Rizzle Kicks

Introducing Rizzle Kicks. These two cool kids from Brighton, UK, have been around for a while, circa 2008, making music that's both cutesy and witty. Upbeat music that makes the listener feel similar - lively and a little immature at times.

I stumbled across these guys through a Facebook upload of their smooth relaxing tune 'Miss Cigarette'. This was a good first encounter with the duo - it's classic Rizzle Kicks. Harley sings a sweet hook over a 60s reminiscent sample, while Rizzle raps in his casual tone that makes you feel like he's talking straight to you sometimes. The catchy song isn't just one that gets your head bopping but it also makes you giggle when you realise they're singing/rapping about cigarettes, likening the habit of smoking to being in love with a girl who is 'bad for you'.

Babe honestly/

It appears you're bad for my health and a quick way to poverty/

They've definitely done a good job with this one. A smart and catchy song with an old skool sample of sorts caught in the middle there somewhere - just what I like to hear. The video was also done pretty well, the guys are easy to watch and the editing/directing is done perfectly. The whole combination of the song itself, the boys and the video left a very positive impression on me.

I went on the watch a bit more of Rizzle Kicks, a few more amazingly put together videos - 'Down With The Trumpets' and 'When I Was a Youngster'. Going on, I can't say I was disappointed, but I don't think I got any more impressed with the duo as I was initially. The songs are all sweet beated with a memorable hook sung by Harley over a piano/big band sample, with Rizzle doing a prrrrrretty good job of spitting verses that alternate in flow and are full of clever ideas.

There's no denying these two young dudes have targetted a specific genre and they've done a good job in delivering an album full of thumbs up worthy songs ('Stereo Typical', 2011). The album and small releases they've done on a few mixtapes show that the pair are a talented one. Harley's voice is comparable to Pharell Williams at times - smooth in delivery and mysterious nearly. He gives off a cool relaxed vibe in the videos I've seen, almost like he's chilling out and woops, there's his cue to pop in with a la de da. Rizzle's rapping is actually pretty legit. It took me a while to realise but he's got some dope flow; it's never the same and he delivers seamlessly. I definitely get the vibe that he 'runs the show' to an extent - I saw a few interviews and he does all the talking - but in a way, it suits him to be the frontman whereas Harley's casual vibe suits his laidback attitude in both interviews and the videos.

I have only two concerns. One is that you get a feel for their age as musicians in their videos. Big ups for doing so well at such a young age, but you get a feeling they're still adapting to it all. Rizzle is very outgoing and forward, but it's almost too much at times. Maybe a little too much over acting in the vids? This isn't too much of a bad thing, they're music is so impressive that I can almost guarantee they'll be around for a bit longer, and no doubt, they'll learn how to get better at presenting themselves. More concerning for me is that there isn't much variety between all the songs and it gets a bit too similar and super familiar after listening to more than a few songs in a row. Not dissing the dudes at all, I love it, but they definitely need some variance to keep their audience on edge. I was excited to come across 'You Need Me, I Don't Need You', featuring the lovable and talented ginga Ed Sheehan. It was definitely different to the rest of their stuff because it wasn't as preppy.

All up, I definitely suggest you take the plunge and get some Rizzle Kicks in ya playlist. It's that kind of music that puts a wee jump in your step, and it's fantastic chill out music. It's best scrambled into a massive playlist, so you don't get too much of it one after the other, because it does get a tiiiiny bit repetitive. But otherwise - go for gold! It's that feel good stuff that's worth a whirl.



Miss Cigarette - Rizzle Kicks

So many people say why are you with her/
And I’m like; she’s a damn good kisser/
She feeds my addiction/
She leaks something different/

Happy Birthday C.Bear!

You would have noticed that Claire Hansell (aka C.Bear) has been mentioned more than a couply times throughout the blog. She's one of my close mates who celebrates her 22nd birthday today (girrrrl, you old as fuck!).

I met her in the weird crossroads that is friends of friends, a few years back, and somehow she's become a permanent piece of furniture in my life. A very nice piece of furniture. We've had some hiiiilarious times and some awkward times, but none the less, I love this woman with a whole chunk of my heart.

