The submarine is sinking and Andrew Duke is the DJ.
Bip-Hop
Picture the scene: Three hundred wide-eyed and crazy club kids from the Ukraine, desperate for a place to hold the mother of all parties, hi-jack a dormant soviet submarine and load it up with a massive sound system, a bar, and several cases of glowsticks. They descend into the icy waters and let the rumble begin. Meanwhile, Andrew Duke, a Canadian Naval sonar operator picks up a faint throb from the distant party sub as it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. The gurgling beats are mangled by the time he receives them several thousand nautical miles away, but as he listens for signs of hostile intent, he begins to tap his foot, and the impetus for "Sprung" is born. He leaves the Navy with deep-sea sonar recordings in tow and buys a laptop where he begins to splice the faint, distressed beats and pulses with more audible scratches and pops and the Bip-Hop label is more than happy to release the results. I'm not sure if that's exactly how the recording of "Sprung" went down, but if you sit back with a copy of "Sprung," and a pair of headphones and picture that wayward sub and its crew of tripped-out dancing kids slowly descending through the darkness until the pressure squeezes the infinite beat into submission, you'll have the perfect soundtrack.
Picture the scene: Three hundred wide-eyed and crazy club kids from the Ukraine, desperate for a place to hold the mother of all parties, hi-jack a dormant soviet submarine and load it up with a massive sound system, a bar, and several cases of glowsticks. They descend into the icy waters and let the rumble begin. Meanwhile, Andrew Duke, a Canadian Naval sonar operator picks up a faint throb from the distant party sub as it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. The gurgling beats are mangled by the time he receives them several thousand nautical miles away, but as he listens for signs of hostile intent, he begins to tap his foot, and the impetus for "Sprung" is born. He leaves the Navy with deep-sea sonar recordings in tow and buys a laptop where he begins to splice the faint, distressed beats and pulses with more audible scratches and pops and the Bip-Hop label is more than happy to release the results. I'm not sure if that's exactly how the recording of "Sprung" went down, but if you sit back with a copy of "Sprung," and a pair of headphones and picture that wayward sub and its crew of tripped-out dancing kids slowly descending through the darkness until the pressure squeezes the infinite beat into submission, you'll have the perfect soundtrack. samples:
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