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May
2006
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As Mayday set in, I was almost at the end of a six-night DJing stint spread around the UK. By this point, the late nights had taken their toll, and I was pretty exhausted. What didn’t help was being woken early at my Travelodge – yet again – by inconsiderate people, and noisy room maids, having only rolled in from my Splash gig in Preston at 4am. Unfortunately, morning sleep-ins and hotels don’t mix, and I keep getting frequent reminders of this fact. So after a bit of laptop work, I set off east to Hull, my last port of call, praying for a hotel room quiet enough to allow me some daytime sleep.
'MD with The Bomb Squad' Despite my hotel being adjacent to the main train station, it was as quiet as a morgue, which was just what the doctor ordered! The gig, Sugar at the Waterfront club, was organised by Face and Doc Jnr, collectively known as The Bomb Squad, a highly switched-on and professional outfit who have already brought some major urban music names to the city, both DJ and PA-wise. The events are university-orientated, which resulted in a young crowd, with an over-abundance of females. Never a bad thing. After breakfast on Tuesday, I headed back South, relishing the prospect of a couple of early nights. With G’s out of the way on Thursday, as soon as I got up on Friday morning, I headed back up the M6 for my fourth consecutive weekend in the North West. I’ve been spending so much time there lately, I’ll soon be racing pigeons/ keeping ferrets/ wearing a flat cap, * (insert Northern cliché of choice here!) In store was a visit to the Southport Weekender wearing my reporter’s hat, plus gigs in Wigan and Preston to make the most of my time in the region.
'The Powerhouse, Southport ' I first attended Southport in 1998, and still have vivid memories of the traffic carnage on the M6 at rush hour on a Friday evening. Visitors from the South regularly talk of having spent seven or eight hours in a jam. Kid Fury and myself used to overcome this by heading North immediately after whatever gig we were at on the Thursday night, arriving at dawn and sleeping all day. This time, I compromised, leaving home in Oxfordshire at 11am, and arriving at my hotel near Preston at 2pm, grateful to have avoided all the bullshit that was certain to build up over the next few hours. I’d spent the journey up listening to the latest CDs I was due to review for Touch magazine, then typing them up on my laptop in the hotel room. In-transit work like this is the only way such things get done these days! At 9pm, I linked with B&S North West reporter Rick Star and we headed to Wigan for my two-hour set at the spacious Hub, a building which apparently resembles legendary Northern Soul venue Wigan Casino. The turntables had no needles, so I was forced to play my whole set off CD. These days, I roll with a wallet of essential tunes to get me through such situations, so it’s not nearly as much of a problem as it would have been a year ago. The place got pretty lively, and it was an enjoyable session. Immediately afterwards, we hit the road to Southport.
'Impressed punters at The Hub' This visit was the first in seven years for me. I attended four in a row in ‘98/ ‘99, but gradually became bored with what tended to be the same old same old every time. It’s only now that I’ve started missing it. Although the line-up included some great PAs and DJs, one of the most valuable elements is the networking opportunities. You’re guaranteed to bump into scores of other DJs and industry heads you haven’t seen for months, and a lot of hustling gets done as a result. We headed straight for The Funkbase, the R&B/ urban arena. DJ Swerve dropped Pete Rock & CL Smooth at the tail end of his set as a touching tribute to DJ Swing, and Don E put in an impressive PA. Unexpectedly, the highlight turned out to be Trevor Nelson, a guy I’ve never really rated for his club-rocking skills. Trev was on top form, however, dropping unconventional selections like Grandmaster Flash, Eric B & Rakim, Nas’ ‘Get Down’, Jadakiss’ ‘Ride Or Die Bitch’ and Baby Cham’s ‘Ghetto Story’. Your boy cleaned up in there! Rick and I linked again to have a quick look at the Saturday afternoon programme, which included Sounds of Blackness in full live performance. Later on, we re-grouped in Preston for my DJ gig at Browns, a lively bar/ club spot directly below Truth, where we’d played the previous Sunday, and operated by the same management. Browns acts as a feeder to Truth and other clubs, and was buzzing and thriving. Rick’s an experienced mic man, and MC-ed for me throughout. I think it’s safe to say that we smashed it!
'Browns management, Preston' Various things delayed our third trek out to Southport, including Rick’s need to consume a pizza to soak up some of the champagne he’d been necking in Browns. We arrived back at Pontins at 3am, just as Shortee Blitz was pulling his jeep up to the gate. Once inside, we caught Dawn Robinson of En Vogue/ Lucy Pearl putting in a powerful vocal performance. Shortee then took to the decks and totally destroyed it with a fast-moving, electrifyingly diverse set, helped along by some energetic mic work from Dr. Psycho. There are few DJs who can keep me dancing for an hour straight, but Shortee achieved it – surely the hottest set in the Funkbase all weekend.
