Youth Against Fascism

i remember being at the zodiac club in oxford with fitz, dancing in the pink light at the back while the cold cut brothers tore the place UP. they got surgical on the wheels of steel, mixing rock n' roll and opera and incidental bits from soul songs--handclaps and shouting and shit...at one point my bloody valentine flowed under run d.m.c. like water under a bridge.

it was '96 everyone was sweating...rolling...but not me, i was prolly just drunk. i remember fitz's hair was soaking wet. anyway, one song fades out and everything gets quiet, and for a minute or two, all you heard was the pop of the needle on the record. than, suddenly, there's an impossibly low bass note struck by a gravelly human voice that comes thundering acapella through the gigantic speakers on the wall. a chill ran up my spine. the man talked in a tough voice about america becoming powerful again...a new morning in america or some shit like that. everyone was laughing and cheering even as their hair stood on end. it brought me back, hearing that dried-up war mongerer's voice.

my first president was reagan.

his cowboy vibe made me think of america, and all the things that were wrong with it...but if nothing else we were at least out of those dark ages.

at the end cold cut tweaked the voice, comically yanked it back and forth before disintegrating the sound until it was only a hummmmmmmmmmmm

(ashes to ashes)

above which, a beat started. it was a fresh hip-hop beat, old school and immediately recognizable.

yo, yo, yo, i said, pushing my way through the steaming crowd and up to the turntables...

(dust to dust)

lemme have the mic...i said.

the ceiling was ringing with beats

just gimme the mic for a minute...i yelled out

and when i was startin to think no one heard me

or gave a fuck,

it got passed over the crowd

a golden baton

some duck tape on the bottom...




it was on.




today is anti day.

everyone, taker easy.

big ups on yr berfday, baby.