Drawn in Darkness

Even from the most beautiful things, darkness can emerge. Objects, people, landscapes, experiences, no matter how beautiful they appear, darkness is never to far away, the tick of the clock, the call of a crow, the sound of the bells, they all signall that the sun will soon fade on this thing, and leave a picture of darkness. The light will again shine, but for now, darkness has taken it's place.

Dboy - Poker Sessions One Mix

DBoy - Poker Sessions One

From the depths of Dboy's collection comes this selection of Dub and Funk vibes. From the classics of King Tubby, Junior Byles and the Family Man to the new skool funky breaks of Fort Knox Five (uk) and MoodPhase5ive (Cape Town's Finest) this mix brings together a dope selection of tunes to sit down and turn the stereo up ultra loud. With new skool Dub from the likes of Dj Edge (this tune was 1992) and underlining Hip Hop beats to the ditry little secrets of The Dix and Andre3000 to the raw funk classics from James Browns crew and of course the Horny Horns, Dboy selects is all for ya. Get it in ya and have a listen.

DBoy - Poker Sessions One - Dub / Funk / Dub kinda vibe. 144MB - 256kbps - 78mins
DBoy - Poker Sessions One

Dj Edge - Tempest Dub
Jake Savona - Ghetto Star feat: RuCL
Andy Rantzen and Nancy Valentine - Viewing Creation
Yabby You and King Tubby - Tubby's Vengance
Junior Byles - It Was the Long Way
Keith Hudson, Family Man and Horace Andy - I'm Alright
Nightmares On Wax - DreadOverBoard
Outkast - Spottieottiedolpaliscious
Fred Wesley & The Horney Horns - Between the Streets
The JB's - Blow Your Head
Fort Knox Five - Once Again feat. Jah Kamonzi
FDEL - A Fuller Culture
DJ Krush and Koto soundscape
MoodPhase5ive - Vital
The Dix - Tears in My Eyes (Dirty Girl)
Mongus HiFi - ING feat Brother Culture
Nightmares on Wax - Damn
Fat Freddy's Drop - This Room (live at BBC studios)
William De Vaughn - Be Thankful for what you've got

Beat Seeking Missiles

{image by Itch@Revolver- altered and photoshopped by Dboy with out permission}


In dark corners of dark smokey rooms the Movement sits, sips, whispers the latest.
Music pounds out the rhythm of the conversation, dark moody beats, hip electro styles, fast jungle patterns, sub woofers elude to the technology of the day, no animal skins here, no lion hair strings, just pure unadulterated techno styles of the Movement. Crowds hustle and bustle to hide the slick movement of hands under the table, the swift flicking of the thumb towards the mouth, the sharp sniff off the nail. The whispers contain news from the underground, millings of the whats not and what is, the quality control in check of the goings on and fading away. The sun may rise, but the beat will not fall, the doors to this club do not close, the couches will stay full, the art will still hang, the tenders still serve with rapid succession, the money still exchange hands with little thought of its worth. The watchers take it all in, the partakers never think twice, the beat will sway these walls, will take the falls, will control the mood you seek. Come the first day of the week, the heads will still carry the knowledge gained from other member, the experience can not be replaced, the outsiders and insiders will still stay in the loop, with confidence in their actions, confidence the beat goes on.

Spark the Jag

Sometimes imagery just captures something that appeals to the eye. I knew what I wanted with this one, and I got it.

Desire

The Movement is restless. A feeling to take hold of the moment is no longer fleeting. The moments are no longer occasional. The desire to press forward, to take the raging bull by it?s horns and pin it to the dirt, to control its fury, to blow dust in its tamed face, the desire to set it free and enjoy it?s new found freedom. The desire of the horse to run with its wild comrades, to join those who are not bound by the restrictions of the framework provided. To not be constrained by the mundane life that requests so much, but often gives so little in return. Those in the Movement know only too well that desire is a dangerous element, a superficial and exotic dance which when trained can be used to provide motivation, but when cut loose, when let free to roam the emotions of our lives, to rule the roost of our actions, it can overthrow the control we seem so set on maintaining. Desire: It?s drum beats a wild jungle beat no doubt.

Broken Love and Twisted Fate

In the midst of love, something broke. So many concepts that we learn are only just that, concepts. But there is no denying that the concept of love and all the perceptions that are associated with it, though differing from each and every individual to another, are bound together because they exist at the most basic of levels. We are drawn to other individuals, we learn to care for them and care about them, we choose some individuals to care for more than others. In the middle of these relationships we find ourselves struggling, falling, rising? loving. In the midst of love, something broke. Around us the walls collapse, the rain covers us, the water rises, the drums pound a rhythm to the brain, around us the powerful attempt to control, the money drives the cars, the drums pound a rhythm to the brain. Around us hate and despair crowd our style, around us struggle is immanent, blood will be shed, wars fought, lives lost. In the midst of love, we lost our way, we lost our timing, we lost our rhythm, we lost our selves. So much good to be had with the ones we love, so much to be found in the hearts of those we care for, so much to give those that we hold so close. Why would we waste that? Why would the little things concern us so much? Why would we bother? Why would we waste energy on worrying when we can just be? The writing is on the wall, not between the lines, the answers are obvious, there is no trick to it, it is plain and simple. Easy to discover, no dark secret about it, no lies told. You just grab tight and don?t let go. We let go. In the midst of love, something broke, despite us, in spite of us.

Hearts of Darkness

Deeper than the roots of understanding, in the most powerful recesses of the heart. The sharpest of edges, the most keen of angles, behind the doors of fury, inside the gates of anger, in the veins of revenge, and in the liquid that is the blood of man, flows a darkness, flows a hidden shadow, a slick and enduring force. In the garden of hate and beyond the valley of death, to the south of south of the waters of life, in what makes us men. It creeps along besides us and never lets us out of sight, in the wilderness of loneliness it thrives, patiently waiting for its voice to be beckoned, quietly harassing the coat tails of light, the darkness is alluring, it is attractive, it is temptation, it is the silk of all souls. In the beat of a heart it calls out to your weakness, calls to your strength, calls for your satisfaction, eluding your judging gaze, in the hearts of darkness are the heart pulse of men, the souls of women and the ever edgy presence of desire. In the heart of all darkness.