She moved into my life when Jessii and I were living at the 579C-Unit in Kingsland. I don't know how our friendship grew to the stage where I would txt her on the way home from work to see what she was up to, and she would reply, "Sitting outside your house smoking, waiting for you to get home", but it became some sort of ritual that I thoroughly enjoyed. Gossip, debriefing, venting and goofing around over a tea and ciggy is all part of the ritual that I miss immensely.

Nights out in AK City have been way too many to count but C.Bear has often volunteered to sober drive my drunk ass - not always being the best of sober drivers because a) it's a struggle for the woman to turn down a drink, b) she's not always hard enough on my ass when it's home time or when I'm skeezing on the grossest guy in the club, and c) BAN117 - her g'ride - isn't always the most reliable of vehicles! But all the same, the giggles we've had are some of the best. Quotes like "We stay out til 6am because we weren't allowed out until we were 18 unlike you pakehas ok!", "I win *hair flick*", and, "Heyyyy... Do you thinkkkk... You guys are getting pretty serious?" are all quotes that we still use in every day conversation close to two years on today.

One of the things that I love about the woman is that she's genuinely a good bitch. She's picked me up from the most out of it places at all hours, has shouted me food when I'm poor - even if it's noodles from Dorma's pantry, and she's always willing to lend an ear. She's too nice for her own good sometimes I would say! Not only to me, but to everyone she's mates with. I would confidently put my last fifty bucks on a bet that Claire has picked every one of our crew up at some ridiculous hour from somewhere. Respect!

So bubbaganoosh! Happy mother fucking birthday! Miss you heaps and wish I could be there to celebrate with you, but ahhhh well, you're not that exciting anyway :)

This one's dedicated to you xxx

If We Ever Meet Again - Timbaland & Katy Perry

Did you come alone/

Or did you bring all your friends/

(Claire, you came alone didn't you?)

x

Feel Good Kids - It's Summer!

What the fuck!? It’s December peeps! December means Christmas, December means my birthday, December means New Years, but most of all, December means SUMMER. I love summer more than my mother (not really Mama Gut, it’s all for effect). There’s just something about the season that triggers so many happy feelings and positive emotions for me, and those happy and positive vibes lead to a happy and positive Pele.

The epitome of summer was best described this time last year, when Jessii, Dove and I were soaking up a few rays and a few beers on the deck at Royal Terrace – “All I need is my two best mates, a few brews, Six60 and the sun.” Never a truer word spoken I would say! Of course, Six60 isn’t any sort of compulsory choice of phat beat, but on that beaut day last year, it was the best choice. I’ve been flicking through my iPod this week and I’m utterly embarrassed at how shit I’ve been at keeping up to date with new music this year. I’m still listening to last year’s summer jams – oh the shame! But in saying that, these jams are absolute classics. They aren’t only last summer’s jams, but most of them are true traditional summer beats since at least 2009. So in tribute to the classics, I suggest you make sure the following tracks make an appearance in your summer playlist. They make such a difference – the kind that triggers the happy feelings and positive outlook on life that oozes the summer buzz.

You Get Me - The Black Seeds

Dutchies - Shapeshifter

Collie Herb Man - Katchafire

Desperado - Six60

Skankenstein - Kora

The Seed 2.0 - The Roots

Little Secrets - Passion Pit

Indulge Me - David Dallas

Trick Me - Kelis*

Me, Myself and I - De La Soul

One - Shapeshifter

Pop Your Bottle - Kora
Life Gets Better - Ed Solo & Skool of Thought

Good God, just listened to a few of these goodies in anticipation and excitement and I’m going to sleep a happy lil lass. Don't be fooled, there are so many more phat beats that get the old endorphins pumping, but these are definitely Class A feel good drugs that I'm addicted to December through February.

*Note: resurrected from the iTunes basement and yes, it’s still AMAZING and the video is still AMAZINGER.

Trick me - Kelis

I used to be down with the late night hit

Happy summer to you, and you, and especially you xxx

"It is usually more important how a man meets his fate, than what it is" - Karl Wilhelm van Humboldt.

Fate is a trippy concept. I don't really know what I believe, in regards to fate, destiny and everything happening for a reason. Whether everything is written before it ever happens, whether that chance meeting was actually by chance, or whether every single life experience is all apart of a huge plan that some greater being has put in place.

