How to Never Ever Get What You Really Want

angels kiss

she held my hand. we were stood in the woods. there was no one around. we were 10 years old. She had bleach blonde hair and big blue eyes. like a tiny angel. She was waiting for me to kiss her.
I couldn’t. She was beautiful. I was in love with her. I was shit scared. I couldn’t do it. Was i being tricked? I said i was worried my mam would find out. We went back to her friends up by the leisure centre. They all shouted at me. I was shaking. Her name was Ceri. I had fancied her since i arrived in this school a year ago. And she wanted to kiss me now and i was too much of a pussy.

I felt undeserving. I stopped myself from having it, even though she was there in front of me asking me to take her. Or was it that i thought i was maybe being tricked. That they all might start laughing at me. Which of course they now did.


This pattern seems to have repeated throughout my life. I always seem to give up right at the point success is offered to me. Right after all the hard work. All the pining. All the intense desire. The time has come. The dream is manifest. Here it is.
“No Thanks.” Runaway! Hide!

Is this a lack of self worth? 

Why do i feel undeserving. Do i need to get hypnotised or psycho-analysed to travel back to when i was a fat weird baby. And see what events led to this pattern? I’m trying now, hang on…

My memory is shit. However, one event springs to mind. A distant memory when i was younger than 5.  I was allowed out with my big brother and all his mates. All i ever wanted!  I was cool at last. Part of the gang. We all head out into the Welsh summer. I felt amazing. Then he slams the gate on me, and he says “Fuck off, Nip”. They all strut up the street with their curly perms and skateboards. All looking back and laughing at me locked in the garden alone. I was tricked. Done.

The fear of being tricked has taken a grip on my life ever since. The fear of people laughing at me. And me not being part of it all.  Me being the joke.

| forgive my brother, of course. I don’t even know if it really happened. Or if i made it up. And anyway, he was a cool kid. He didn’t want his odd little brother following him around while he was trying to snog girls and smoke crack.

But the pattern repeats and repeats. Right through my life. Right up until now. Same thing over and again in slightly different scenarios. Can it really stem from this little event? Or does it go back further? Is it from a past life! I just want it to stop! But HOW!!!!???? It goes like this, first the feeling of being tricked, and then this leading to me walking away from the very thing i desired. The thing i thought i had just achieved. And then i hide. Alone. Bye.

Lots of little things happen when we are tiny sensitive creatures that can fuck us up for decades to come. Maybe the same situation keeps arising until we have learnt how to deal with it. Until we have learned the lessons.

So. What might the lessons be?

  • don’t run away and hide.
  • fight through the fear.
  • stop thinking everyone is against you.
  • tell people what you think.
  • feel worthy.
  • take what’s yours.
  • TAKE IT.
  • move the fuck on.
beat the music industry, creation, life

Don’t Try

Shortcut your way to success! Get more followers! Become famous! Buy plays! Buy Likes! Buy Comments!? What the fuck is going on.

There’s more music in the world, made by more people, available in more places than ever before. And people are buying less music than ever before. This is the first year there hasn’t been a platinum selling album. ‘Talent’ shows spew lame cover versions into millions of living rooms. Thousands of Beige-core bands, born from the whimpering arse of Chris Martin, wail in unison to the bored and silent mp3 generation.

Have we lost our minds?

Or have we lost our soul...

Your favourite band selfishly made music they LOVED. It was REAL. It was honest. And you got it. You felt the same! And you bought their albums and fell in love.

The best artists don’t consider their audience. They just keep working and keep digging and keep improving and keep creating. They keep expressing. When we express it all honestly and raw, people connect! ‘Difficult second album’ syndrome only exists because suddenly there is an audience to consider. ‘OH DEAR! What WILL THEY THINK! What will they expect from us?’

Trying is the opposite of expressing. Maybe that’s why Bukowski’s epitaph reads ‘Don’t Try’.

Surrender. Express from a place of contentment.  Create for no reason other than to create. Create because you love creating. Thousands of your ideas will fail. Keep creating. Do not dictate to the universe what it needs, get out of the way and let it tell you. Evolution is not a thinking process.

The more selfish you are, the more selfless the finished product will be. Self expression comes from the soul. All of our souls are connected. This is space. The Uni-verse. One true verse. The closer you can get to it, the more it will resonate with other human beings.


