Booze Bunny.

It's the long Easter weekend so many of you will be looking to destroy some of your liver and brain cells, volleying massive amounts of booze into your face in the hope of forgetting how dreadful your life is. We at TOLAS are always ready and willing enablers so if you're tired of the usual Special Brew and cough medicine cocktails and are looking for something new to pour down your neck then here here to help with our updated list of some of our favourite tipples. Whether you're a carefree but busy professional glue sniffer, a workaholic Mexican prostitute, or a world weary traveller on a business trip to Honduras buying a teenage boys pancreas for yourself, we've got the drink that's perfect for you.
Have a fucking look if you don't believe me you fat cunt!

The Hodgepodge:
Served in: Jar.
Splash of every brand of alcohol I can name with my eyes closed in ten seconds, with ice.

The Amalgam:
Served in: Chilled highball glass.
Point to every bottle behind the bar. The first two I mispronounce the name of, go in the glass. Garnished with sprig of rosemary.

The Pisto Scour:
Served in: Soup Bowl.
That's me slurring "Pisco Sour." Just make a pisco sour.

The Knockout:
Served in: Tumbler.
One time I tried to convince two sixty year old security guards who were watching a boxing match that it was intimate and tender that the adversaries would sometimes lean on each other for support, their heads on one another's shoulders like an old couple dancing in the final hour of their child's wedding, after they had both exhausted themselves in salvos of brutality upon each other. Two fingers tequila, sambuca, grapefruit soda, splash of spit.

The Senior Thesis:
Served in: Rag.
This is more of an inhalant than a cocktail. Anytime I start talking about my undergraduate literature thesis I am implicitly ordering this. Soak a rag in ether. When I rally and say "What was I talking about" say "The middle ages."

The Middle Ages:
Served in: Ale flagon.
I've started yelling about shit. Not figuratively, actual shit: its provenance, its prevalence, and its pestilence. If I use the term "horse diarrhea" it's time to drink a flagon of water.

The Gordon Brown:
Served in: Vase.
This is what you order if The Queen shows up to the bar. I don't know what's in it.

The Weekend At Bernie's:
Served in: Margarita glass.
This is a cute one. Fill a margarita glass with Muppet pubes.

The Dublin Over:
Served in: Shot glass, Pint glass.
This is a modified Irish Car Bomb, the modification being that instead of a 60% chance of immediately vomiting the probability is 100%. Guinness, with shot of sriracha dropped in.

A Glass of Port:
Served in: Whatever port is served in.
I only ever drink port if I'm a tulip bulb merchant with gout in which case we're both already dead and we're reincarnating backwards.

Pispo Powder:
Pisco Sour again.

The Garden of Earthly Delights:
Served in: Champagne flute; Margarita glass, Champagne flute.
At this point I've either recuperated through the curative powers of vomiting and protein (Dublin Over, Pispo Powder) or I've died (Glass of Port). Either way, let's visit the garden of earthly delights.
This drink is three panels long and visually symmetrical. It deals with conceptions of heaven, purgatory, and hell. The first champagne flute is spring water, the finest that the bartender can provide. The margarita glass is elderflower liqueur, rosé, splash of wormwood, a sprig of lavender, and a drop of bitters. Served on a napkin with a titty drawn on it. The final glass is piss.

Till next month.
Big love. Mark. X

Thoughts On Love & Smoking podcast #9. Man Power. (Correspondant/Hivern Discs)

