Home Contact Us Archive              
 
 

Do Drugs make you more creative?

By Bernie Bostik



Here is a sample of my music that i make whilst being extremely high on weed and if that's not being creative on drugs then I don't know what is. But I could of done this music without being stoned, so you've only got my word on that. So lets jib the music for a minute and lets concentrate on the writing and see if that can help us  answer the question 'Do drugs make you more creative?' To help us out lets look at two introductions explaining my music, both written by me, one i done stoned,  the other i done straight. I was in two minds about which one to put up to accompany my music. So I thought i would post up both and let you guess which one I done stoned and which one I done straight........


1.
This is me chonged up on green, twiddling a few knobs and pushing a few buttons (badly).
Not to everyone's taste.....but fuck it!

2.
The whole concept for my music comes to me in many different dreamy guises whilst sleeping at night. As these beeps and buzzes enter my head I transform them with the help of the laptop at the side of my bed, into many earth shattering noises. Dodecahedrons of beats flutter in and out of my train of thought all night long, then as  i enter some zombie trance like state these beats enter my my blood stream and run towards my heart. I get over took with zombie beat blood as it rushes around my body getting spewed out by the beat of the heart. The haemoglobin trancy tunes jostle with the rocket soul music of the red and white blood cells,  as they enter a race around the veins and arteries of my torso. Till they thunder down my arms towards the finger tips, then it's wham-bam-thank-you-mam as another wondrous sound gets transformed before my very eyes and ears on the computer screen.

My influences can be traced back to my youth,  where I could be seen strutting in my Adidas clogs on Legends dance floor. While Mike Woods dropped some new beat industrial square dance boogie woogie for us all to get our teeth into. These were groundbreaking times back in 1888. All week long we would be sweating our bollocks off in the factory. Loosing fingers was the norm as the machinery took some getting use to, with our feeble child's grip. Then after a week of graft, loosing digits and shit, it was a quick hop-skip-and-a-jump up the nearest chimney,  to give it a quick sweep and earn some extra sheckles for the weekend jaunt to Legends. Mike was playing these weird sea shanty type records on the grammar phone that no one else was playing. He had a contact who was importing the sea shanty discs on clipper ships from the USA. The ships would dock in Liverpool and the records would make there way by barge up the Manchester Ship Canal to be unloaded at Eastern Dock record shop. These types of sea shanty vibes that everyone was getting down to at the time have a very big bearing on my music today. Songs like 'knit knit that Aaron sweater' by the Pipe-smokers and 'Rum Sodomy and the Spade' by the Navvies were favourites of the time.

By the turn of the Century everybody who was anybody was tuned into the sea shants movement. From that first Summer of Sea Shanty Love back in 88 things had spun on a long way. Clubs around the Industrial wastelands of the Northwest were still churning out the usual mainstream Shanty shit but at a faster pace and with some wench looped over the top singing away on the old joanna. The Adidas clogs had been replaced by white silk mittens, a hand carved oak walking cane with day-glow handle and a paisley cravat worn as a bandana, which had been smeared with Vicks. But this was money for old rope and it was tiresome and tedious. It was at this stage that I upped sticks and went to live in a cave and block myself away from all outside influences, deep in the mountains of Sierra Nevada. With only the Apple mac and Ahmed my Moroccan Dwarf friend for company. Ahmed is a great companion, who because of his height comes in useful for a number of reasons.1) When he stands next to me wearing a sombrero he makes the ideal ashtray 2) When he stands next to me wearing a mortarboard he makes the ideal coffee table, which comes in handy for placing my brew or laptop on. 3)He is forever skinning up.....which has got nothing to do with his height but you get the picture.

