, it’s purely a nice tune that feels, perhaps due to the warbled vocals, like it washed up on the riverbank. The singer rambles on about crackheads and Persian rugs, narrowly avoiding triteness (unlike any of these best songs captions) and we all luck out because it’s sheer dream-like feel can’t be denied. Let’s get this on the Garden State II soundtrack.

42. Hot Chip- My Piano

(Studio !K7) 

            An extremely catchy chorus fuels what is a lesser but easily more fun song than Hot Chip’s “Boy From School,” which seems to be the indie synth-pop equivalent to a TBS New Classic.

41. Girls Aloud- Can’t Speak French    

(Universal)      

            It once was hip to love Girls Aloud as a choice manufactured pop group, but I think that changed once Stylus closed its proverbial doors. I’m not sure, yet I still think they put out another song that amazes me, not only by how catchy it is, but also by how interesting it is compared to it’s other chart-topping buddies on the UK pop charts. While not quite the treasure “Biology” or “The Show” each were, “Can’t Speak French” succeeds in once again eschewing most modern pop trends and being master-crafted. All I know is that with this airy, indefinable gem, Girls Aloud has now had one of my favorite pop songs for three of the past four years, and that’s not because anyone else told me it was hip to. I mean, I only read Spin anyways. 

The list has only just begun. There's forty more to come, and you won't have to wait three months to see the rest (probably only two and a half.)

Drew R. 

Admittedly I have been somewhat elusive over these past few weeks; however my friends and colleagues alike seem to cast illusions of me merely shirking their attempts at communication where in fact I have been undercover diving deep into the murky depths of our glorious underworld, risking sanity and major organ malfunction all in the name of research.

It all started shortly after my last correspondence, 2 very good friends had announced they would be joining me for some frolications as the closing parties were about to begin in earnest, in order to protect their identity and infer their innocence their names have been changed,

Friday 7^th September 2007-10-27 

And so it was, with the arrival of Pablo and Howard, two of my very bestest friends had seen fit to come and assist me with my coverage of the final weeks of my summer of malcontent. Myself, Pablo and Howard go way back, having forged a strong bond in our adolescence it became so that in my homeland we were rarely seen socialising apart, and while fate forces it’s hand upon many relationships the power of times tide done little for our appreciation of each other. While all certainly cut from different cloth there was always an immense feeling of invincibility when the three amigo’s ventured into the underbelly of society.

Pablo, with his ease in unknown company could start a party in an empty room, and often had, was not without his frailties, often akin to accusations of aloofness to the point of banal intensity, and not being the suavest of individuals wore a forlorn look often appropriated with stroke victims, but he was  someone I kept close to my heart. While Howard a much more introverted soul, would always be there for during the bad times and the diabolical.

What better place to meet my platoon, than as the sun was setting upon a glistening ocean outside the Cade del Mar, often derided for its Bavarian friendly barkeeps, and disregard for anything not draped in white linen, this legend needs to be allowed some warranted distaste for anything which it distastes. After 25 years this bastion of chillout must have some amount of detest for the mass market it has helped produce, like all pioneers. However it is still setting the standards where other bargain basement comps will surely follow in a year or so. Myself and Howard were more than happy here in our tranquil surroundings, but after what seemed like an age, Pablo reappeared announcing there would be no need for dinner tonight as he had just had dessert.

Being his edgy self, Pablo was somewhat opposed to the idea of venturing any further than was absolutely necessary, and while he will never have any complaints from Howard when it comes to pushing boats, we retired to the sanctity of the villa to consider our imminent futures….We Love…to transgress.

Sunday 9th September 2007

The initial 2 days of their retreat had passed without serious incident, much to my surprise and relief, but this was Sunday, this was where legends were made and souls broken, what with it being a special Sunday, it was decided in advance that an early start would be required and the necessary breakfasts were consumed, so much so that we were not to far behind the all-nighters who were filing in as we arrived for Vitalik's Sunday morning minimal manoeuvres. Ryan O'Gorman was on duty in the discoteca, as we chased our contemporaries' early morning inebriation attempts, I was struck by the feeling that many of them were trying to heal last nights pain, where contrary we were attempting to inflict tonight’s. The operation was a resounding success, and after an ill-informed trip to the aguamar, where we flumed like day releases the euphoria of shooting down winding half-cut pipes can only be countered by the despair of the same water shooting through your already obliterated sinuses. Pablo was having none of it and demanded a return to a more adult playground, where he could continue to act like a child.

After a quick change in the communal area provided (apologies to that large family form Bradford) the bags were slung in to the car and we were back at the bar on the sunset terrace as Oscar Colorado threw down his set. Unfortunately, I've found that the only exciting thing about this man is his name, the first time I heard it I had preconceptions of an amazing cowboy Muppet, not that they were completed unfounded, so I suggested what I always do in these situations, vamos la premier etage.

Time and again I've soap-boxed about this little gem, and it was here that we chilled as the day got cooler listening to some deep house on the roof terrace on a lazy Sunday afternoon. We Love...the Small Faces.