'MD with Rick Star & Shortee Blitz at Southport' After bumping into many familiar faces, we left somewhere around 6am. I felt quite left out being totally sober, but it allowed me to properly take in the entertaining sight of hundreds of drunk, dehydrated, red-eyed, sleep-starved, partied-out people – some who clearly stopped raving regularly at least a decade ago. That’s the Southport experience! Although there was more on the bill for Sunday, I opted to head straight home in the morning for some quality time with Parveen. May’s crazy schedule means I’m spending as many nights away as I am at home, and I was starting to feel bad about leaving her alone for so long. I’m told I’m forgiven! Just as well. A couple of nights later I made the first of the week’s two overnight trips to Europe. Tuesday 9th saw me heading out to Brussels, Belgium. This one wasn’t actually for a gig, though. My roots are in magazine journalism, and very occasionally, I’m called on by some of my old contacts to go out and represent them on jobs. This one was a press conference on the Wednesday, an event which was notable for seeing me wearing a tie for only the second time in the 21st century. (The first was at my wedding, and the next will more than likely be someone’s funeral.) Like Britain, Brussels was sweltering, so it soon got removed.
'Bienvenu a Bruxelles' It was my birthday on Friday 12th, and the original plan had been for me to spin at a Birthday Bash event at The Fez in Bristol, organised by Wales’ Sugar & Spice crew. The Fez is renowned for its incompetence, however, (the words ‘piss-up and ‘brewery’ spring to mind,) so I wasn’t too surprised to hear the event had been switched to S&S’s regular Friday haunt in Cardiff, Tantra. My 90 minutes went by in a flash, with DJ Bibs handling the mic, so I put in another quarter of an hour before hitting the road home. As I exited, the rowdy football pissheads preparing for the following day’s Liverpool/ West Ham FA Cup match were already in evidence, and I was glad to be leaving before the following day’s inevitable chaos. I’d been unable to drink on my birthday itself, so I reserved that privilege for Saturday, when I departed via Czech Airlines for Prague. Fortunately, I’d seen a lot of the city on my two previous trips, so once at my hotel, I used the evening for a much-needed sleep before heading down to the club.
'MD at Radost FX, Prague'
Soul Train at Radost FX is run impeccably by DJ/ promoter Rico, who’s affiliated with T Money/ Femi Fem’s Rotation/ MVP family in London. The venue has its own restaurant, so I enjoyed a nice midnight feed before my set, handy for soaking up the vodka and champagne that flowed freely later. Also in town was Marcus of London’s Pesky Kids crew, who was holidaying with his girlfriend. He handled the mic for me during my two-hour set – a bit of a busman’s holiday. It ended up being a total adrenaline-fuelled crack, the crowd happily lapping up the many styles I dropped, from hip hop party joints, to bashment, to 80s revivals. It was a hugely enjoyable night, and I’ll look forward to any opportunity to get back. Big tune of the night was Beyonce ‘Czech On It.’ (Sorry, couldn’t resist a bad joke…)
'Marcus, girlfriend and Rico at Radost, Prague'
The following morning, red-eyed and slightly hung over, I headed back to the airport. Parveen was waiting to collect me at Heathrow. I then spent the afternoon resting at the in-laws’ conveniently-located place in Middlesex, before setting off later for the weekend’s fourth DJing engagement. This was So Delicious, DJ/ promoter Abbey G’s enjoyable new Sunday nighter in Chelmsford, Essex. Webmaster Lee and Essex DJ Lil Chris were in the place partying. As were a rowdy bunch of Essex girls on a hen night, who spent my entire set jigging around in front of the DJ booth with a blow-up man doll. This involved me having an inflatable plastic cock thrust in my face throughout much of my performance, which is not really the way I like to do business.
'Essex girls'
I had one day back at home to get my sh*t straight and my affairs into order before setting off on this year’s marathon trip to Singapore and Australia. I kissed Wifey goodbye once again on the morning of Tuesday 16th, and headed back to Heathrow. If all airlines were judged solely on the politeness of their cabin crews, the youth and prettiness of the stewardesses, and the quality of the on-board entertainment, Singapore Airlines would come up tops every time, with the likes of BA and Qantas very low on the list, (particularly on the second point!) Among the offerings to help get through the 13-hour flight were 60 on-demand movies which you can stop, start and pause at any time, (‘Collateral’ and ‘The Good, The Bad & The Ugly’ got chosen,) and on-board wireless internet connection – even in Economy. Singapore Changi Airport is one of the most advanced and impressive in the world, too, with enough shops and services to keep you there all day. I had a self-imposed layover of around 12 hours, purely to try and get some hotel sleep before the final eight-hour plod to Oz. I finally touched down in Sydney at dawn on Thursday, having grown half a beard since I’d left home 36 hours earlier. Yep, Australia is a f*ck of a long way!