It was always inevitable.
As sure as night follows day and "Where's my money?" follows me entering a pub, there was always going to be a Man Power podcast round these parts. I've put it off, hoping his bubble would burst and he'd be forced to move back to Newcastle and get a job as an apprentice horse nobbler or some shit so I could mock him mercilessly for having the temerity to have a glimmer of ambition (fingers crossed there's time left!). But alas no. It all seems to be going swimmingly for young (sic) master Kirkwood aka Man Power, who now finds himself in the employ of one of Mexico's minor cartels and lives in a compound working as some sweaty drug lords personal 'beat maker' and chiropodist or sutin' like that.
Clearly anyone who knows me, or indeed Geoff, will be aware that I'm not about to spend ANY length of time blowing smoke up his arse or saying anything even remotely positive about his rapid rise to fame and fortune. Oh no. Rather I thought I'd give you all a window into the fractured psyche of the man behind Man Power. An idea of the processes which allow him to seemingly effortlessly churn out mediocre record after disappointing record with alarming pace and regularity. I thought I'd spill some of his deepest darkest secrets. The real nitty gritty. The shit that will make you hurl like a rookie medic attending an explosion at a chainsaw factory. So here goes! When he was only 15 years old he sold his whole family intHEY YOU UK GAY LORD GUYS! STAR WARS ISNT FOR KIDS. U BEEN HACKED BY DARTHVAPER69. IF U WANT UR PRESS RELEASE BACK U MAKE A MORK AND MINDY MOVIE ABOUT CRAIGS DAVID WHO DID 9/11 FALSE FLAG. DO IT OR I HACK UR VAPE PEN TO MAKE UR VAPES TASTE LIKE PUBES. ALSO PLZ FOLLOW ME ON TWITCH (NAME: minion4adick) FOR SONIC THE HEDGEHOG SPEED RUNS AND AWESOMES TITTIES PICS THANK YOU BYEut all of that however may just have been a McGuffin. Non of this tells us why he always smells of liver, why he can't walk sideways and why he always has a yarking, greet big carb face on Thursdays?! No. It in fact tell us nothing, but he knows that he'll never be able to wash the blood of those children off his hands!!

Anyway, now that that's out of the way, here's the mix that the murdering bastard sent us so you might as well dig in. You've clearly got nowt better to do!

Man Power on Facebook.
Man Power on Soundcloud.
Man Power's vacuous exercise in online vanity.



As always, you can download the podcast over at out Hearthis.at page below. X




Till next time.
Big love Mark. X

Neil Dawson: Agony Uncle/Bastard/Fat Bloke.

Fat Neil Dawson has a severe allergy to grass pollen and Intel Pentium Processor's. He once fell down a ravine as a child and as a result of this is now a lifelong Conservative. He likes nothing better than putting people in boxes and judging people. He's off his tits on Tia Maria most days and is a life long hoarder. However, he's been given this column as a favour, so will give your problems his absolute best shot.

Dear Neil,
I suspect my son is gay. This isn’t a problem – I would just like to know. How can I get him to confide in me?
Judy.
Lanarkshire.

Dear Judy,
Some of my favourite people are as bent as a hoop, so try to look on the bright side; he could help you with your decorating instead of getting killed in a war zone. Have you tried coaxing him out of his closet with a Shirley Bassey LP? He might not be gay. He might just suit pastel colours. Why does it matter so much to you? Maybe he is still undecided or likes both men and women – did you think about that? Did you? Well did you?!!! Have you seen him dance? It’s not a watertight theory but generally speaking straight men are unable to rotate their hips. Your letter suggests you may have too much time on your hands, Judy. Why not acquire some hobbies? Tropical fish are relaxing to watch and their deaths will not cause too much sadness.
Remember: you are from a generation where gayness was a sackable offence. Nowadays it is not even interesting. The worst that will happen is he gets his own show on Saturday night TV.
Take care you shithouse,
Neil. X

Dear Neil,
I find it hard to make friends and now I am in my late 30's it seems even more difficult, as everyone seems to be pairing off. What can I do? Please help.
Jackie.
HMP Wandsworth.

Well Jackie,
Judging by the stationery you used to send me your letter, I think I can pinpoint where you’re going wrong. As soon as your letter landed on my desk I could smell dog. Do you own a dog? Or are you just looking after one? Because I can smell dog. If this smell has permeated your stationery Jackie, just think what its done to your clothing! I hope this reply doesn’t upset you. I try to employ diplomacy and a kind word at all times. However, if you want any kind of a life Jackie, you need to have your dog destroyed.
Maybe you are just looking after one whilst its owner is away? Is this another of your ploys to make friends Jackie? If so, there are other methods. Have you tried falling in the street? This is a failsafe method for meeting new people. And only the kind ones will approach you, so you are already separating the wheat from the chaff. Once you have your ‘good samaritan’, tell them you think you may have fractured something and get them to call an ambulance. If they are any kind of potential friend they will follow up on your injury to see how you are doing. Then. Do. Not. Let. Them. Go.
Joining leisure centres and asking people to hold your ankles down whilst you do sit-ups can break the ice. Don’t bother with book clubs. Readers are very insular creatures and therefore a waste of your time. Why not take a course? Or learn a language? Anywhere where there is forced interaction can lead to friendship.
I’m assuming you’re single Jackie? The bitterness in your letter came through when you mentioned people ‘pairing off’. Have you thought of ‘pairing off’ yourself? Dating sites can offer potential love and friendship, and they are not all full of desperate loser weirdos.
Try to learn to enjoy your own company. I know it must be hard. Especially when others are ‘pairing off’ and you’re all alone, reeking of dog.
Remember the positives. Friendships involve a lot of man-hours. So why not make use of this free time by making sandwiches for the week ahead or simply sleeping, because when you’re sleeping there are no lonely times.
Take care you utter flap.
Neil. X