Again while Howard couldn't have been more content, Pablo was again getting ancy. He iterated that he came for some sweaty action, and while I suggested that I would do all I could to make his holiday memorable there was a line I wasn't prepared to cross for no man.

Thankfully we came to an accord as Smokin' Jo was now getting the terraza steamy so we enveloped ourselves in the masses as we came up to her funkin tech house workout. as the night tore on I recall thinking how well everyone was getting on, especially with my new friends, Pablo was an exceptional popular, but he's always been like that, to a point where we were literally quaffing some strange woman’s champagne in the vip, she didn't even seem to mind as long as she had Pablo’s attention.

Not one to stay to long in such environs I headed to the discoteca to catch Ben Korbel ripping it up. The Sounds man, was certainly living up to his branding as he incorporated the trancey-synths that have become synonymous with this years driving prog-tech sound, all good for another, suggested Howard, and off we went again, back to rescue Pablo from the claws of cruella.

All this as Hot Chip were taking over the reigns of the terraza, this being their first exploits on the island was going to make things interesting. Playing a more up-tempo version of their electro to an almost techno beat the crowd lapped it as they rocked through their set. I was in the mood now and going nowhere, but for the bar and back to my spot. Ben Watt had by now taken over the booth and with it the crowd cementing the legacy that he left for us a few months before.

Now excuse my professional indifference but the next thing I can clearly recall is me telling Pablo that champagne doesn't make you float as I attempted to retrieve him from the pool.

We Love...unconsciousness

Tuesday 9^th September

The torturous soul-searching that follows such sessions cloaked my Monday as if it was one of the storms that are often associated with this time of the season but as the sun  broke through the villa on Tuesday morning I felt my demons rescind with it.

Pablo’s courting on Sunday night had not gone unnoticed and while myself and Howard felt obliged to ridicule his performance we were still more than happy to accompany him with his invitation to some VIP villa bash tonight.

Now, I’ve always hated these soiree’s for many reasons, but primarily because no-one ever invites me and secondary on the odd occasion I do manage to gatecrash an unsuspecting crowd of bona fide VIPs’ I find the banality of their company only slightly more enjoyable than my normal Monday evening self-loathing sessions. However with the prospect of free food and the chance to be in company of far superior beauty to myself I slapped the old spice on and was ready to roll.

Secluded in the pine forests between San Raphael and Santa Gertrudis lay our destination and upon arrival it became clear that this party would differ somewhat from your average sanan balcony set, breezing past the salmon canapés and directly to the bar to introduce myself to my best friend for the night I then went, two drinks in hand, in search of my first VIPs after what seemed like an age of cruising the crowds I found one, only, unexpectedly he was in the impromptu dj booth, a certain A-list dj who’s identity will remain a secret to keep his integrity intact, when questioned as to who he knew here? or why he was present, he answered quite succinctly, nobody and money. Perturbed and bemused I went to freshen myself in the bathroom taking Pablo with me we mused over the lack of present superstars of heads of state. This took more time than usual and after a good forty minutes we re-launched ourselves amongst the supposed jet set to.  Not wanting to be rude I then began to introduce myself, somewhat agitatedly back,  to my reserved company, to be met by a Russian guy here on holiday who new an Israeli who was putting the party on whom he done business with once, and then it struck, these bastards weren’t VIP’s they were just stinking rich, disgusted by my peers fraudulent claims I returned to the washroom, which done nothing to dilute my distaste. This recent presumption of money creating someone’s importance is foreign to me, some of the richest people I have never known could not be more unimportant to me if they were selling hamburgers outside I synchronised swimming gala.

My appal for my hosts expelled itself in a somewhat uncouth manner when I caught up with aforementioned stinking rich Israeli in the form of me question of what importance his wealth was to me and as such justify not only his importance, but very important status, ( I’d had a few), a man in a non-remarkable suit asked me to leave and take my cohorts with me. I left.

 Back where I belong in the grimy surrounding’s of the Limelight bar in the port  we enjoyed the hospitality of a far better host, in Ahmed, the cheery Moroccan seemed to have no boundary for his repulsion for our previous hosts manner, funny seeing as they'd never met.

P.S we thank the big man with the strings that we hear our dear friend Gerard is doing well and on the road to recovery.

Sunday 16th September 2007

After the disco bloodbath of last week I promised myself I was going to tread with more care on this one.  Arriving to catch the end of Oli Faulkner’s efx workout I was able to move around the terrace quite comfortably enjoying the wiggles and squiggles before Ralph Lawson joined him in the booth to release his drums.  taking a while to get going after about 30mins the floor was primed for some serious manoeuvres, as was I having spent the duration of my visit propping up the bar. However it was all a well thought out plan, while saving myself for Kissy Sell-Out. I hadn’t heard the freak DJ yet but his tunes and remixes had being doing damage throughout this year so I was looking forward to hearing his madness, restricted to a short set, probably worked out, as his electro insanity was quite disparate and launching with 2-unlimted is wrong in anybody’s book. the crowd soon forgave him and by the time he was handing them over he had done himself justice, although still disappointed.