It's here in the dark dank cave, that I rattle out this rocket soul sea shanty tirade by candle light for your enjoyment. The retired Geordie couple in the next cave are nonplussed with mine and Ahmed's late night studio sessions on the veranda. Sometimes we could be out there till gone 3, twiddling away on our knobs with no consideration of our lovely neighbours. Ahmed is a useful tool when it comes to picking out the right beat, you know you've hit the right spot when his head starts nodding like the Churchill dog as I test out tunes on his ears. It's either the beat has carried him off to head-nod land or he's forgot to take his Parkinson's tablets again, either way he seems to like the music. The cave dwellers in the surrounding caves have also been showing me some hostilities and it's not down to the load of beeps and drums emitting from the cave. it's down to the fact that I'm looking after my friends two miniature terriers at the moment and they have been shitting everywhere. How was I to know that you've got to follow them around with a pooper scooper or plastic bag and carry the shit home with you. i have been letting them run wild around the communal lagoon and the fat lazy hippos who wallow round the oasis  all day have been complaining. It's the same hippo I had a go at the other day for feeding the 15 wild cats that hang around the bins. because I'm in the ground floor cave they seem to like my balcony to sleep on. I told her in no uncertain terms the next cat that struts its stuff on my territory is getting an air gun pellet embedded in its skull. It's always the same ones who complain,  the Joyce and Kenneth types from Lincoln. They come over for their two weeks in paradise and stay in the apartment they bought after saving up all there lives. It's going to be the retirement home when they both give up there boring civil-service jobs in the not to distant future. Thanks to their wines, the place is littered with signs of a dog having a crap with a big red cross through it. I wonder how much they cost? Never mind we will all find out in the next maintenance bill. You hear them openly gossiping about everybody else in the complex as they burn their skin red round the pool. "Him and Her in number 22 are getting hitched, he's just recently divorced after 30 years of marriage and she's a 19 year old ex Romanian prostitute - Him in 402, someone said the tax mans after him back in England - and him in 321 was on Crimewatch last week". Now me and me bird are top people watchers ourselves but we keep our gossiping sessions private. I have my eyes on another apartment and I cannot wait for the day I leave. Hungry Hippo and hubby will get a shock when they next visit their apartment to find a dead rotting cat carcass and two weeks worth of dog turds, thrown all over their balcony.When I told her to stop feeding the cats, she looked down on me with contempt and talked to me as though I had the intelligence of a goldfish. Who was I to tell her to stop feeding the cats, she had been feeding them for four years before all the riff-raff turned up, she informed me. The riff-raff she's referring to is the loads of people who rent the apartments. With there being so many places on the coast to let, people have had to drop rent prices. So for a relatively cheap price you can rent a decent gaff. All the think-their-posh-brigade all probably bought off-plan and  thought that the complex would be full of nice decent folk like themselves, but unfortunately the lunatics have taken over the asylum and we shall not be moved.



anyway after that mad waffle back to the music..........oh and Ahmed strongly suggests a large intake of narcotics before listening to this track. His favoured ones are knock out bubble polly and Faustina in extremely large quantities. He also suggests playing it at a very high frequency. Enjoy.




Bow Down To The East - Petition The Lord With Prayer Remix By Boom Flap Chunk off the Album Night Trains of Thought Pt 1
Do Drugs make you more creative?

Here is a sample of my music that i make whilst being extremely high on weed and if that's not being creative on drugs then I don't know what is. But I could of done this music without being stoned, so you've only got my word on that. So lets jib the music for a minute and lets concentrate on the writing and see if that can help us  answer the question 'Do drugs make you more creative?' To help us out lets look at two introductions explaining my music, both written by me, one i done stoned,  the other i done straight. I was in two minds about which one to put up to accompany my music. So I thought i would post up both and let you guess which one I done stoned and which one I done straight........


1.
This is me chonged up on green, twiddling a few knobs and pushing a few buttons (badly).
Not to everyone's taste.....but fuck it!

2.
The whole concept for my music comes to me in many different dreamy guises whilst sleeping at night. As these beeps and buzzes enter my head I transform them with the help of the laptop at the side of my bed, into many earth shattering noises. Dodecahedrons of beats flutter in and out of my train of thought all night long, then as  i enter some zombie trance like state these beats enter my my blood stream and run towards my heart. I get over took with zombie beat blood as it rushes around my body getting spewed out by the beat of the heart. The haemoglobin trancy tunes jostle with the rocket soul music of the red and white blood cells,  as they enter a race around the veins and arteries of my torso. Till they thunder down my arms towards the finger tips, then it's wham-bam-thank-you-mam as another wondrous sound gets transformed before my very eyes and ears on the computer screen.

My influences can be traced back to my youth,  where I could be seen strutting in my Adidas clogs on Legends dance floor. While Mike Woods dropped some new beat industrial square dance boogie woogie for us all to get our teeth into. These were groundbreaking times back in 1888. All week long we would be sweating our bollocks off in the factory. Loosing fingers was the norm as the machinery took some getting use to, with our feeble child's grip. Then after a week of graft, loosing digits and shit, it was a quick hop-skip-and-a-jump up the nearest chimney,  to give it a quick sweep and earn some extra sheckles for the weekend jaunt to Legends. Mike was playing these weird sea shanty type records on the grammar phone that no one else was playing. He had a contact who was importing the sea shanty discs on clipper ships from the USA. The ships would dock in Liverpool and the records would make there way by barge up the Manchester Ship Canal to be unloaded at Eastern Dock record shop. These types of sea shanty vibes that everyone was getting down to at the time have a very big bearing on my music today. Songs like 'knit knit that Aaron sweater' by the Pipe-smokers and 'Rum Sodomy and the Spade' by the Navvies were favourites of the time.