To some extent, I do believe that everything happens for a reason. It's a pretty good cop-out philosophy to hold, when I think about it, because it forces us to believe that there's always good in every shit situation we may find ourselves in. We need to believe that there is, otherwise we'd all be down and out, depressed beings, listening to Evanesence on repeat, never waiting for the next best thing (nothing against a bit of Evanescence). But whether it was meant to happen, as part of some bigger picture, I'm not totally sure of. The ups and downs of life are supposed to be inevitable, that's what life is. Is it all just a learning curve? Why do we need them? We're all going to die one day.

Chance meetings buzz me DA fuck out. Is this small world I find myself in, the same as everyone else's? To a point, I would say it's Auckland and New Zealand that's 'too' small, but how is it that in another country, I can meet a total stranger who turns out to be mates with an old flatmate of mine? This chance meeting was through a mutual Auckland friend, so as much as that blew my mind, I could still put it down to Auckland's small population and level of connections. How is it possible though, that a guy I had no one in common with, who just happened to turn up at a party I was at, at least five years my senior, turn out to be ex-neighbours of a guy I pretty much grew up with, living just up the road from my family home? Is it all by chance?

Fate, destiny, chance - it's all been on the brain for the past few weeks and I can't get over the words alone. It's easy to believe that everything happens for a reason, but it's much harder to believe that we're all playing parts in this game and that there's a greater meaning behind these chance meetings and the positions we find ourselves in. Fate is one trippy concept for sure. Maybe I'm still utterly hungover and took a few too many drugs over the weekend because it's burning a hole in my small brain to understand whether there is actually a difference between fate and chance. I'm still going to lose sleep over the idea of it all the next time I find myself questioning a chance meeting.

Crooklyn Dodgers 95 - 'Return of the Crooklyn Dodgers'

Subliminal hypnotism and colonialism/

Leaves most niggas dead or in prison/

Cheeeeeeers for bringing back the real hip hop Harry. Can't get enough.

The Controversial Cigarette

I had my first real puff of a cigarette when I was about 13 with Sarah Taylor, down the back of a primary school before a rehearsal for a play we were in. When I say ‘first real puff’, I’m omitting the two weeks of hustling poor little Hayley O’Conner at school in the year below us for the cigarettes she used to steal from her Mum to sell to the older girls. Because it wasn’t until I had my first real puff that I realised I had been bum puffing those hustled ciggys for the whole two weeks behind the bush in intermediate with my little shit crew. We got caught and put on level two detention for two weeks, which I now think of as hilarious because I wasn’t even smoking was I? I was inhaling and pushing the smoke out before it even hit the back of my throat. All those after school DT’s durasealing library books just for the rush of being a badass, not even smoking. I knew it was a ‘real’ puff with Sarah Taylor because I had to suppress the cough that was tearing through my chest, and I nearly passed out walking back to rehearsal – the head rush got me good.

I haven’t always been a smoker. After the stint in form 2, I ‘quit’ (if you could even call it that). Throughout the remaining school years, I’d scab a few drags from some of the girls if I could, after school by Britomart (one smoke between 6), but besides that, I was never one of the hardcore smokers who got their older siblings to buy them a pack of B&H. And I definitely don’t think I was addicted to smoking throughout school. It wasn’t until I went flatting when I was 18 that I picked up the dirty habit to a full-time extent and became addicted. Maybe it was the fact that I could even buy cigarettes at all that made me take it up. Maybe it was the fact that Teu and I had some of the best chats on the back deck, tea and ciggy in hand. Maybe it was a sweet pick up line – for mates, not guys. It seems to bring people together I think. Or maybe it was because I was bored. Either way, I was spending $10.80 a week on Dunhill blues to whip out when I had a spare moment or two. I stopped for a while, partly because I became too poor to buy my own pack, and partly because I moved into a place with a non-smoker and didn’t have a buddy to jam with. But I never strayed completely from the lazy ciggy here and there. I only took it back up over the past year.

My parents hate it. I still don’t have the balls to smoke in front of them and I’m nearly twenty-two for goodness’ sake! They know I do, but I think they’d prefer to pretend I don’t. My Mum often asks me casually if I’ve started smoking again, and I tell her I only have one or two if I’m going out. Funny that she accepts that answer when I was going out Wednesday through Saturday without fail in Auckland, and she was the one washing my smoke drenched clothes. My Dad is absolutely sickened by it. His parents were both smokers and died from lung failure. I think the 21^st speech he gave me was aimed at anti-smoking. I think. Anyone who was there is probably just as unclear as me, because he was pissed off his nut and thought it would be a good idea to give the speech in gibberish for all the gibberish folk in the house.