Friend of the family, Bones was treating the el Salon to some unusual flavour’s but had a busier room than most for that set but onwards I travelled into the discoteca to prep myself for some Zabiela shenanigans, by now the sun was long gone and the pretty faces of the daytime crowd had made way for a more ghoulish clientele, no doubt anticipating the appearance of the dark lords Tiefschwarz. By the time they appeared the massive room was rocking to JZ’s skills justifying his recent accolade as best British DJ by DJ Mag with some manic scratching. While Succumbing to the black music of the brothers grim, I decided I wanted a spot for the return of Mehdi on the terrace, billed with closing spot of the terraza such was the devastation of his performance at the 2nd party he returned without his Ed Banger stable to truly obliterate the Terraza. Rolling through his own productions such as lucky girl, and tracks such as phantom, and a cheeky Blue Monday bootleg, to close with a bit of R.A.T.M, priceless. 

Wednesday 19th September 2007

The highlight of the Ibiza season for many years now has been without doubt, the We Love staff party, stars and clergymen alike scramble for their golden tickets to the hoedown in the hills, which this year decamped to Aura on the to San Juan.

An excellent little oasis away from all sorts of preying eyes, we were treated to culinary delicacies far beyond our usual daily breads, but it would surprise you how many in attendance don’t come to eat, trying to served at the free bar is just down right dangerous, so it was with a sense of relief that we were directed through to our dining area without any serious casualties. The staff done us the honour of dealing with our food quickly and after we had consumed our feast and the first strains of Alex’s after dinner beats fell a good friend of mine suggested that we show Pablo where the bathroom was. Unfortunately Pablo got lost on the way to the bathroom but we did meet Howard there, regrettably a catastrophe ensued, and I spent the following 2hours clawing my way around a gravel car park trying to find the exit. Oh how I laughed when I got to the other side. By this point the bar was nearly dry and but for Scott Martin’s beats and 3 hastily devoured bottles of rioja this night could have all to easily been a disaster. After a tricky drive back said friend announced he would like to make up for his earlier indiscretions, and thus retired back to his with Howard until the sun came up.

Sunday 23rd September

By now Pablo and Howard’s outstayed welcome was starting to irritate me somewhat and prior to venturing towards We Love’s penultimate party I had convinced them that their skills would be better served on other shores and thus promptly booked them tickets for the following morning, thus making this one rather emotional.

We arrived early evening, the sun still blistering, and headed straight to the sunset terrace as Tony Haze was starting his set, the floor was packed and we were ready to delouse ourselves of last nights cobwebs. The three of us didn’t wait about and got set about our goals as Tony Haze flew through his set of electro house with a smattering of surprises, highlighting with Crescendolls and a cheeky Born Slippy boot. The terrace was bouncing as he made way for Jason Bye to turn the direction down a more tribal path, all of us loving every last minute.

A little bit of a breather was required so an hour spent on the premier etage was called for, allowing us to dissect what had gone before and prophesise about was yet to come, that was if we could get Pablo away from his fans.

An often neglected caja roja was our next port where we soaked up Paul ”I don’t play breaks anymore” troubles Arnolds breaks set as he got things underway in the chew the fat room. Electro party breaks and the contained crowd were going nuts even for this early hour. But the world doesn’t stop spinning for anyone and the next place we found ourselves was in the discoteca grooving to Serge Santiago’s ubiquitous unique beats. Warming up the club perfectly for one of tonight’s headliners, One + One, ending their world tour in the same room where the concept took shape exactly a year ago to the day. Emotions running nearly as high as the duo’s charismatic manager Serge. The earlier set time allowing the massive Maidstone contingent to celebrate the end of tour in style and looking at the back bar of Space, where they had set up camp you could of swore there would of been a fleet of XR3i’s in the car park waiting to ferry them home.

Leaving them to their Pernod’s I ventured to the terrace fro Andy Cato’s last solo gig of the summer as he breezed through his proggy acid sound to a frenzied dance floor, all this and Matt & Layo had still to round things off for us. Matt having been on and off a wagon more times than a stage coach driver was on blistering form bringing the night to a close amidst howls of appreciation.

Unfortunately it was not to end their as we retired to the one+one after party at the ever friendly Ocean Drive, but even by our standards we were pushing it as fifty infused loons introduced themselves to the marina breakfast club.

My work was done, all that was left was to introduce the now quivering brace of Pablo and Howard to their waiting driver and wish them luck on their 14 hour journey.

 Hasta Lluego

Friday 28th September 2007

After the carnage of after-party, dc-10 and cocoon closing  my week’s been spent in the salubrious company at a friends villa, this man was vip2me, a close business contact of Pablo from back home he had very kindly invited me to join him in his villa which looked had been designed by Don Johnson, everything was to hand to a point where after Thursday’s small get together finished sometime around Saturday afternoon I don’t know who felt more used, me or him, all innocently on both our parts I’m sure. Good company, good sounds, great security.

