12 February 2010

PERFECT WORLD III

Saturday 12th November 1994

The tVC bandwagon continues its relentless stumble toward obscurity as Oz, pre PW, plays an hours warm up set to two of his friends, in a restaurant, cum club, called Taco Joes, in Brixton. Hi to Pete, from "A Friendly Affair", "really famous DJ" Grub (and Jules). by the end of the set people had filtered in, and the club was filling. 1am. He left Grub to it as a pressing headline at Sherlocks big party beckoned. Already swaying, (from not being paid, and something else. Life at the bottom, eh?) he headed for Sues big-fast-blue-car-with-a-loud-sound-system-in-ideal-for-driving-quickly-between-venues-mobile, or for short., the fluff car, or overview mobile music car, and within minutes they had parked behind Nicks broken, new, second hand car (cheers, Ivan, you ****) and were, after an arrogantly brief flash of their access all areas, "we're not paying" pass, hey it's only rock 'n' roll, cards were plunged knees first, into a different world.Populated by strange wistful people some of whom, with large black pupils for eyes, extend messages of love-and-solidarity-and-beauty. Sometimes I dive into their eyes.Immaculate decor. "Someone spent a lot of time and energy on this," said one party peep next to me. Yellow 'silk' completely enveloped the curved tunnel like main room. Curiously like the inside of an inside out banana. With cubes, papier mache worlds of varying sizes and some excellent backdrops this adult playschool was primary coloured, bright and very cheerful. Upon entering this space people didn't break out in a profusion of overworked water expelling skin pores, then melt, whilst at the time losing a stone in weight. Instantly. And that's before dancing all night."Tight, drawn, hollow facial features anyone?" No siree. Not a hot sweaty body in sight. Why? That club essential for the 90's now installed. Air conditioning. What a treat. Even our spinal fluid levels felt fine.Room two had the DJ's in the roof. Now I don't know about you but, personally, I like to SEE them . Ugly bunch of bastards that they are. People like to, er, interact with them. For example "got any Status Quo?" (one of my faves), or "can I borrow your lighter?" (just as the mix is supposed to happen), or, even more bizarre "what the fucks that tune called?" All part of the rough and tumble of doing something that you have to really concentrate on whilst dealing with people completely off their bollocks.And, believe me coz I've been to a couple of parties, it was FUCKING BOILING. Easily knocking FLY off the top of the "really fucking boiling places we've been to" list.Musically Room1 was good old pumping and bouncy hoose crowd pleasers (it is after all what we want to hear at a Perfect World party). Whilst Room 2 was deeper, more vocals, mellower. Just more. Even with a too loud rig.Come six am a prompt finish meant that the thirty or so (arf) tVC contingent were left high and reasonably dry. We still had the problem of the lemon, sorry new car, that had broken down. After approaching a garage in a neighbouring arch we tentatively enquired about a fix or a tow. "Oooh, I don't know about that", said the mechanic (who I'd just woken up) scratching his face and sucking his teeth. "Let's have a look shall we?"After a bit he looked up from his computer screen. "One hundred and forty quid," he said (quite confidently and without laughing). To put a new gear box in? "No, to tow you home."Faaark. Skipping that, a short limp to Brixton saw us at "FRESHLY SQUEEZED" a new chill club. They were still kicking the punters out from the party the night before when we arrived. "No music 'till 10", says the gaffer. It says nine on the flyer though. "No music 'till 9 then". It was about 7. Popeye, Drew and Sherlock were supposed to be playing but no-one had arrived. There was no "Freshly Squeezed" people there yet either. Only 20 or so Kent maniacs gasping for a party and a pint. An hour later, with the management allowing us to play some tunes ("but only through the monitor") Oz got his 12"s out, and, proverbially speaking, we were off. A Freshly Squeezed person arrived a 9 and was surprised to see the floor pumping profusely. Popeye showed and the PA switched on. He surprised us all with a divine, laid back mellow proffering only resorting to his usual somewhat more mid-evening style for the last half hour. Nice one man. By the time Drew had taken over we were off back to Kent. There was still the small matter of a bust car. "BT" Chris to the rescue ("Love to Maddie"). One AA Relay Card, one phone call, one very nice man. Back in Kent. Just in time to catch the last hour with the Sunday Soakers.I'm going to stick the standard paragraph in here that seems to go in every issue at the end of every weekend. In subsequent issues it shall be referred to by the tag name of the first six words. Whenever you read it refer back to this paragraph."Then it was back to HQ....for an extended chill workout with the fluffcore love posse draped and chatting. Totally at ease with each other they smoked, drank tea, watched vids, listened to music, DJed, shagged, talked, snogged, danced or whatever else they fancied doing in complete freedom and comfort".Sounds like the manifesto for a club night.....now there's an idea!

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