Dear Neil,
I’ve been dating my boyfriend for three years now. Last year he moved to Hong Kong for work. I’m worried. Can a long distance relationship survive?
Lyndsay.
River Thames. X

Dear Lyndsay,
A long distance relationship cannot survive. Oh you can Skype till you’re blue in the face but there’s a lot of truth in the old adage ‘out of sight, out of mind’. He’s probably already met someone nicer than you, like.
How long is he due to stay out there? If it’s longer than three months, I’d say forget him. Cut your losses and move on. Plenty more fish in the sea. Next time make sure your ‘fish’ has no ambition or drive. He’ll be less attractive but at least you’ll know where he is at night.
Also, are you absolutely sure he’s in Hong Kong? I knew a friend who told her boyfriend she was in San Francisco when in fact she was in Newport Pagnell all along; she just couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Keep your pecker up, pissface!
Neil. X


Dear Neil,
I am in so much debt. I’ve run up almost £9000 on credit cards and cant see a way out. What can I do?
Justine.
Metroland. Metroland.

Wake up Justine you doyle!
You are not Liberace! Reign in your spending and think before you buy. Do you really need a white baby grand piano encrusted with rhinestones? Keep a notebook of your purchases to see where you are haemorrhaging money. You could try leaving town but the odds are high that they will hunt you down like a dog. My advice is to cut up your cards and live like a monk for five or six years. Eventually you will break even and be able to allow yourself little treats – like Brie or a set of leather-bound encyclopedias.
Remember: the best things in life are free. Like air and the sea.
Do you live near, or over the top of an Aldi, Justine? My friend Barbara shops there and makes quite a saving on her food shop. Then again, Barbara’s tastebuds are fucking shot to shit (overuse of a tongue scraper during the 90's, innit). Still, if taste isn’t a big priority for you, you might want to give it a try.
Christ. What a mess! I feel really sorry for you. No I absolutely do not.

Get fucked.

Neil. X

NB: We would like to remind our readers that Neil Dawson is maladjusted. Why anyone would write in and ask his advice is beyond us. However, if you insist on knowing what a small-minded, 40-something xenophobe has to say about your problems then good luck to you.

Till next time.

Big love. X

This complete tool tells you about the future in a mystical fashion, AGAIN! IT'S DUNSFORD'S STARZ!!

‘Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Your favourite bastard Dubble D returns, with his take, on what’ll happen soon’

Aries:

You really loved February, that wanker from work was on the receiving end of a disciplinary. Don’t get too cocky though, you’re getting one this month. Gross misconduct as well. You’ll probably fucking hate March. Mercury will no longer be retrograde in your prestigious career sector. Luck rides a unicycle.

Taurus: Brexit questions swirl around your confused mind. Is Ian Duncan Smith an economic sage or will you go with the Cam Fam? Bit of a Sophie’s choice really. Flip a coin and do the opposite.

Gemini: This is such a special month for you that you may find yourself singing in the shower and showing a bounce to your step, careful not to slip and smash your head open.

Cancer: Tinder has stopped working, it’s fucked. Not to worry Cancer, it’s a glitch in the software not you. Swipe right for a mysterious stranger and a night in casualty.

Leo: This is a high energy month where you will be able to accomplish a lot and get what you want. That secret basement? Done. Use it for good, ignore the hitchhiker.

Virgo: The February 22 full moon continues its uncomfortable influence until the March 8 solar eclipse. It’s time to take the plunge and get yourself to the clap clinic.

Libra: A chance meeting at a motorway service station leaves you with more answers than questions but those questions…..just won’t ever go away. Ever.

Scorpio: It’s a good time to try a new hobby as the moon is usually out at night. Get yourself a Spinning Jenny and a small child to get mashed up in it. Bang on trend.

Sagittarius: A skiing holiday in one of the lesser Bulgarian resorts leads to an hilarious tragedy. That said, you came second in the Big Air competition. Swings and roundabouts.