Sunday 30th September 2007

So, is this it, 16 long weeks and it’s come to this, but this wasn’t time for reflection that would come. Today was about the closing party and the chaos that would unfold over the following day(s). Even by normal standards this one was ridiculous in size. It started for me on the terraza, just gone high noon as Dave Beer was playing to the early crowd still rolling from his earlier exploits in Leeds at Basics the night before that man was on form, taking into account the time of day and keep it friendly with a few classics. After Tony Haze had done his bit it was Dave’s sparring partner Buckley’s turn to up the gains as this session got into itself. Serge Santiago then picked up the reign’s and by now I was rolling, not a good sign seeing as there was still 14 hours to go, but the rest of crowd seemed to have the same idea, unable than to do anything other than party to Serge’s techy electro. All this and all of my friends weren't even talking to me, more converned as to where Pablo and Howard had got to.

Upstairs Scott Martin was getting all emotional playing his final sunsets, and as I came to party I headed for the darkness of the discoteca to feel Oli Faulkner ripping up the first of the days zombies. On the terrace the renaissance man, Cassius was showing what we missed last year, by stepping up with a bag of house delights with that French touch that I love to go for, and so I did. On the dancefloor properly for the first time of the day, the man tore up the terraza as the sun was going down, it was properly packed by now, but the crowd had somehow agree to move in unison to avoid any agro. An unexpected extended set from the Frenchman was well received as Paul Woolford had forgot to set his alarm clock again, but when he did come on was well worth the wait. Flying straight into Man with Guitar. Things were heading along quite nicely.

It was then David Guetta’s turn to bring his selection of upfront house to the terrace, obviously a main draw for a lot of the crowd, although not for me. So I went for some much needed downtime in the el salon. By the time I had recharged the gigolo’s were displaying their wares in the form of a short set from label man David Careta, a huge clued up crowd had been waiting patiently for this and as Hell oversaw his prodigy he must have pleased with the ‘floors response to one of his main men’s sounds.

This was where I was to remain until that is I got the call that 2manydjs were about to bring it to the terraza, so I returned to my spot and pounded the dance floor with all the other delirious punters, having to catch a flight the brothers left bang on 6 which left it up to resident David Phillips and little help from Bones to close what has been an indescribable summer, apart from the fact I’ve been describing it for you. badly

Is this it?

Is it fuck!

I’ll be in touch soon with more of my innate ramblings

A N Other We Lover

www.welove-music.com

www.myspace.com/welove_music 

Over the past few years, Ms. Walker has booked DJs for several large scale events: the Ignite Party for emerging artists--organization Gen Art, private cocktail party for famed celebrity event photographer Patrick McMullan, product launch of Burberry’s latest fragrance Brit, promotional party for British designer Keanan Duffty, private birthday party for the publisher of WIRED magazine and the launch party hosted by Kim Porter for “Intimate” by photographer Marc Baptiste.

Wednesday nights habitual culinery treat led me to bambuddha grove, Jon Moon's disturbing fusion of tantric sex and thai cuisine, decorated with all the vigour of an acid casualty pining for his lost soul. I hadn't been up here in a while, mainly due to my realisation in previous seasons that the food rarely matched up to it's accolade of being a must visit on the ibiza resaturant circuit. However my misgivings have done nothing to stem it's firm inclusion in the consciousness of many clubbers who make it their main night out for a slap up meal when their appetites return. It was under such duress that I found myself there the other night and I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong. My memories and experience could not have been more disparate. While I found the incessant burning of incense and aforementioned Pollock inspired neon-assault on the walls verging on the nauseus the food was anything but. The fillet I had rivalled any other I've had on this island and the wasabi-mash served as much appreciated sinus clearer. My cheesecake dessert was the only genuine attempt at it I've found over here and staff couldn't have been more attentive if my shirt was made out of 500 euro bills. Respect is due.

The following night I continued my adventures at Privilege for Monza I shuffled as enhusiastically as I could to Magda's brand of gypsy techno, as aurally inoffencsive I found her groove, I couldn't manage to do anymore than that, so retired back to the villa for somemore appropriate sedatives.

On to Sunday and not that we tend to need it but we yet another excuse to get down to our birthday suits, as Sasha returned to host his annual knees-up. But the big man could wait, I launched into this session while the sun was still up as Jason Bye had the sunset terrace rolling to his trademark beats mixing up his electro tribal sound with some of the seasons big hitters, highlight being being tune of the summer contender, transit time.

After I had built up enough of a sweat it was upstairs to the Premier Etage to catch some Alex Wolfenden toying with the last of the days sun and throwing everything from MJ to Al Green at the swelling numbers.