Be scared when you share your work. If you’re not embarrassed at the rawness of your creation, if you are not shaking when you put it into the world, then don’t.

If you think you’ve got it sussed, then you’re a million miles away.

Bow down to the unknown. Get to work. Get insanely honest. Be prepared for no one to give a single fuck.

Don’t Try.

And maybe, just maybe, your next creation will RESONATE.

life, my shit

How to Completely Fail at Making Any Money in your Entire Life


“JASON I NEED 980 POUNDS TODAY” my landlord screamed down the phone in his broad Scottish accent.
“Um, I dont have it at the moment, sorry” i said.
“There is an eviction notice in the post, i need the money this week, or this is going to court,”
I owe my girlfriend money. I have several debt collectors chasing me. And i had a letter last week notifying me of legal proceedings for recovery of a 7 grand loan i took out for a ‘friend’ a few years back. OOOOOOOF! Welcome to my world!

I have earned no money in 12 years. Much to the disappointment of my family, and my girlfriend and myself. I am a big fat failure.

When i was young i was always called the genius in the family. With my chemistry set, or my drawing skills, my introverted weird ways. My easy school grades in science, and art and maths. i was seen as a little professor, the brains of the family. Sure to be a success!
So what the fuck happened?

Other than going off the rails in my teens and becoming an adventurous freak that refused to listen, let’s have a look.

I shrunk all possible outgoings to a bare minimum for years. The plan was to keep my time free so I can master my craft. Music Production. I lived on nothing. Rented out my spare rooms. Even got my food from supermarket trash cans for entire winters. The idea was the more i curb my desires the more free time i had to do what i truly loved.

In the mean time my brothers all got themselves university degrees. They all moved into jobs that pay them around 50k a year. And they all bought beautiful houses. all the while i was sat in my housing association flat making stupid fucking techno loops.

Now, I have nothing! Well, that may be an exaggeration. I have less than nothing. In total I am worth about -£10k. I have a negative value.

When i was 16 i left school. My dad took me for an exam in Llanwern Steelworks. It was easy, i passed. Then he took me for a tour. It was the most horrific place i have ever seen. A massive sprawling metal universe that spewed smog, flames and shit into the sky. People in radiation suits. Huge loud ugly machines roared at me. Dirt. Grime. A smell of pure destruction and chemicals infiltrated my brain. Wrinkly, lonely, grey people walking about who had spent their lives in this nightmare world. And no women! It petrified me. I was offered a job, and turned it down. My Mam cried.

So I tried doing things different. But the DO WHAT YOU LOVE philosophy of life has FAILED me. I am totally broke, and have many people chasing me for money i do not have. This stress is the worst kind. It renders being creative very difficult. Reality is constantly biting you in the arse. I have no way of paying these people right now. I live in a bubble of my own making, constantly staving off stress and debt collectors, to try and create new things for people to enjoy.

“Why do you give all your music away?” friends have always asked me. I think the idea of giving away so much was to build a following, remove the blocks to people discovering my music. Build a tribe!


i could remove the need for money by living in the woods. With nothing. Eating bugs. But let’s assume i need a little money. What value do i bring to people’s lives (to exchange for money)? a crappy free mp3? on facebook? what does this do for others? I need to up the value. It’s no good posing about failure, this is just a form of Ego. What really matters is helping people.

I need to work out how i can cover my basics, because it’s pretty shit at the moment. I have many mental blocks regarding money. I need to remove these. And I’m not quite sure how.

Maybe i should just get a fucking job!

my shit



When i was 11 days old i was sat on the sofa at home chilling with a spliff and some spaghetti alphabetti on toast, when this bunch of toe rags came on the telly and started swearing. My mam started cryin and my Grandad wrote to Points of View.

37 years passed. and then last night i decided to destroy the infamous, era changing, interview with Bill Grundy.

here is the video, with special guest appearance from The Golden Sisters!!!

download the tune free here:


listen / download for free all 6 songs here: #666remixproject

thanks for listening.