Capricorn: You can sense Spring in the air. A night out with Simon Heffer, Kelvin McKenzie & James Delingpole and brings horseplay, horror and climate change denial. Choose your company wisely.

Aquarius: This month the Universe has gone binary on you but it means it -
01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110000 01100101 01101100 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01100011 01110101 01101110 01110100

Pisces: Anger management may become an issue for you in the months ahead with the beginning of an extended Mars transit but the full frontal lobotomy the street kindly chipped in for may help. It’s never 100% is it? You will lose a vital part of what makes you, you.

Till next month!
Keep it fucking tight 'n right. Dunford. X

Thoughts On Love & Smoking podcast #8. Lokier.

Lets get one thing straight. I'm not going all Pankhurst in defence of female DJ's here but lets be honest, the position immediately behind the Technics in nearly every nightclub in the known universe is predominantly manned by, well, a man! The oft repeated mantra of 'Man behind the decks. Woman dancing behind the man.' is as prominent now as it's ever been. Thankfully there are a few notable exceptions (no, we won't even go into the whole Paris Hilton' celebrity DJ thing. We're better than that!) and fortunately, there is always always room for surprise to the open minded.
Yoan Rodriguez aka Lokier is a girl! A girl from Mexico who plays and makes music!! Yoan is not the aforementioned girl who is tossing her hair around, trying to draw attention to herself dancing behind the DJ. No, she's most definitely upfront and center stage. She's the one you see bumping the male DJ's off the decks. She's the one making the freaky slo-mo horror synth records.

‘…I started djing when I was 21 years old at massive clandestine parties, they were dark, scary & illegal. On one of my first performances, as I got on stage, the DJ that played before me was picking up her things and she said: "someone just threw a bottle at my head; good luck". There was no room for mistakes at those parties and they would usually be cut short by the police. I told myself I would make no mistakes, since I didn't want to go home with a black eye. The pressure was too much and I was always very scared. Dj’s kept coming off-stage with blood on their heads… Months later I got offered to play at small bars in nice areas and that’s when I decided that djing was not so bad and that you can actually have fun. ’ – Lokier


Purveyor of moody electronic vibes guaranteed to transform the dancefloor into a scene from a 70’s B movie, Yoan has released tracks on Justin Millar's brilliant 'Have A Killer Time', Days Of Being Wild, Le Dame Noir and Melomana, amongst others. She also recently joined the illustrious ranks of talented producers have a track included in the 'Edit service' series for unber-cool Parisian label 'I’m a cliché.'
Her original tracks gather inspiration from classic synth and electronica sounds and her attraction to the darker corners of music is demonstrated on the mix she's put together for us. Bits of post punk, cold wave and industrial comfortably rub shoulders with techno and disco influences while staying dark as velvet. It's like those textiles by Anni Albers and intricate geometric patterns that force you to get close to follow the lines for several minutes to understand where they come from and where they end.
With her 'She Made Monster' project (alongside longtime friend and musical collaborator Morgan Hammer) due to birth it's first fruits and upcoming shows back in Mexico and then a full US debut tour later this year as well as a bewildering amount of European dates later this year 2016 looks to be a busy one for Yoan!

Edit Service #34 * Lokier.
Lokier on Facebook.
She Made Monster.

Download the mix from our 'HearThis.at' page below.



Till next time.
Big love. Mark. X

The best record label you've (probably) never heard of: Umor Rex.

It’s hard keeping track of record labels in these times we’re living in, especially when you are a fan of a specific niche genre, like drone, ambient, or other more abstract forms of music. Keeping up with what’s hot can be troublesome. Others, on the other hand, seem to not have trouble moving their music and building a strong following.
Umor Rex is a Mexico City based label founded by Daniel Castrejón in the summer of 2006 based on the premise of free downloadable albums by original, exclusive artists. Its parameters were then and there set as wide and as flexible as is possible within the grasslands of experimental music. There is not a single dominant genre in the catalogue and even though a high percentage of the catalog is nearer to the ambient/synthesiser side of music; things as diverse as rock, misty folk sounds, lo-fi and electronica meet and mingle in a casual, natural way.
Umor Rex is a weird record label in a weird situation: it’s both well-known and obscure. You see, I'm assured that not many people in Mexico, where the label is based, know about its existence, even many who would enjoy the sounds they put out. At the same time, Umor Rex is a household name in the international 'experimental' scene, boasting a formidable catalog of talent hailing from the U.S, Canada and Europe that sell out quickly, get rave reviews in respectable publications and newspapers and are sought after by collectors. Among the artists that make up the Umor Rex family are Berlin duo Driftmachine, L.A. analog synth explorer M. Geddes Gengras, Chicago abstractionists Good Willsmith and French sound collage practitioner Félicia Atkinson.