But night had arrived and it was time to get down to the serious business, Groove Armada had returned and by the time it struck midnight the terrace was jumping in unison to the duo's party set, I was in the middle of it all, loving it. From there to my first foray into the discoteca where behrouz was playing a stormig progressive techno set warming the way for birthday boy Sasha to take over the controls, no doubt a lot of the crowds headliner as his sets become fewer and farther due to his stateside commitments I was bowled away having not heard him in such a long time. Really bouncy acid with the effects over the top that made you feel like you were turning inside out.

After which it was the turn of protege James Zabiela to run the night home bringing his skills to the closing set as the crowds pounded to the last beat.

 Here's to Birthdays

A N Other We Lover

www.welove-music.com

www.myspace.com/welove_music

And so, I headed back under my rock with mixed feelings of bewilderment and disappointment. Tomorrow’s another day.

And so it was, after the week I had I thought it best to renew my substandard pigmentation to white after I had descended to a mucky shade of grey after my infirmity so it was not until after 5 in the afternoon that I got my now unofficial starters pistol that is Elio Riso laying down the last of his afternoons beats to make way for Tony Haze. After 2 hours of slowly picking up the pace the terraza was heaving as the sun started to set and the disturbing site of Dave Beer was visible in the booth from the dancefloor, complete with inflatable guitar, I wasn't ready for this, I'm a sick man.

Over on the Sunset Terrace the peak time crowds for that room, the masses were jumping to Tom Novy's house, with Tom seemingly enjoying it as much as anyone. The fluency was perfect as the upfront crowds left the openair terrace to descend on the terraza which was starting to groove to Dimitri From Paris' grooves, making his debut for the party he was visibly blown away by the enormity of the space. The man's legacy has already been written is the history books but I think this was a new challenge even for him, and I have to give his dues as he went though his box picking up disco classic after classic, next it was Andy Catos turn to fly solo from the booth enjoying the freedom away from his usual constraints to produce a more progressive acidic sound that ebbed and flowed nicely.

In the disctoeca Smokin Jo was presiding over her goons as the Nude/Warehouse collaboration took over the discoteca for 3 hours of freaks and geeks. Transforming the room into a circus on the right side of wrongness with the back drop of Jo's slamming tech house, quite the spectacle. After which Ewan Pearson picked up the pieces and drove my night home. Enough to make you sick.

Bit's and Pieces

A N Other We Lover

www.welove-music.com

www.myspace/welove_music

I was just sitting there drinking my coffee scouting the local morning shows to find something filled with debauchery when I heard this little angel's voice. Enthralled in her behavior I smiled with glee. What a polite precious, annoyingly cute, child.

Every morning, sometimes, they have a 6 minute special properly titled "This is Emily Yeung" and let me tell you, this little girl should have been named the new co-host for The View.

Emily gets to do something new and exciting everyday with adults who are pretending to tolerate such an annoying breed of human (toddler/kid). And she does these new fun exciting (read: stupid) tasks with elegance, charm, innocence, and wit. I love Emily Yeung. She has had the pleasure of: baking an upside down pineapple cake, sand sculpting, weaving rabbits fur, delivering mail (what a real treat), making fruit smoothies, and being a construction worker.

After every episode Emily tells her new adult "friend" that she is so glad that they taught her how to (insert something here) because she had sooooooooooo much fun. Then she proceeds to give them an all powerful high five and giggle. I laugh every time, it's so hysterically sweet.

It got me to thinking what I could teach Emily Yeung to do... but only fellatio and packing bowls came to mind.

Anyhow, if you all want to see something GREAT and family friendly (gag), Emily Yeung is your girl. And the show is about as long as your first time so.. win/win situation!

Disney Channel owns her soul, its on every morning around 7:30.

Today the magnificent and beautiful Salma Hayek turned 41.

Yes, 41.

Aging gracefully is possible, and this woman is living proof.

And if her perfect skin and flawless smile are not enough, consider this.

She's pregnant, and nearly due. A mom for the first time at 41! How great is that?

Just for fun, the writers here at Elle will give Ms. Hayek the best birthday present our drugged and drunken little minds can offer - we're going to recreate the famous snake dance scene that made her famous in "From Dusk til Dawn."

Elle would like to wish our amiga a happy, happy birthday, full of wonderful wishes, and many thanks for the inspiration she gives us.

After being raised alone, mistaken ill, and surrounded by a wee bit of dysfunctionality, Amelie cultivates a grand taste for the little things in life; helping others, skipping stones, and tasty desserts.

With her own sense of self justice, Amelie makes the conscious decision to dedicate her life to doing good and bringing vengeance upon those who do bad. With a tad of wit and a lot of soul, Amelie's life turns into a voyage of helping everyone around her while ignoring her own wants and needs. After realizing that she is lonely, repressed, and doomed to never find love..she feels cheated, and more alone than ever. Ready to change, she begins to chase love... literally.

This is a movie that will have your attention to the very last credit. The cinematography alone is enough to have you enchanted, relegated to hearing the underlying message that is Amelie's adventure.

Take a blanket, an open mind, and a lot of smiles in your pocket to the couch, you'll need them with this one. It's simply wonderful.