By the turn of the Century everybody who was anybody was tuned into the sea shants movement. From that first Summer of Sea Shanty Love back in 88 things had spun on a long way. Clubs around the Industrial wastelands of the Northwest were still churning out the usual mainstream Shanty shit but at a faster pace and with some wench looped over the top singing away on the old joanna. The Adidas clogs had been replaced by white silk mittens, a hand carved oak walking cane with day-glow handle and a paisley cravat worn as a bandana, which had been smeared with Vicks. But this was money for old rope and it was tiresome and tedious. It was at this stage that I upped sticks and went to live in a cave and block myself away from all outside influences, deep in the mountains of Sierra Nevada. With only the Apple mac and Ahmed my Moroccan Dwarf friend for company. Ahmed is a great companion, who because of his height comes in useful for a number of reasons.1) When he stands next to me wearing a sombrero he makes the ideal ashtray 2) When he stands next to me wearing a mortarboard he makes the ideal coffee table, which comes in handy for placing my brew or laptop on. 3)He is forever skinning up.....which has got nothing to do with his height but you get the picture.

It's here in the dark dank cave, that I rattle out this rocket soul sea shanty tirade by candle light for your enjoyment. The retired Geordie couple in the next cave are nonplussed with mine and Ahmed's late night studio sessions on the veranda. Sometimes we could be out there till gone 3, twiddling away on our knobs with no consideration of our lovely neighbours. Ahmed is a useful tool when it comes to picking out the right beat, you know you've hit the right spot when his head starts nodding like the Churchill dog as I test out tunes on his ears. It's either the beat has carried him off to head-nod land or he's forgot to take his Parkinson's tablets again, either way he seems to like the music. The cave dwellers in the surrounding caves have also been showing me some hostilities and it's not down to the load of beeps and drums emitting from the cave. it's down to the fact that I'm looking after my friends two miniature terriers at the moment and they have been shitting everywhere. How was I to know that you've got to follow them around with a pooper scooper or plastic bag and carry the shit home with you. i have been letting them run wild around the communal lagoon and the fat lazy hippos who wallow round the oasis  all day have been complaining. It's the same hippo I had a go at the other day for feeding the 15 wild cats that hang around the bins. because I'm in the ground floor cave they seem to like my balcony to sleep on. I told her in no uncertain terms the next cat that struts its stuff on my territory is getting an air gun pellet embedded in its skull. It's always the same ones who complain,  the Joyce and Kenneth types from Lincoln. They come over for their two weeks in paradise and stay in the apartment they bought after saving up all there lives. It's going to be the retirement home when they both give up there boring civil-service jobs in the not to distant future. Thanks to their wines, the place is littered with signs of a dog having a crap with a big red cross through it. I wonder how much they cost? Never mind we will all find out in the next maintenance bill. You hear them openly gossiping about everybody else in the complex as they burn their skin red round the pool. "Him and Her in number 22 are getting hitched, he's just recently divorced after 30 years of marriage and she's a 19 year old ex Romanian prostitute - Him in 402, someone said the tax mans after him back in England - and him in 321 was on Crimewatch last week". Now me and me bird are top people watchers ourselves but we keep our gossiping sessions private. I have my eyes on another apartment and I cannot wait for the day I leave. Hungry Hippo and hubby will get a shock when they next visit their apartment to find a dead rotting cat carcass and two weeks worth of dog turds, thrown all over their balcony.When I told her to stop feeding the cats, she looked down on me with contempt and talked to me as though I had the intelligence of a goldfish. Who was I to tell her to stop feeding the cats, she had been feeding them for four years before all the riff-raff turned up, she informed me. The riff-raff she's referring to is the loads of people who rent the apartments. With there being so many places on the coast to let, people have had to drop rent prices. So for a relatively cheap price you can rent a decent gaff. All the think-their-posh-brigade all probably bought off-plan and  thought that the complex would be full of nice decent folk like themselves, but unfortunately the lunatics have taken over the asylum and we shall not be moved.



anyway after that mad waffle back to the music..........oh and Ahmed strongly suggests a large intake of narcotics before listening to this track. His favoured ones are knock out bubble polly and Faustina in extremely large quantities. He also suggests playing it at a very high frequency. Enjoy.




Bow Down To The East - Petition The Lord With Prayer Remix By Boom Flap Chunk off the Album Night Trains of Thought Pt 1
http://download.yousendit.com/CDC327725C8EA5CB



PS It was made on my Laptop so it's still abit amateurish but I am investing in some proper kit in the near future. The spare room in the new apartment looks ideal to make into a little studio,  although the other half has other ideas.

Keep checking my MySpace page for further developments.
http://www.myspace.com/berniesrocketsoulmusic

 

 

 

Home | Archive | Contact Us

Copyright 2007 Swine Magazine.   All rights reserved.