Ayla, the other secret half of Fail, is undertaking a charity bike ride (that's her down there, sipping tea in Ikkyu). It's in aid of Maternity Worldwide. Their main aim is to help reduce maternal deaths in developing countries. There are loads of depressing and grim statistics and I have a personal interest in this because it affects the village where my family are originally from.

The bike ride takes place in Ethiopia at the end of October. She'll be riding over 200 miles at altitudes of over 2000 metres. All this amuses me greatly because as of a few days ago Ayla had never ridden a bike in her life. She managed to pootle around Muswell Hill for an hour, so she's confident that the intense terrain of Ethiopia will be a pushover.

Still, she's got a few months training and time left to raise around £2000 for this most worthy cause. So, we want your cash. Electronically, of course. You can either use Paypal or credit card to cough up. If you pay by credit card and you are a UK taxpayer, they'll kindly stick another 28% on top.

Go here for more info http://www.absorb.org/ayla

Thanks for listening, I'm Sheikh Ahmed.

Ikkyu. Click here to view flickr.

It's not as if I steer the contents of this blog away from anything other than music. The temptation to write reams and reams of guff about the minutiae of my life has always been there. But then the focus of attention shifts to me, and there's enough ego online as it is (plus I'm a shy 'n sly sort). Having said all that, I need to take a break from applying words about music, purely for the fact I'm bored with words about music.

Which leads me neatly onto London. Up / Down, Love / Hate. One positive entity in this city (and folks, there are many - so this could end up being an ongoing series) is Ikkyu....Tottenham Court Road, near Goodge Street station. Next to that Scientology recruitment place. It's a Japanese restaurant, but a pretty unique one. I'd like to say something factual and wisened like it's London's oldest Japanese restaurant. But I'd be lying. I'll just say that, to me, it feels like London's oldest Japanese restaurant.

Save for a single red paper lantern and a sandwich board with crude hand-drawn signage outside, it's very easily missable. In stark contrast to the perfectly-aligned graphics and appealing colour schemes of other eateries in the area, this seems perfunctory in comparison.

This no-nonsense approach continued as you entered the restaurant (via an incredibly steep staircase). Uneven, creaky floorboards covered with threadbare carpet served as the platform for heavy wood tables, wobbly partitions and an envrionment that was more akin to a warehouse than eating establishment. Crates of beer, saki and supplies stacked up against every wall. Every space taken up, nothing left for decorative purposes, it all screamed out the mantra: sit / eat / leave.

Ikkyu. Click here to view flickr.

You'd have thought that they would offer equal, if not more valuable floor space to their staff. But the open-view kitchen is equally as chaotic and cramped. All visible from my favourite feature: the counter. Tightly packed seats means you get intimate with fellow consumers very quickly. But watching the kitchen dynamic is more than enough. The single confident sushi chef manning his post, the manager who doesn't seem to do much except sit and watch, the flurry of waitresses handling miniscule scraps of paper.

The service was another point....fair to say, it didn't always follow established protocol. The waitresses, whilst stable - in that I mean, they were recognisable on repeat visits - always seemed to behave as if they'd only just started learning their profession that day. A mix of meek and nervous body language (or 'cheery and a little ditzy' as someone on a forum better put it). Any questions thrown at them would result in sudden glances at the chef / manager. It's not a complaint and would usually add to the experience.

But I'd get the feeling that management couldn't genuinely give a fuck. Certainly not one to be warm towards patrons (established or otherwise) and no concessions to the demands of the typical Londoner. They took long holidays, eventually stopped their lunch service and didn't even bother to open on Saturday evenings (but they strangely opened on Sundays).

The food of course was just simply excellent. Amusingly enough, I'm not even going to try and distill any of it into words. It can't be done.

Epilogue: Sadly all the above has now drifted into memory, as Ikkyu closed down at the end of July. God knows why. Also, before anyone makes a smart-arse comment, I am aware that there's an Ikkyu in Chinatown. But it has nothing to do with this one. That Ikkyu is a horrible tourist trap only fit for visiting Europeans. Go on, try it if you don't believe me.

In the name of progress, another hidden part of London has gone.