One of my best friends hates it. She thinks it’s a sickly, gay past time and doesn’t know why I do it. I’ve never seen her even touch a cigarette and we lived together for nearly four years. She never aggressively encouraged me to give up. She merely took the piss out of me when I was sitting out in the cold and rain, breathing in all that toxic air while she sat inside enjoying Big Bang Theory. We’d joke about the possibility of me catching a cold on top of my emphysema. Most of my other friends are smokers, or at least socially smoke, so I hardly hear anything about giving up from them, unless we’re hungover – “Bro, smoked so much last night and bought another pack while we were out. Worst headache ever and now broke. We should probably give up.”

My boyfriend* hates it. We broke up once and when we got back together, he asked me to quit. I said yes. I lasted less than a day. I’m going to say I lied.

Smoking is such a controversial habit, and I genuinely don’t know why. Sure, it’s kind of not good for the environment, but so is driving your Nissan Pulsar to uni everyday. Sure, it’s unhealthy, but so is all the coke you drink. Sure, it’s ‘unattractive’, but I’m not trying to impress you. If you’re worried about the second hand smoke, piss off and leave me to die alone in peace, I’m not asking you to inhale my sloppy seconds with me. There are so many more reasons why smoking is controversial, and I can see why it is, but please don’t judge me because I like a late night cigarette with my tea.

It’s not our future.

*Boyfriend: my significant other who I’m not really sure knows whether I still call him my boyfriend. Lol.

Wu-Tang Killahhh & Douchebaggyish Behaviour

Homegirl Jessii came over to spend a weekend with me and Wu-Tang. So good to see my soul sistah, and even better with Wu-Tang on the cards - our number one fave.

Of course, with me involved, there were some douchebaggyish calls that were made. A couple that I'm pretty embarassed about. Who would have thought I could have fucked up so much in one weekend?

Douchebaggyish Call Uno Numero:
I didn't eat anything substantial all day Friday - the day Jessii arrived. What was I thinking? To be fair, I was literally sick with excitment all day. I drank about 3L of tea to accompany the one and a half packs of Marlboroughs I smoked (which by the way, are considered fancy here - upper class PGut!). Nana Napped after work because I was wriggling with impatience by then. And only managed to squeeze in a McChicken and fries on the way to the hotel from the airport because they happened to be on offer. Uhhh yeah, big boo boo PGut - by vodka number 2 I'm going to say I was pissed. Only because I'm extremely groggy on what happened after vodka number 2. Cheers Duty Free and J-Rei for fucking me up so early in the adventure.

Douchebaggyish Call Dos:
Fast forward five hours and I have some recollection of using my Mastercard to top up at 4am over the phone. It took me half an hour. Thirty minutes to use the simple phone top up system using Mastercard. THIRTY MINUTES. Lying in bed. No movement or commotion... Just chilling there in bed, gasbagging with Jessii, trying to top up my phone. I'd like to see some transactional history of how many times I entered my card number etc. The amount of time it took me to do this is only part of the douchebaggyish behaviour. The real douchebaggyish call was doing it at all. Jessii and I then proceeded to go through both of our contacts lists and call half of the Auckland population, I'm guessing, at 6.30am (NZT). Sorry to the victims that we woke up so early, but we clearly thought you ought to know we had been reunited, were drunk, and missed you. I woke up Saturday morning with $4.76 credit left. I had $150.00 when I finally managed to top up at 4.30am. Douchebag.

