The Stool Pigeon

A short photo essay from Carnival by Jodi Burian

Still a real London day out, and always fun to piss on people’s houses in Notting Hill.

Popularity: 5% [?]

Free Drum Cunt Download

In his various guises, the gentleman who goes by the name Drum Cunt has been on this paper's radar since day one. In his goodness, he's slung this little beauty our way for you to enjoy.

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XXXO - M.I.A (DrumCunt refix)

Download the track (right click, save as)

Plenty more Drum Cunt stuff to trouble your bowels here.

Popularity: 10% [?]

Stockists please

This is real easy. We're always on the hunt for more places to stock the paper. If there's a venue/shop/club/pub/laundrette/brothel near you that you think needs to have the paper to give away, please email info@thestoolpigeon.co.uk

Much obliged.

Popularity: 4% [?]

Stop David Gray from covering Burial’s Archangel

Sayeth Cyrus: "In a recent edition of the Sunday Times, bearded balladeer David Gray admitted to working on an unplugged cover of Burial’s Archangel.

"'It took a while for this music to hit home,' he said, 'but a loud, messed-up listen in the back of the tour bus completely unlocked it for me. I’m working on an acoustic version.'

"I’ve nothing personal against David Gray. He’s always seemed an affable guy with a knack for knocking out a catchy tune. But I’m begging him, on behalf of everyone who sees Burial as a fortress of creative integrity in an industry defined by cut-and-paste scenester bullsh*t, to leave Archangel well alone."

For more info and to sign up, head here

Popularity: 8% [?]

Norwegian Would: An adventure in disconnection at Slottsfjell festival

As you approach Oslo from the south by air, the archipelago below astonishes. Countless green islands seem to stretch to the horizon, some connected to each other by bridges and some standing alone. It’s a magnificent sight and for the people down there, life is good - these islands provide holiday homes for Norway’s affluent (and a shamefully idyllic base for Slottsfjell’s delegates and press).

This vista seems remote and mysterious in that uniquely bleak Scandinavian way. Yet across the way on the mainland is Tønsberg, an equally well-heeled industrial town that’s been hosting Slottsfjell festival for eighth years. Slottsfjell may not be Traena, the most remote festival in the world, but for an outsider at least, to attend this event is to experience a dreamlike bubble of disconnection and wonderment. Maybe it’s the big skies that never get truly dark or the Norwegian hospitality that often feels unfeasibly generous, but Slottsfjell is like an adventure in utopia – a Narnia or a Brigadoon. It feels like Tønsberg and its surrounding isles don’t exist except for one weekend in July every year.

And then there’s the music. In Norway, quite simply, everyone likes everything – there is an attractively factionless approach to music. In the taxi to the festival a mainstream station played death metal alongside some Nordic pop sensation, some gangster rap and even a show tune. At Slottsfjell, this pluralism reigns supreme. Some might say it prevents the festival from establishing a firm identity, which is true to an extent, but the atmosphere and setting ensures the event maintains a firm personality.

Of the overseas acts, Belle and Sebastian, Kelis, Dinosaur Jr, Juliette Lewis, Foals and Teenage Fanclub were meant to be the big draws. Yet this festival would be just as fantastic if it relied on Scandinavian talent alone. On day one, The Middle East, from Townsville, Australia, provided a fairly dull take on Springsteen-y folk-rock (perhaps seeing them over Dum Dum Girls was the wrong decision), before, according to the programme, “Norway’s most brutal band”, The Cumshots made an appearance.

This snarling dog of a band make a violent kind of metal, but the real attraction is singer Kristopher Schau: a notorious Norwegian personality who locals claims as their own warped version of Johnny Knoxville. He leaps into the crowd to be baptised in Heineken, screams about his love for his mother between songs and triumphantly embraces a stage invader; all befitting a man who reportedly once cut off one of his own moles, fried it and ate it. The word ‘irony’ is bandied about in relation to this band, yet this mostly seemed like inane aggression, not even attractive in its deliberate gratuity. They made Band Of Skulls, on earlier, look like geniuses.

It was because of this big draw that genteel Swedish sweethearts Taxi Taxi received an audience of about 10, although the teenage sisters – distinctly more profound artists that the comparable First Aid Kit – seemed blissfully ignorant of their irrelevance, while their bare, simple songs were just blissful.

Foals were predictable though well-received, but it was a Norwegian at the smallest stage that provided the highlight of the first day, and the second best set of the whole festival. Nils Bech is one for parties. Accompanied by a mix of electro-disco backing tracks and a live saxophonist, and with ladders on stage for him to climb up and down on, Bech is an engrossing pixie of a performer, wiggling and cavorting about the stage as he sings his songs mostly about life on the gay club circuit, with one song, the excellent ‘Vagabond Girl’, thrown in to prove his chops as a balladeer. Bech is groped by members of the crowd and strips down to a pair of tight denim shorts by the end of the show. He is imperious and brings an unflinching confidence to his deliberately over-camp performance art, instilled by his background as an opera singer.

