I discovered DJ Cra$y last night. After burning through 150 fucking blog posts, sacking earfuls of swill and almost pussing out to hump my pillow, one track went meltdown on my whole RSS.
My head started swinging while halfway down an ST Holdings release sheet–check ST‘s breeze by the way, they’re mint. The track’s backstory:
DJ Cra$y was a hybrid floor mover of the jungle and house breed in early ’90s Hertford, north of London where he was friend of remixer BrEaCh’s dad. Like a ripe old plot device for writers everywhere, Cra$y ended up doing as many pills as you were expected to in those days, and went crazy. Once the fallen dub warrior was in the warm hands of professional mental care, BrEaCh’s dad was asked to look after his tapes.
Enter BrEaCh aka dapper Ben Westbeech twenty years later, who finds a stack of dusty DAT tapes in his dad’s garage with “DJ Cra$y” written on them. An old crate of dollar sign (because $ was hot in ’91) naturally had to be ravaged and re-upped with quickness.
After some quality time with family friend BrEaCh, a 2-track wax refill of DJ Cra$y was sent back to the clublands and blared for the tribes to get toxic to once more.
Don’t get as toxic to it as Cra$y–unless you’ve got your DAT tapes stored squarely in some dad’s garage.