ENJOY! SHARE if you LIKE it. nice one. x

my shit

[Axiom] • Fail

Screenshot 2014-10-19 18.49.52

the project i started last year, Axiom23. to make one song per day for 23 days straight, no days off.

the idea was to sharpen my production skills and work out a creativity routine, and experiment within certain rules. also to practise the art of finishing. it all started well, but soon people became miffed at how busy i was. my girlfriend was fuming with me as i had disappeared off the face of the earth, and many other people were getting upset by my disregard for reality.

the project was opening me up to new ways of working, new restraints, new directions, new ideas. it was exciting the hell out of me. to be fair a lot of the tracks were a little ropey, but it was getting me into a hardcore routine. i was loving it.

my favourite’s had to be The Promise and Imagination. i failed to reach the 23 tracks.  i was just uploading track 14 when i had that phone call. Flakey. With the news. Our Dr Conker had died. My heart beat out of my chest in shock. The next 2 months were spent dealing with the loss of Conker, and tying up his affairs. Now almost a year later i have decided to return to the project, starting afresh, Axiom23 part II.  I will start on or around the same date as last year, and will blog how its going daily. just need to wrap up a few other things first. (#666remix project, Clusterfuck debut single, and some other shit).

here is last years failed Axiom23 effort:


more news soon.

thanks for listening and spreading the flaps.

let me know what you think. xx



i sometimes look in the mirror and feel like crying. in fact i have cried in the past. this is due to something i call the FAILED NHS OPERATION. 12 years ago i had corrective jaw surgery. i woke from the op looking like a bruised yellow balloon, with bloody dripping plastic pipes bursting out of my massively swollen head. for a few months after, i ate all my dinners liquidized through a straw, as my teeth were clamped together and i had a brace. when the brace finally come off i looked in the mirror, the swelling was less. but instead of the op making me look better, i was an ugly motherfucker. my teeth were all pulled apart wide and looked big and yellow, and my face was chubbier and lopsided. i went home and cried. i moved away from all my friends and went to a new city, feeling like a freak. i tried to make new friends. i was a new person and i was trying to accept this. but i couldn’t. i fucking hated the way i looked.

now, 12 years later, when i look in the mirror i still dont look like me. and it catches me out every time. its like i’m expecting to look like me, and this weird cunt looks back at me! i think the NHS has made a disaster of my face. It looked so much better before, more defined, pointy, less flabby, lopsided and saggy. cunts. 12 years of head fuck. but many of my loved ones say i look the same. or better. am i insane.

but try explaining this to anyone and you just come over like a tosser. “there are more serious problems in the world! you vain bastard.”

simply being unhappy with the way we look, a deep dissatisfaction with oneself, can ruin your life, moment by moment. they say self esteem is everything. so if you don’t have any you’re fucked. a quick google of BDD (Body Dysmorphic Disorder) will throw up many forums and horror stories. people deforming them selves through surgery. extreme self mutilation. depression. extreme seclusion. and even suicide to escape the misery. i believe the problem is ripe, so much so that it is affecting many people we know and love on a daily basis. millions are feeling terrible because of it. is this a new phenomena brought on by media / celebrity ideals, and the distorted importance of how we look coupled with the modern ability to change ourselves with surgery? or does the pain echo through history? a deep psychological illness? i believe Michael Jackson was a sufferer, and i believe many people we know are too. an inability to accept ourselves for what we are, for some reason.

last night, i felt a warm glimmer of liking myself, i saw myself from the outside, as if i were a stranger. an alien. this never happens! and it felt good. i first thought my thighs were ok. thats where it started. i thought of these, i think i liked this about me. i actually liked something about me! If I thought from this likeable area and tried to see me as a human from outside, i could see a nice, vulnerable man. there was nothing wrong with him, he was, from what i could see, just a man. warm, short, smiley, messy, nice thighed man. there was nothing to dislike, or nothing to say he wasn’t ‘right’. jason. nice little man.

i need to be kind to me. this is the start of my success in life. this is how people will start treating me right, as soon i like me. this is the key to everything going right for me for the rest of my life. my relationship with myself is everything. and for 12 years i’ve been completely unhappy with me. i need to build this love. i am stuck with me right up til the day i die. and i don’t plan on dying yet.

we accidentally grow the very thing we are fighting, with the power of inadvertent focus.

change can only sprout from the fertile ground of acceptance.

we are what we are. and we are amazing. it’s time to learn to accept ourselves.

celebrate your wrong bits.

my shit


flap cornwall sns

Excellent night was had with Deekline, Skank n Stomp and all the crew, thanks for all who came, especially the mental dancers who proceeded to rip the decor down and scream til i was deaf when the PA blew up…. Top Night…

Enjoy the set, Free Download.

Happy Birthday Conker xxx