Friday, December 30, 2005

The Napoli Boys Vs Dumpland

The first time we came across Richie was when he was still known as Plastikman, in Napoli in the mid nineties. Techno was the new House and it was about to explode there, soon becoming our favorite genre down south. When I heard Richie was going to play in Dumpland, I immediately rang the Napoli boys, “We simply can't miss this!” I said. I was going to be in Napoli all that week, but I booked an early return flight to be back on Thursday night. While the Knacker had to skip it, as he had to work, the Nervous and me wasted no time and booked our tickets on line.

On that Thursday I landed in Doooblin in the afternoon, dropped my bags at the airport baggage depot and headed into town for a shopping session. As usual Irish clothes shop had not much to offer in terms of choice, but I eventually found a Ramones T-shirt in Urban Outfitters. It wasn't second hand but it looked like it was so I got it, I was delighted. I had a solitary pint in Temple Bar and then went back up to the airport to collect my luggage.

In the meantime, the Nervous left Cork with a rented car, and speeded up to the Capital (Yeah, I know... Cork's the real capital) not fearing the snow and ice on the streets. He risked his life at least once, when overtaking a car that was overtaking a truck he found himself facing another truck approaching fast in the opposite direction. He pushed the car to the limit and avoided a potentially disappointing frontal collision. When I rang him he was a little agitated... Heh heh heh.

Eventually we met nearby Euston Station where we were meant to hook up with Blath who would let us stay in her house that night. When we got to her place we were introduced to a nice German girl that lives there. The night was shaping up nicely; the excitement was growing while we were getting ready for the night out.

Beautiful German techno... and girl!

We got to the club and queued up, while we were at it, the Bass crew also arrived. Once inside, we headed downstairs immediately. Richie was about to start playing and we were about to get totally drunk, with an endless stream of double JD and Coke. An unconcerned research on he dance floor to try and find the good ones led us to nothing, so we relied on the good ol' Jack to get us flying.


The dance floor got soon ridiculously packed, mobbed like Pana on Christmas eve, but the excellent music selection by our favorite Canadian in Berlin was overwhelming. We danced and danced, sweating out the Coke and burning the alcohol, drunkenly but discreetly flirting with the Fair City females. At one stage, we were quite drunk then, the Nervous came up to me and said: "Can you smell it?" and I said "Smell what?" and he went “The smell of sex, girls' love juice, can you smell it?” I couldn't, although I could certainly feel the sensual vibe that hanged on the dance floor...


Scent of women

Richie's set was not as minimalist as you would expect. He went for a slower, electro-er selection, although several traces of minimalism could be heard every now and then, when a bleep would submerge every so often from the speakers, to remind you where the man comes from...

Who's da man?

The set was unreal and according to the Nervous it was the cause for the aforementioned smell to get stronger and stronger. I tried to pay attention to Richie's actions for a while, standing by the boot, but I could see two Hawtins and 4 Powerbooks, and didn't know which one was real and which one was projected by the Jack Daniels. Soon I gave up and launched myself back in the crowd again for the last half an hour of pogoing (You can't call that dancing really), unlashing the photographer in me in an attempt to catch the unbelievable vibe of the night.

Richie + Powerbook = People go crazy

Culture kids

At 2:30 more or less the set came to an end, but not our night. As we stepped out of the club, someone came up and told us he got the ‘good ones’! Did we want some? I've never seen the guy before but went "Where the fuck were you earlier?", he laughed, money exchanged hands, the Nervous smiled with joy. We meet up with the corkonian Buckfast drinking bunch and speeded off drink driving to an all night party.

Wishin' it'd never end...

Once we got there we parked on Leeson St, in the Bus lane, just by the bus stop. We rang the party house and were told we were one block away. "Will we drive there?" someone asked, the drunken unanimous response was "No, let's march!” when we entered the house, the party was raging. Decks were spinning, and so were heads. Plenty of people, party people, if you know what I mean. So we mixed and mingled with the crowd, randomly feeling boobs, kissing necks and generally doing the Italian thing with many smiles and a few nasty looks from babes in return for our flirting services.