The word brash could have been invented for Tony Wilson, the man was fully aware that he wasn't put on this earth to be liked, and he stuck to his mission with gusto. What he did do was champion his own ideals and people with vigour.

From bringing the early punk scene north from London to his native Manchester so began a road that if it had not been travelled I suspect we would not have the global dance scene we enjoy today. But to be fair, Tony Wilson didn't care much for global domination, purely making Manchester the epi-centre of culture for a short space of time was enough.

While forming Factory Records and presenting the talents of OMD, Happy Mondays, James, and iconically Joy Division and the succeeding New Order. Tony Wilson opened Fac 51 the Hacienda in 1982 and after the rave explosion in 97/88 Wilson along with DJ's such as Mike Pickering, Graeme Park, Sasha and Laurent Garnier cemented The Hacienda as the Godfather of clubbing but this isn't a history lesson. These words are merely to lament the range and impact that Tony Wilson has had on all our lives. But as sad I am at his passing, reflecting on what he helped to create can not keep a smile from my face for too long. Here's to a rich man who chased his own dreams and never chased the money.

And so, after the news on Saturday, did it feel right to be celebrating the birthday of Space the next day, well yes, it did, couldn't have felt more right actually. Unfortunately I've been to a few wakes in my time and when the day comes for my send off if it's anything like Sundays was I'll be greeting St. Peter with a smile.

Space's 18th birthday party was due to be rather large, old enough to drink now, you see and with Groove Armada, Bob Sinclar, Jeff Mills, Dan Ghenacia, James Zabiela, Nic Fancuilli and Paul Woolford blowing out the candles I was prepared for anything, I had even brought enough cake for everyone.

It was with the afore mentioned fancuilli that the festivities really got underway on the terrace with swarms of Italians, Spanish and British converging together to play a rather disorganised version of musical chairs. (I won, again I brought my own and kept it in my pocket). But after Tom and Andy rocked up no one was looking to be sitting down, set 2 of the summer and they're getting better. For the vast majority of their set I was found pogo-ing from one side of the terrace to the other. However, one mis-timed pogo too many and I was captivated by the charms of Zabiela, destroying the discoteca with whatever it is that he does, I swear the man must be some kind of mutant freak and the blur of blonde hair banging inside the booth is just a ruse of misdirection as his extra freaky hands spring forth from his abdomen to facillitate his alleged wizardry.

Anyway enough with the conspiracies for now, more later. During the changeover from James we're not fooled Zabiela to Jeff a breath of fresh air please Mills the fuc y fum misfits made it apparent that they had yet again escaped from their zoo to whip the crowd into hystreonics, via their bizarre interpretations of inanimate buggery.

On the terrace enigmatic frenchman Bob Sinclar was pulling all sort of tunes from his bag from Dj Kool's let me clear my throat to his own new release Sound of Freedom. Having had my fill I jumped back to the disctoteca to here the start of Dan Ghencias set returing to Space for the 1st time this summer, as expected Dan dropped a gear from Jeff Mills' exploitations and then started to rebuild. Which left me in the perfect mind to round off my night with the man Paul Woolford.

By my ear Woolford was playing an edgier more underground set than he has been of late on the terrace drawing the crowd further and further in to his groove until it culminated in one of the finest moments I've ever had on the terrace. Leaving the crowd to hang for a beat from his last record and as the drums stuttered the start of Blue Monday the poignancy was not lost on the crowd as it erupted.

I think anybody present would agree, God maybe gave Rock and Roll to us, but we've got Tony Wilson to thank for Acid House.

A N Other We Lover

www.welove-music.com

www.myspace.com/welove_music

We've recently been arrested by Mariska Hargitay - Detective Olivia Benson - of Law and Order: SVU.  And what's not to love? Her square jaw that makes her so exotically beautiful? Her love of Manolo Blahniks? Her family bloodline? Her hair or perfect skin?

Actually, as so often is the case with crushes and true love, our feelings are deeper than just what lies on the outside.

Yes, we think it is incredibly hot that she's the daughter of legendary sex symbol Jayne Mansfield - who could have been Elle embodied. But we think it is really hot when she says things like this: "Although I have never thought of myself as a pin-up of any kind, I have no problem with being a lesbian pin-up. I’m flattered."

She's a real-life licensed rape counselor. She speaks four languages. She's a devoted mother. She started The Joyful Heart Foundation, which help survivors of sexual assault heal their minds, bodies and spirits and reclaim their lives.

And - she makes time to write her own blog! And what a cute, humble, and fun read it is!

Mariska leads by example - both on screen and off, and for this, Elle loves her with all the love our little Grinch hearts can handle.

I am so glad that Rock won. Even though I used to want Bonnie to win. They brought his family in and I caved. And plus he didn't scream at that shitty cook Josh (who should be running a waffle house somewhere in Alabama with all the mediocrity seeping out of his pores). You would think they filtered contestants for a drip of talent. I like Josh though because he got kicked off the show with less dignity than any other contestant ever (in the middle of service..) and he still left hoping the best for everyone. And still thinking he could cook. They didn't even burn his picture. They hate him.