Unlike every UK festival you will ever go to, there is not a single waft of marijuana drifting in the breeze at Slottsfjell. Apparently the police take a brutally hard line on it, thus people get very, very drunk indeed. Yet still, the masses are impossibly friendly.

Day two was slightly patchier. A truly desperate set from Peckham rapper Giggs (wobbly and repetitive delivery, over-emphasis on his ‘hustler’ background between songs) set a mild tone of dreariness that was alleviated by Hayseed Dixie, massive in Norway, it seems. Hayseed are seemingly exempt from criticism, as it would be pointless and churlish to do anything but be swept up in their bawdy nonsense. They’re perfectly placed in a sunny mid-afternoon slot and you can’t deny them their fun.

Impressive Finnish punk duo Jaakko and Jay maintained the high-octane vibe, before Kelis came along for her half an hour. Yes, half an hour. Not only was her set brief, but she had no vocals for nearly all of her first song, no bass for even longer and these days she insists on performing ‘Milkshake’ as an inexplicable mash-up with Madonna’s ‘Holiday’. It was all a wishy-washy dry fuck, and the Tønsberg throngs deserved an awful lot more.

The final day, Saturday, was as eclectic as ever. Sweden’s Veronica Maggio meandered through her wistful and accomplished pop while heavily pregnant, and later on Lissie attracted one of the largest audiences at the second stage. The young American, while looking as if she should be a floaty nymph in thrall to Joni Mitchell, in fact makes rather dull indie, and her nondescript set was nothing memorable.

Arguably, day three peaked too early. Teenage Fanclub wheeled out the requisite old favourites, but anyone who came soon after Norwegian metal gods Enslaved were fighting a losing battle. It seemed as if the acts performing on other stages had to stop what they were doing to listen – the whole site was engulfed by their shuddering noise. There was a palpable relief when they finished.

But this special festival eventually topped even that. Wardruna are made up of former members of black metal crew Gorgoroth, now exploring the more discerning realm of Nordic traditional music. This was essentially a folk act, albeit one with an ominous electric drone to them and a vague aura of satanic unease. The unsettlingly beautiful combination of vocals between singers Kvitrafn, Gaahl and Lindy Fay Hella seemed to summon the ‘old gods’, and Slottsfjell was still in the grip of their bewitchment way beyond the end of their set, by which point the festival was drifting into the small hours on its final night and the waking dream was over, to be remembered hazily as a long, strange trip.

Barnaby Smith

Popularity: 22% [?]

Pigeon v. Pigeon

Buy your own! Hit up the shoppe. Ha-cha-cha-cha.

Popularity: 5% [?]

Prince Zimboo strikes again

Biggie Smalls fans will recognise the beat to this new gem from the Prince, 'Zimboouicy!'. Priceless stuff.

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Prince Zimboo - Zimboouicy!

No idea who Prince Zimboo is? Here's a wee piece from an old Pigeon:

Ever wondered why the sea's salty? It's because the octopus is getting
naughty. So says Prince Zimboo on his brilliant signature track, 'To The
Rescue'. He doesn't drink water because fish have sex in it and he's always
grinning. Sound unusual? You should see him at a funeral. He's already saved
Bobby from Whitney and now he's going to save you. If you ignore the message
in his song, you are like "masturbating fish". Heh.

'To The Rescue' (sometimes called 'Say Heh'), cut on the sparse 'Pop
Champagne' beat, is fast becoming a cult smash on the internet.
International beat hunter Diplo posted it on his blog and it started to
spread. He has many other genius songs too. 'I Love J.A.' begins with a
lyric about how a woman who doesn't want to be his thousandth wife is lying
to herself...

Hold on there, Zimboo! You have 999 wives? "Yes yes, 500 in Africa, the rest
worldwide, this is true. I love them and they love me too."

Prince Zimboo says he's the son of The Most Grinnerable King Agindiboop and
Queen Amimil Abakunamabooba of Dbush in Africa. Um, Dbush? "Where North
Africa meets South Africa, there is a thin layer of impenetrable rainforest
called Dbush. It is a magical sacred region which does not appear on any map
- is true, this no crap."

He ended up in Jamaica via England. "It was always a dream of mine to prove
myself in the region where the music originated," he says. "So, heh, to
Jamaica I reach! Many DJ in Jamaica Prince Zimboo teach... HEH!"

Now he's determined to go global, and Diplo is helping: "He voted it as one
of the best tracks of last year, which is amazing since it's not even
released till this year."

But what of water? Do you really never drink it? "I drank water recently,"
he confesses, "but it was straight from the mouth of the spring at the
mountain, not from a fountain. In it no fish to make splish splish!"

Popularity: 11% [?]

Mo’ props from The Guardian

Header: "The Stool Pigeon's King Canute-like stand against the digital tide."

Subhead: "Maggoty Lamb applauds the Stool Pigeon's continued success and wonders if the telephone interview is due for an upgrade."

Body copy: here

First comment: "bleh, hipster landfill."

Nice.

Popularity: 8% [?]