The Djs...

The girls...

The lads...


When at 5 or 6am the music stopped and the guys living in the house were kicking people out, we were among those not recognized as close friends and risked to be thrown out on the street as well, but Spongepants came to rescue us, and shortly after there was more walking around the house looking for a laugh, while the music restarted, darker and deeper...

We eventually left the party at 10am, walked down a busy Leeson St, while it was snowing and freezing. We couldn't really find the car and for a while we blamed this on the ‘good ones’, but after a short while it was clear the car had been towed away.

So, off me fuckin' trolley, I ring directory enquires, get put through to the bleedin' Tow-Away-ers, who tell me I can pay by Credit Card or in an office in the city center. Luckily I had the fecken' visa with me, give him the number (Several times, I was reading a different number each time until I got it right) and he gave me the location of the car.

They just move it around the corner, so we went around the corner and half an hour later we still couldn't find it, ring the tow-away fuckers again and confirm the location of the car. Then I told the Nervous to use the car alarm remote, we could see the car with the indicators flashing, that must have been our car. In fact it was, we walked by it ten times earlier but just didn't recognize it. I wander what car we were looking for all morning...

So there we were, in the car, trying to drive home. We realized there is no bleeding indication to get to Euston Station, so we drove around Dublin like two edjeets for another hour until we found the river and followed it. By chance we went in the right direction and once at Euston there was the problem of remembering where to go from there to get to Blath's place. The Nervous proved to be a little more sober then me and at the first attempt we took the right turn and eventually arrived home.

Blath was in tears; the floppy containing her essay on which she had worked all night (She didn't come to Traffic) was missing. I looked into her eyes, they were filled with tears from frustration and desperation, took three steps towards her portable pc, pressed the 2nd floppy slot eject button and out it came the floppy. She was overwhelmed with joy; the Nervous and me were about to collapse instead.

We fell asleep in the living room in odd positions and woke up several hours later in the same odd positions. It was too late to get back to Cork for Innercity’s 80s fancy dress party, but were delighted when the German babe came down and asked if she could get prepared for the night out in the living room, since the only mirror in the house was there. Of course we said she could and sat there in admiration, a little cabbaged.

Dead? No, just a little tired...

It took us another day and night of resting on that coach in Dublin before we could even think of driving back.

What a night, was it worth it? Fuck yeah!

Sunday, December 18, 2005

D for Duriez - D for Detroit

We've been waiting for this one for a while, Duriez founded 'Les Maçons de La Musique' in 1999, and he's an excellent Dj, producer, remixer, label manager, graphic designer... An eclectic. He's been active on the French house music scene since the early nineties and has been at the forefront of the French house scene for many years. Moreover, this was going to be Innercity official opening party.

Monsieur Duriez descended on Cork wearing a Detroit hoddie. In fact his tech-house, that could remind you of Garnier at times, was certainly French but also very Detroit.

David displays his dedication to Detroit

A well known groupie displays his dedication to David

For me and the Nervous, raised to techno in Napoli, it was a savage night, the tunes were class. Voices came to our ear that 'he's listening to more and more techno these days...' and you could hear that in his set. A real pity that the crowd wasn't that big, which was inevitable considering Hype (Crap&Bass - When I told my brother Sirguy back in Napoli that Hype was playing he went: "Are they still listening to Drum and Bass over there?") was also on that night.
Anyway, the place got going in the last half an hour and Duriez really gave us some techno dancing to do, and there was room for us to bounce around the place like at some obscure after hour party with just the fifty hardcores who are there for the 20 minutes versions. I think he actually liked that, he probably felt he could go deeper underground with his set.

Thumbs up David...

The party was raging outside....

When the lights went on he played some more, defying the not-so-techno bouncers and the absurd rules that constrain Cork nightlife. Corkonians are known to be rebels anyway, and in fact they were having their own street party raging by the fountain, celebrating Cork City winning the League.

City till I die

We stayed on for a while, catching on the celebratory vibe and joining the many that didn't really wanna go to bed, not yet at least...