Jen and Julia were totally robbed of their titles because Bonnie clearly shouldn't have made it that far. But Julia needed to step off her high horse and have a little humility. She was stomping around feeling sorry for herself all last night. It was kind of like "okay you lost and now you look like a sore loser." She wouldn't even wrap something up for Bonnie when asked.

Okay Bonnie was cuter than both Jen and Julia and it was probably for ratings but cooking wise she wasn't up to par. I was rooting for Julia in the beginning, then Jen because she was obviously the best one there (except for when she took the pasta out of the trash... eek!) and then Bonnie until she showed her true colors. Oh my god, could you imagine the stress Gordon put those two under?? She would have never been able to handle it as a career. Go back to making grilled cheese for those rich little brats.. bitch.

When they had their super dramatic almost conclusion of revealing the winner but only after the commercial for prozac and ambien I was dying of anxiety. I almost pissed myself because I knew I didn't want almost psycho Bonnie to win and ruin Chef Ramsey's reputation. Go Ramsey, go with the black guy! I kept screaming. I loved it. Rock is going to be great and if I ever go to Las Vegas I will strip, have a threesome, and go to his restaurant. Not in that order but definitely after my threesome. Sex makes me hungry.

Ramsey is getting another Great show that is bound to have people petrified to eat out in the near future. I'll tell more about it later.

Never one to be involved in low key affairs, Bushwacka and organisers Sid and Joe had contrived to create a memorable night with Mathews sparring partner Layo looking after the tunes and a mysterious punch doing the rounds the only downer of the night was the guardia appearing on queue at 0030 to close the party down….for 20 mins until they left and festivities resumed until the small hours.

Saturday night and by this time of year, the port is struggling to contain the sheer numbers that gather for ferrogusto. It actually now takes longer to park your car than it does to get served at one of the bustling bars. Never being one to be put off by a crowd I eventually nestled in Locura. A beautiful little bar secluded in the back streets that surround the Dalt Villa. Away from the masses I was able to lubricate myself comfortably until the small hours.

Sunday’s seem to be coming around quicker with each passing week, and as I arrived just before 5pm this one looked to be gearing up to be one of the busiest. No time to hang around I headed straight for the terrace to catch Oli Faulkner warming up the terrace for the coming carnage. Sugarshacks resident was doing a fine job as Elio Riso then stepped up to lay down plenty of his own productions.

A quick pop over to the Sunset Terrace relayed any fears that Jason Bye was getting over comfortable with his pre sunset spot. This was the point in the day when the crowds were really setting themselves up and Jason certainly wasn’t for holding them back. Back on the Terrace, Tony Haze was playing his 1^st gig in the room and doing a fine job filling the room up for Buckley. Laying down tracks from Samin, very quickly becoming a summer favourite and the new rerub of Eyerer’s, Haunting. Buckley very quickly took the ‘floor to the next level pushing the room harder with moroderesque keys, and a definitive groove. The big man clearly enjoying his set as much as the people on the dance floor.

After a well earned rest on Bora Bora it was back inside to catch the man with the Golden Fleece, David Guetta, by now the Terrace was packed and bouncing to the Frenchman’s unmistakable sound. While inside man of the moment Claude Von Stroke was delivering a lesson in accessible techno. Now, I was aware of all his Dirty Bird shenanigans, but I had never actually heard the big man play before. Think big bouncy squelchy bass-lines with a driving beat throughout. Setting the scene perfectly for the legend that is Carl Craig to round the night off.

The man's music just eschews intelligence. Far and away the best techno set I’ve ever heard at Space or anywhere else for that matter. A master class from a master, watching the smiling faces surrounding me on the dance floor as he close with Knights of The Jaguar was beautiful. Having been hypnotised by Craig’s beats I only came to as the last beats echoed around me but just off in the distance, well the terrace to be precise I could here Tiefschwarz winding down. With a quick hop skip and a jump I was able to here the last 2 tunes of their set before I had to once again head off to endure what Monday was to bring.

A N Other We Lover 

www.welove-music.com

www.myspace.com/welove_music

This flamboyant gay man and his "news talk" web show chats about everything we at elle review type about that's going on in the Hollywood screwed up scene. It's unstoppable to find Buck tapping into our subconscious of laughter, bitchdom, and snark. now if only he would do the gay finger snap.

Here is our hoorah to Michael Buckley and his What the Buck show... but seriously, just say fuck.

One such messenger seemed to slip through our keepers nets however. Nostrdamus wasn't a man to mince his words, he was French after all, and thankfully for us had a penchant for this little Island of ours. For, while the UK wades around in the aftermath of the biggest shower since our gallic friend last picked up his quill and the middle-east teeters further towards our inevitable armagedon, we here in Ibiza can rest easy as our presumptuous scribe prophesised that "Ibiza will be Earth’s final refuge after Armageddon", magic. Engines running, lightbulbs on, lets go disco.

