Sunday, November 09, 2008


When most superstar DJs sire an heir, they normally drop off the radar, flog their rare analogue synths on eBay and spend the next 18 months complaining about the rising cost of nappies and having to spend hours in front of ITV Nightscreen, trying to rock the whelp to sleep.

Sorry, but I'm on the baby's side. I was a right cunt as a brateen. Used to yowl the place down. There wasn't even any bloody ITV Nightscreen to watch back in '76 - the (three) TV stations used to close down at 11pm or something - but, what the hell! I was awake, everyone else was snoring away and dreaming of angels or winning the pools or whatever, and I never asked to be born anyway. As far as I was concerned, the bastards could just rouse themselves from their pits and carry me around until 5am, while I vocally issued my disgust at the cruel and blighted planet I'd wound up on! I'd teach that damn woman to gestate ME...

Yep, once the cord's been cut, most DJs think enough's enough and put their tune-making on hold while they familiarise themselves with the bizarre world of Farleys Rusks and green excrement. Some of them never return.

But not Jim Backhausen! No sooner has his kid popped his head thru the curtains, and the placenta been tossed into a frying pan with a generous bundle of sliced onions and Worcester sauce, than XYLITOL returns in full glory with a new spectral track, Ghost Office. Anyway, it's at the end of the post, so crank your speakers up.

First time I played this, I kept expecting to wake up deep within the bowels of the Large Hadron Collider, with frantic scientists trying to restrain an intruder armed with a giant monkey wrench who's yelling, "FOOLS! ATTEMPTING TO RE-CREATE THE BIG BANG...IT'S LUNACY, MAN! YOU TAMPER WITH FORCES YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY HOPE TO UNDERSTAND! THE EXPERIMENT MUST BE HALTED!" Or in the Khartoum flat of yet another nuclear physicist who's died in completely fucking nutso circumstances... rifling through his drawers for clues, unearthing disturbing, underdeveloped photos of what looks like people bearing plants on dark tube station platforms. Either way, don't let my mental illness detract from what's a brilliant track.

Slightly more melancholic and longer than previous Xylitol tunes and none the worse for it. Come on, release the bloody thing, you lazy git. We all know Magz did the hard bit.

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