JPLS: Twilight (M_nus) - CD

Still not convinced that this brand of house works on the album format and M_Nus seems to be the label intent on proving my point. After the recent long player from Marc Houle (which I'd rather call a solid selection of DJ-friendly rhythm tracks) we have the debut of JPLS.

Clipped, precise rhythms are pushed to the fore, whilst sleight-of-hand melodies and binary basslines hover in the background. Compelling enough at the start, especially with the opening appeal of 'Twilight 1'. But the restrictive palette quickly wore me down. It's also way too long, with the running time nearly hitting an hour. Amusingly enough, two of the best tracks are remixes by Skoozbot. Which flips the script and favours lively synth workouts over the functional dance.

Infinite Livez: Bush Meat (Big Dada) - CD

The recent collaboration with Stade ('Art Brut Fe De Yoot') did not impress, so I decided to revisit his earlier effort. Released back in 2004 on Ninja Tune's Big Dada offshoot, this was one weird hip-hop album. Surrealism doesn't even begin to describe the headspace. From songs about sore nipples ('The Adventures of the Lactacting Man') to filthy sex-rhymes ('White Wee Wee'). The 'comedy' aspect can start to grate after a while, but superior pop moments like 'Pononee Girl' and 'Last Night' win you back.

Haswell & Hecker: Blackest ever Black (Warner Classics) - CD

The reactions I got from the staff of Soho's Soul Jazz as I put their ears through the jittery speed cycle of 'Movement 2' ranged from bafflement to instant dismissal. OK, so this is computer music at its most extreme. But the idea that an organisation like Warner Classics could decide to release something like this. Well, comments like "someone is getting back-handers somewhere" start flying around.

But quite rightly, Warner Classics refers to this as contemporary classical music. There's theory and intent and process at work, none of which i'll explain here (Curtis Roads' sleeve notes do an excellent job instead). And those familiar with the works of both Hecker and Haswell will continue to be rewarded.

Ultimately, this satisfies one aspect of what I seek in new music: to contain sounds that I've never heard before. Shame about the cover art though.

Mystery Man: Life in a tube - Original and Remixes (Overxposure) - 12"

Dunno if he's referring to activity inside a science laboratory containment unit or his day to day travels on the London Underground. Either way, this is a half decent collection of rhythmically refined revisions from the folders marked 'techno' and 'electro'. Containing both the elegant clinical sheen of Berlin to the wonky off-chord trickery of Detroit.

Enduser: Pretense / Blood & Metal (Outbreak) - 12"

S'alright. A million and one other variations out there like it. Unless Jungle does something pretty interesting quick sharp, I'm gonna start to delete most of it off my hard drive and eBay it out of my flat.

The Others: Africa (Dub Police) - 12"
Rusko: Acton Dread (Dub Police) - 12"

The definition of digidub is "A sub-genre of reggae. Usually created by Europeans exclusively on computers." So does that mean dubstep is the modern equivalent? Judging by the efforts of these two releases, the answer is "fuck, yes". There are ever-so-tiny moments of genuine invention and Rusko's effort is slightly better. But on the whole, this conjured up horrific images of the likes of Dreadzone. Now there's a warning.

Skream: Skreamizm Vol.3 (Tempa) - 2 x 12"

I couldn't even bring myself to write some words about that album. But I'll summarise it in one now: shite. The gnarly looking teen behind the counter at Soho's Black Market Records mumbled something about "keeping the scene alive" as I purchased this attractive release. Needless to say, I wanted to punch the silly cunt square in the face. I think I'm going to have to stop going to that shop, it no longer fits in with my principles.

Mr G: Atmosphere EP (Careless) - 12"
Mr G: U Askin'? (Rekids) - 12"

Mr G (aka Colin McBean) used to be one half of humourless techno duo The Advent, whose brand of machine clatter I could never warm to. But all is forgiven with these two impressive releases that inject new blood into the micro-genre titled Black London Techno. On the 'Atmosphere' release it's the B-side that is the winning track. Brooding, street-lit basslines and Motor City-inspired beats punctuated by unintrusive soulful vocals. The Rekids release is even better though, a rolling Reese-style rhythm underpins morphing basslines, pseudo-acid melodies and snares that slowly compress.

I heard the news whilst wearing a New Order T-shirt, was DJ'ing at the annual Acid on Sea Boat Party and played 'Blue Monday' as a tribute.