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When you hold affections such that you yearn for a time or a place to return to you put yourself in grave danger of committing the sin of wishing your life away.
Easily done when you spend 16 weeks basking in the sunshine, dancing from club to club, with friends that you never spend enough time with. The other 36 are not entirely a different matter. My last correspondence seemed to end somewhat abruptly having fished one of said friends from certain doom, and although we both survived that particular episode, the writing was on the wall. It was time to go.
Arriving back in London was not as dispiriting as one might have thought, with what seemed the dancefloor of the Discoteca joining me on my first few forays in into its underbelly, namely the annual depress-fest that is the Fabric birthday and We Love’s Halloween Ball with fellow furtlers, Mulletover.
Fabric, as a club, I hold nearly as dearly as Space, however the yearly conversations I must suffer at his soiree are demoralizing, and for added pleasure this year…you can’t even smoke while some near stranger derrises your life choices. Fuck ‘em all, let God sort ‘em out, He’s got a habit for things like that.
We Love…Mulletover was a different event entirely, mainly because the majority of the crowd were in the same boat as me. However the pleasure in the reunion was only in part the success. The warehouse at the Kings Cross Goods yard (RIP) was a perfect party palace, found only too late by myself and the promoters who rinsed its dubious licensing for its last few months. Rocking out to Alfredo and Jem, in the We Love arch then an old school Geddes polishing off my night was the homecoming I was sorely hoping for.
The rest of the eight months I behaved similarly to the majority of you lot. Getting my head down when required and getting out of it with the same decree. Fleeting trips to Asia and the odd European adventure but still I was wishing my life away.
Ibiza 2008, was it really going to be the year the music died, no more villa parties, clubs being shut down, silent disco, Hierbas been banned blah, blah blah. I’ve always found myself to be blessed or stupid enough to dance in an empty room. So a little less skipping-time inside a club at the height of the afternoon’s sun isn’t going to dampen my passion, nor yours I imagine. Granted DC-10’s dusty dancing will be missed, but the truth is I rarely made most of the day events before five in the afternoon anyway, so, I shall roll with the punches as long as I’m standing.
Things change, that’s life, and you can’t deny it. Nor would you want to. Some things however mature than change.
We Love…Space, 5pm, the usual time I arrive, btw, and We Love…is definitely open for business. Andy Baxter, Island legend but We Love…new boy was building the Sunset Terrace like he’d been doing it all his life.
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With the whole of the club, barring the Discoteca, open by 6pm the club really felt like it was starting to swell. The huge Terraza, marshalled by Elio Riso was taking a little longer than most as Spencer Parker; another debutant took the reigns to fill the room. Spencer, playing his trademark deep tech house, was obviously pulling out all he could to fill the room. To be honest, the new opening times I think confused a large proportion, unsure as to when to start the party proper, fyi, I think it was 7:30pm when the club stated to rock and throb as it does. A quick return to Passion for a beer confirmed this as I witnessed the soon to be familiar site of the swarms descending on the car park. |
On my return, Jason Bye had just begun his season in style, playing a noticeably different style on the sunset terrace to last year, a theme that was to be confirmed the rest of the night. The usual high jinx on the sunset terrace had given way to more serious techy affair. Good call from the acts, particularly Tom Novy and Bye as the crowd were loving it.
On the terrace Smokin’ Jo had followed from Spencer, stepping up a few gears with her brand of bleepery. By now the terrace was definitely packed, however I was definitely sober, the two never quite mix.
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After my weekly sabbatical to Bella Napoli it was time to get down to business. Paul Woolford, this year’s new weekly resident and brand spanker has been a busy man. Over the winter he’s released his album on 2020, provided one of the mixes for the new We Love…cd and followed in footsteps of David Guetta with his own brand of hair product, Wool-Wax, available in all bad salons, now.
With a bag full of re-edits, and on this evidence, Paul’s going to have quite the summer. He provides a genuine energy when he’s playing that comes not just from the tunes he plays but the man himself. |
Time was quickening as was my pace. After not seeing everybody for so long you want to see them all in the 1 st week. Riton wasn’t for hanging about, I’m not sure the boy does warm-up, but I suppose neither would I if I had the array of acid-buggery he possesses.
What was to follow took my breath away, after delving into the deepness of Ben Watt on the Terraza; I made my back to the Discoteca for DJ Pierre.
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I’m no veteran, however my first forays into acid house were with Pierre at the controls, and some of the 1 st records I bought were produce by the man, so it was with some affection and a little trepidation that I made my to the Discoteca floor. However, I should have feared not, this was no retro, sure there were the classics thrown in but Acid House like this is timeless, I’m sure I wasn’t alone in my reverie as the room was charged as it only it can be. Mind-blowing, well done the man. |
Next up stepped the Zombie-Blaster, Felix to take the night home, however he was going to rush it. I jumped back to the terrace to catch the sonic hotpot that 2ManyDjjs throw their kitchen sink at the packed crowd before stepping back to hear Felix close the room stinking of teen spirit. A quick night cap at Ocean Drive and the day & night was done.
It’s good to be back…
A N Other We Lover
Tags: 2manydjs, andy baxter, ben watt, dance, dj pierre, elio riso, felix da housecat, ibiza, jason bye, paul woolford, riton, smokin jo, space, spencer parker, sundays, tom noy, we love