Douchebaggyish Call Tres:
Subway. Someone told me that Subway here is not a good idea. I was suprisingly up and about doing shit Saturday morning by 10am - strolling down the road to buy toothpaste and coffee and cigarettes and shit. Clearly still drunk maybs? Anyway, despite the warnings of a friend who I had spoken to minutes prior to walking past the local Subway, I thought I'd give it a chance. I shouldn't have. Subway is supposed to be like McDonald's right? Universal. It's supposed to be the same everywhere. Boy was I disappointed. Melbourne Subway, you suck mate. There was a lovely bloke behind the counter who greeted me just the way a still drunk PGut likes to be greeted at Subway - "Hello Ma'am, I'm Ken, I'll be your sandwich maker today" - how bloody lovely I thought! Melb - 1, Akl - Nil. All downhill from here. Bread - shit. Chicken - shit. Salads - suuuper shit. Like I said to Jessii though (when I got home and packed a sook about how horrible it was), it wasn't like I just happened to get a bad sandwich that day. Through the counter window, I could see that all of the salads looked shit. The cucumber and pickles were dry, the lettuce was struggling, the tomatoes were the gross powdery kind - it wasn't like Ken made a bad choice. Subway here just obviously isn't fresh. Hungover giggles meant Subway in Melbourne is now called Bumway - the only upside to this douchebaggyish call.

Douchebaggyish Call Cuatro:
Yes, it still gets worse. Much worse. Finally time to get up and at 'em and get crankin' for Wu-Tang Killahhh! Kicked the hangover and sorted ourselves out, excitement levels through the roof, get down in da Gravel Pit was all I wanted to do. Then I got an inkling to ask to see J-Rei's ticket. Wuh-oh. You guessed it homeslice, I bought the wrong fucking ticket. Who buys an upper-circle seated ticket to Wu-Tang? Duh, I do! I would just LOVE to chill up in the top circle, sitting down, grooving to a bit of Shimmy Shimmy Yo! Don't ask me how I did it, but I did, and there wasn't really anything I could do about it. Besides cry. Thank God, Allah and the Notorious B.I.G, there was a douchebag at the pre-drinks we went to who was just as douchebaggyish as me and bought the same damn ticket. Got a few drinks in me and I was good to jam with my new mate Rob in the seated upper circle (totes nickname basis). Sidenote: BEST. PRE-DRINKS. EVER. Too many lols, too little time. Just know that by the time we got on the road to Wu, I did not give a fuck, was in the highest spirits and ready to rage, despite my stupidity.

Douchebaggyish Call Cinco:
Two words. Mushy caps. One more word. Unknowingly. Old PGut decided she'd play the bigtime with the big boys and downed a mushy cap did she? Yes she did... And only found out that she did so after four hours of tripping balls,clueless as to why she was. Speaking giberish and talking a whole lot of shit, PGut has learnt her lesson - just because everyone else is doing it, doesn't mean you have to babe. I genuinely did not know there were mushy caps anywhere, until the bully mother fucker who gave it to me mentioned it at 5am. Cheeeeeers to you and ya family Aston.

Douchebaggyish Call Seis:
Passing out in a hotel room that isn't yours, with a comedian in the mix of people there, is not advised. I woke up with chairs stacked on top me, caging me in. I don't think I was in the chair cage for long, but I'm going to say it was payback for talking non-stop jibber jabber for three hours while Mr. Sorrell was trying to sleep. Blaming the mushy caps.

Douchebaggyish Call Siete:
An hour and a half of public transport hungover and coming down with a few hours sleep is not ideal and is definitely classed as douchebaggyish behaviour. Enough said.


So! My first real rager in Melbourne and I'm no where near as cool as I thought I'd feel. Had the best time with J-Rei and the others I raged with over the weekend. And Wu-Tang was pretty fucking cool, now that I've had decent flashbacks of Rob and I going loco over a few songs. I seemed to think they weren't AH-MAY-ZING, right after the concert... But the seated upper circle will do that to ya I guess! Douchebaggyish behaviour!

This is dedication right here.
I'm gonna say the token black guy, back right corner, told them 'Wu Tang' translates to 'The Best' in his language. Well played son.

Fiji Baby

The crew has decided on a Fiji New Years. We've confirmed our accomodation and are booking our flights in the next few weeks. Cannot even explain how excited I am for it!!!!! It's basically our legit little crew, the realists - about 16 of us. A few of us were a little concerned that it will be the first New Years we'll be having without raging rails and badass benders - someone (no names mentioned) considered bum smuggling (fits of laughter), but come on girl, we can do this - I'm actually looking forward to spending some quality time (in full states of mind) with my friends that I miss so super bad. Will be a good chance to get plain old fucking drunk too. Hurrah for pool bars because we all know I'm a salt water pussy.

Goodshirt - Fiji Baby

Yep I'll just pretend it's Fiji baby

No pretending here Goodshirt! Fucking Bula!