Nostradamus must have stood out from his fellow beardstrokers, as did Rick James, now Ibiza has welcomed back Mr C., he's super-freaky, for his DC-10 soiree, joined by his mischievous Dollz At Play. This is where I found myself last Wednesday for some perfect mid-week moves. The atmosphere and tunes are nice and not quite as hedonistic as the Monday gathering.

On the subject of DC-10 residencies it seems as they are welcoming one in Andreas et al are ushering another one out the door, prior to it even commencing in fact. Josh Wink, who not so long ago was splattered over every dance music magazine announcing his new union with Circoloco. However, apprently in one such publication the acid king jumbled the following; promotors are the off their all and heads disorganised the crowd and all drug-fucked are incapable loons hearing of the nevermind music to it dancing.

I've never been a master of word jumbles, but to me it certainly sounded a bit harsh even offensive, strange coming from Josh, who won't even drink milk as it encourages twisting cows nipples in order for our own gratification. Another false prophecy by the way, Josh, as agreed they all say they don't like getting their nipplies twisted, but we know they love it really.

Thursday night and myself and some wonderful company took the road less travelled to Sol d'en Serra, very quickly marking itself as one of the places in Ibiza. Built into the rocks just south of Cala Llonga, the three tiers that make up the venue from beach to cliff-top offer total luxury which can be savoured during the day via the sumptuous loungers and cocktail menu.

However it was night time, just after sunset when we sat. Perfectly located on the middle tier we sat and chose a selection of the sushi to start and some bad-ass fillet steak for our main. The whole night was perfect but booking is definately required.

The contrast could not have been more severe when we returned on Saturday for the 2nd session of silliness procured by the Mulletover boys, or to be more precise boy, as Rob Star was the only one present due to Geddes showing a greater amount of hygene than usual and washing his passport the previous night. Although his presence was definately missed the support from Jaime and Rocky proved a perfect soundtrack for a very memorable night amid a perfect backdrop, fireworks the lot. I found the party tamer than usual which was quite welcoming, as there were so many friendly faces catching up as opposed to being able to speak as is the norm at these parties.

Sunday, Sunday, so good to me. Not just for the Mamas & Papas who seemed to prefer the morning after the night before but for the guys and girls who are pounding the dancefloors on a weekly basis at We Love... even by normal standards this one was going to be a marathon, who was I going to be able to catch Dave Beer, Cagedbaby, Ben Watt, Sneak, Glimmers, Princess Superstar, Hell and Layo & Bushwacka. Correct me if I'm wrong  but that's a lineup for a festival not a club, and on a Sunday of all days? when we're supposed to be reflecting? the big man would not be pleased, cue floods.

What can be written about Dave Beer that hasn't already, well the latex power-rangers mask is certainly an addition to his repartee, and if there was ever a man who should wear a mask...However he was brought here not to scare small children but to get the terrace warmed up for Cagedbaby's live show, which he did with aplomb. Cagedbaby who looks like he's wearing a mask but actually isn't got into his electro groove very quickly keeping it accessible yet quirky as the swelling terrace crowd responded to every click and drop. Raise the Roof especially eh... raised the roof

Ben Watt followed and flowed easily from deep house to techno eschewing that now sound which is very much down to him via his Buzzin Fly label. The ex-EBTH man seemed to relish his 1st set for We Love and I would ceratinly expect to see him back in the coming seasons judging by the response of the crowd.

I usually need a breather by this time on Sunday but the acts were coming thick and fast, and fully aware of my responsibilities to you guys I had to get my head down and get on with it because, DJ Sneak was in the house, yeah. The unmistakable, aurally and asthetically unmistakable DJ Sneak. House music continually evolves thats one of the reasons why We Love... it so and many DJ's who can't adapt simply get left behind. Sneak is the exception to this rule, you could walk into any club in the world and within 2 beats you would know that Sneaks Boomp is the house. Classic chicago boompty house music. The terrace was absolutely rocking as the other big man kept the floor locked in a constant groove. We Love...to wiggle

 The Glimmers, trying their hardest not to make their set, flying straight from Global Gather and their flight touching down 30mins before they were due to mix their 1st tune, they arrived in the booth miraculously with 1 tune to spare as David Phillips handed over the reigns of the mammoth Discoteca soundsytem. Personally, this is what my night was waiting for, these boys are up there in my top 5, with their mix of space rock disco, and classic house party music, and they did not dissappoint. Rocking all the way until Hell turned up to usher the crowd down his satanic path.

All that was left of the evening for me was to bound between the 2 main rooms to catch Layo & Bushwacka and the glam electro of Princess Superstar. Having caught Matt & Layo on their previous visit, I chose to spend most of my time stomping to the one-off chance of electro queen Princess Superstar.  Driving through Herberts, Moving like a train and culminating with an encore of Justice Vs Simian. Please forgive me.

Peace be with you

Another We Lover

www.welove-music.com

www.myspcae.com/welove_music.com