Deathwish Discotech

There's something in the air, something building from within the UK's fiercely multi-cultural music scene. There's always been a rich diversity and a loyal tribalism to our multiple strands of sonic subculture. Often they're seen pulling apart from one another, distancing themselves through their own idiosyncrasies, but right now it feels like they are coalescing ... or it certainly did on Friday night in London.

I was booked to play at Deathwish Disco at 93 Feet East, a night which the promoters told me on arrival had been spawned, in part, as a response to the dubstepbreaks collision of the Revamped album of last year. As a music producer there can be no finer compliment than that - to see an idea grow, evolve, have impact - and in many ways the night could be characterised as a celebration of one simple word. Bass.

Like any big city London can sometimes be a hard nut to crack with crowds a little 'cooler' and more reserved than those out in the provinces. Not Deathwish Disco though - predominantly young, massively enthusiastic, open-minded & eager to consume all angles of the 'Warehouse' style - this was a genuinely thrilling return to the capital for me, and one that I hope will become a fixture in the diary over the coming months.

Elite Force for President

01.03am. Saturday night. Sevilla.

My ride to the club arrives. I sling my bag in the back & leap in. We grin at each other & I attempt to engage in some basic language-transcending chat. 'Party. Good?" (thumb raised). The response is a nervous laugh & the sad shake of a head. 'No entiende'. Long ride to club.

The streets around Ypodromo have been hard-wired into excess. Bottles roll, hoodies lurk, voices are raised, gangs gather around car stereos, dancing in the streets. At the door a hundred people are scrumming to steamroller their way in - I'm pushed through the centre and then we're inside. The music's tough, angular, driving. Crowd are biding their time through the drop, and as I make my way to the front to reach the stage, the beats kick back in & the whole place erupts as one, leaping like lemmings, arms akimbo, touching the sky. I'm swept along & squeeze through the gate to an enclave behind the booth.

As I take over from Krafty Kuts, signs are raised aloft saying 'Elite Force for President'. With that, a dozen people jump on the front of the booth and for a minute it looks like the whole structure is going to crash & burn. 

This night is hotfire.

Fishnets, Flamboyance & Flair

It's hard to imagine a city more suited to seeing in the New Year than San Francsico, and that's where I found myself last night playing for the Opulent Temple crew at the spectacular Sea of Dreams party at the Concourse Exhibition Centre. 

Playing over midnight comes with it's own little pressures - not least getting the timing right (last year in Perth I was about 3 minutes out, but no one seemed to care) - and this time round I had to time the triggering of my 'countdown' track bang on the T-minus 15 seconds point, and to my complete amazement, it worked out ... although afterwards I was told that the clock on the big screen was a clear minute early. No matter, it's only time.

Once again, San Fran was at it's most dressy, glitzy - it seems that the good people of the city have perfected their own kind of twisted burlesque-hobo-raver-chic, and it's a look that I love to bits. Fishnets, flamboyance and flair, the perfect tone to begin 2011 on.

Hope you all had a good one

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