Not merely another label making homemade noise recordings available to the indefatigable completist weirdo, Umor Rex put quality over quantity on all fronts. The label usually puts out vinyl and cassettes in exquisitely designed packages that make for eye-catching objects; labelhead Daniel designs the bulk of the graphic material (he also keeps a print branch focused on photography books).
Furthermore, a typical release by the label is made up of sounds that you mostly likely won’t find anywhere else; they range from soundscapes conjured from carefully built electronic instruments that push the boundaries of timbre and texture, to explorations that defy form, rhythm, and even 'rules' of established avant-garde schools. Simply put, Umor Rex are presenting some of the most advanced sound artists in the world.
This was evident in the recent Boiler Room Upfront mix which Umor Rex founder, Castrajón headed up. A set that etches the label's forthcoming anthology through 44 minutes of 100% in-house releases. Pure aural hypnosis instigated.

Started initially as a netlabel by Castrejón, the original inspiration was to put out music made by local artists without an outlet, like bedroom folk hero Molloy and His Bike, noise miscreants The New Parallelogramers, downtempo tweaker Drugs Made Me Smarter, and experimental flautist Wilfrido Terrazas. After taking a break of sorts in 2008, the label was relaunched to do physical releases, starting with White Thunder by German post-folk pop exponents The Human Elephant. Since then, the focus has shifted to an international roster (with exceptions like Cian, featuring former Parallelogramer Kevin Altamirano) that provides unique music for those tired of the same old.

With a distribution deal with cult Chicago label Thrill Jockey and praise from selected and influential voices, Umor Rex is a label that deserves recognition everywhere, and will probably become the stuff of legends if it keeps delivering this level of quality in vanguard music.



Twitter
Facebook
Soundcloud
Website
Bandcamp

Till next time.
Big Love. Mark. X

Thoughts On Love & Smoking podcast #7. 12 Inčų Po Žeme (Smala)

Lithuania's post-Soviet surprise package Vilnius has been rapidly making a case for itself being one of the 'must visit' destinations for forward looking travellers in eastern europe of recent. You can wander through the beautiful 13th-century Old Town admiring the ancient buildings if that's your own touristy choice of course, but away from all the usual holiday trappings it's making it's name with everything from investigative journalism to post-modern architecture to IT start-ups and Michelin star eateries.Vilnius isn’t just tower blocks, trench coats and snow. Oh no.
It's here that DJ's - Billy Kristal & Killl My Disco, otherwise known as 12 Inčų Po Žeme (translating to '12 inches under'), together with their close friend Manfredas, started their night 'Smala'. It's been described as 'The Baltic Hacienda' and a club night in Twin Peaks. Consistently bringing top-level international house and techno talent to the Lithuanian capital. Since it's inception it's played host to the likes of Ivan Smagghe, Gabe Gurnsey, Chloe, Clement Meyer, Raudive. Red Axes, Tomas More, It's A Fine Line, Matt Walsh and Daniel Avery. Which in anyone's book is a veritable who's who of heavy hitters!

12 Inčų Po Žeme fit perfectly into the frame here as they are cut very much from the same freewheeling, non-conformist musical cloth as their friend (and previous podcast contributor) Manfredas.
I've been a huge fan of all these guys for a few years now. Their sets cover that cold-blooded narco-disco, dark-hearted house which seem to be permeating the walls of Europe's best clubs. Moody, slow techno & analogue electro jams combined with an anything goes sensibility.
But this is all by the by, after all 'talking about music is like dancing to architecture' so I'll shut the fuck up now and let the music do the talking. It's with great pleasure that we give to you the 7th in our podcast series, another absolutely flawless effort all the way from Eastern Europe courtesy of Smala residents '12 Inčų Po Žeme'.
Enjoy!

Further listening:

Smala Radio.
12 Inčų Po Žeme on Mixcloud.



You can also download the mix from our 'Hearthis.at' page simply by clicking on the link below!

Thoughts On Love & Smoking podcast #7. 12 Inčų Po Žeme. (Smala) by Thoughts On Love And Smoking on hearthis.at

Till next time.
Big love. Mark. X