'MD with DJ D Sydney' I surprised myself by sleeping at my hotel all day, before hooking up at 9pm for a meal in Sydney’s Newtown district with my favourite female DJ and good friend D. Afterwards, I linked up with Len of Big Daddy Promotions and his crew, to head to Gas, the top Thursday night urban jump-off. It was relatively quiet due to the uni students being in the middle of exam lock-down, just like in the UK, but it was still jumping and musically satisfying. Len’s boys, definitely up for a party, forced me to drink several alcoholic shots from a flask they’d smuggled in. I’m unsure what it was, but it seemed to have no effect on me whatsoever, while they were clearly getting twisted!
'Len and The Boyz Gas Sydney'
On Friday lunchtime, I flew up the coast to Brisbane, then transferring to the Calamvale Hotel, in the city’s outer suburbs. ‘Hotel’ means different things in Aussie terminology; often, it’s a restaurant/ bar/ entertainment complex with no actual guest rooms at all. In this case, the rooms were in an area to the back of the main building, slightly resembling the Bates Motel in ‘Psycho.’ Calamvale was the setting for the night’s Pressure Lounge R&B/ hip hop party, and the interior club turned out to be glam, well decked-out, and impressive. The place was rammed, making for a jumping and full-on session. This year’s schedule was much more relaxed than 2005’s, which saw me taking nine flights in as many days. On Saturday daytime, I found myself with enough time to head into Brisbane city centre for a look. The two main gripes of the Aussies were the weather, which was reckoned to be ‘getting cold’, despite being about as warm as the best British Summer’s day, and the escalating price of fuel. This has rocketed to the equivalent of about 60p a litre – still 40p less than what we’re paying in rip-off Britain!
'Brisbane Australia'
Saturday night’s programme was virtually a carbon copy of Friday’s. The Alexandra Hills Hotel, in another suburb, is owned by the same people as Calamvale, and the Squeeze Club niterie looks similar, but even larger. The party was even more off the chain, as impressive as anything the UK has to offer, and a great end to an outstanding weekend Down Under. The pictures in the Gallery section of the site tell the full story of both parties.
'MD with Jimmy The Boss at Squeeze Club Brisbane'
On Sunday, I went to stay for a few days with some old family friends of my parents. They emigrated from Britain in 1972, and have been away so long, they’ve developed full Aussie accents. Their purpose-built house, close to Surfer’s Paradise, Gold Coast comes with two acres of land. This put me in mind of the Simpsons episode where Bart phones a kid in Australia and asks him to go next door; he’s gone for half a day. Coronation Street and Eastenders figure heavily in the TV schedules. They’re a little behind us, though; in Eastenders, Dirty Den’s only just been done in!
'Surfer's Paradise' I flew back to Sydney on Wednesday 24th, linking briefly that evening with DJ Phat, a Zimbabwean Brit who emigrated to Oz three years ago. We had a chat and caught up with things over a pint of Toohey’s. (Incidentally, all the Aussies I spoke to confirmed that no-one out there touches Fosters or Castlemaine XXXX, despite all the ads we get in Britain trying to convince us to the contrary.) On Thursday, I started stage one of the trek home, this time with a proper overnight stop in Singapore. I used my night in town to head to Ministry of Sound, a franchise of the London club. They have another in Taipei, and are poised to open in Moscow and New Delhi. The club was a sort of enlarged circular version of The Bar in the London venue, and is certainly impressive. The night was Smoove, inspired by the London event, this particular night sponsored by Raymond Weil jewellery. I thought I recognised one of the guys in the DJ booth and it turned out to be Tang, who I’d spun with at Club Class in Maidstone a couple of years ago. He and Singapore DJ Tiny T told me about the tastes of Asian urban crowds which, they claimed, leaves a lot to be desired!
'Tang & Tiny T at Ministry of Sound Singapore ' My normal appalling luck on flights was reassuringly in evidence Earth is owned and run by Mista Savage, himself a key urban DJ on the South Coast, and we go back a fair few years. His Friday nights have had several restructurings lately. Whatever the formula for reaching its current status, it’s worked. Former Def Jam UK artist Aaron Soul was in the place hustling his new CD hard. Otherwise, the club was full of proper clued-up heads, and despite my R&B and hip hop offerings, people just seemed to want to hear reggae dancehall bangers all night. I was more than happy to oblige, and headed for home on a high. I eventually got to bed at 4.30am, and enjoyed possibly my longest sleep of the millennium so far, not stirring until almost 3pm.
'MD & Yousef at Earth, Eastleigh' It was still daylight as I headed to The Bridge in Oxford on Saturday, a great indicator that Summer is almost here. On the way, I saw a poster for a rival club advertising a ‘Pole Idol’ night, where entrants are welcomed to put in their best poledancing performance before being assessed by a panel of judges. That could end up being ugly. I’d forgotten my watch, so my only way to keep track of time was to take occasional pictures on my digital camera to get the time on the display screen! Despite being a Bank Holiday weekend, I was without gigs on the Sunday and Monday. This worked out pretty well considering my extended jet lag, and my need to spend some quality time with the missus after being away for half of the month. … and that was May! Diary Archive 2007 2006 2005
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