Feeling the bass beginning to pound in my throat still halfway down the street from The Office, I started to feel a little apprehensive. The Good Vibrations of the day before had only just stopped reverberating through my body and I was tired and wired and ready to drop. Still, call it masochism or whatever you will, I was determined my red-rimmed eyes would witness the hard-master of drum and bass until the very last ear-splitting note had exploded out of the speakers.
We arrived fairly late, thanks to an unforseen incident involving a friend from Scotland, some abalone and a pair of very puffy lips – ‘nuff said. Outside the venue, there seemed to be more than a modicum of familiarity among the queue of jumpy punters and various groups milling around outside; I knew plus one and I were among the real drum and bass faithful. Feeling somewhat lonely due to the lack of usual crew but undeterred, we entered The Office to find out just how much damage bass can do to the eardrums.
In retrospect, I can’t ever remember going to a night like this before – hours and hours of pounding, relentless, whumpfing bass that ricocheted around the room with nary a break for a breather. Concept had the crowd edging closer to the dance floor as we arrived and I headed straight for the nearest table, where I did no more than tap my feet for a while. This was not, of course, due to the quality of the tunes – Concept played a fine set to a deeply appreciative and increasingly excited crowd, helped along by mostly (and I hope I get this right!) MC Assassin. There were a few MC’s on the night, namely J Rippa, X Sessive and of course Assassin, but it was the latter who stood out as the master of the mike. He had the unenviable task of trying to predict just what Goldie was going to do next in order to keep the rhyming smooth, but more on that stop-startage in a minute …
Goldie arrived on stage to expected levels of rapture from the audience. If there could be a picture next to the definition of “bit of rough” in the vernacular, there would be no finer candidate than Goldie. A mouthful of glinting teeth showing through a cheeky grin, he launched his assault against the crowd with some seriously hard-as-nails, tough-as-fuck drum and bass. The man, I must say, is a consummate performer but having said that, a producer first, DJ second. The stop-start and re-re-wind approach got a little tiring at times; it was clear from the outset that playing bits of tunes as teasers followed by the wibbling sounds of the backward spin was going to be the order of the night, and not some fine, seamless mixing.
But hey, having said that, I’m not a trainspotter, and I would rather have my body shocked back into action by infectious basslines than quibble over needle and groove issues. It didn’t take long for the music to take effect and I was soon dancing despite myself. Like I said, the fury of the music was quite an experience and really put the “when the body is weak, but the mind is willing” thing into perspective all over again. The set was a mixture of serious lashings of the Metalheadz back catalogue coupled with some newer tracks from the forthcoming album – if you’re thinking old lovelies like “Inner City Life” got a showing, think again!
So what was wrong with the night? Well, not to get pernickety, but the closing of the bar at 1:45am was a little disappointing, but I guess law dictated that one. And what was up with the weird-ass goblin-like things hanging from the roof? After musing for a while, staring up at the creepy roof-hanging décor during one of my pit stops, I came to the conclusion that mirror balls must have gone out of fashion!
And what was right? Well, I think Goldie more than made up for his slightly dubious mixology by being one of the scariest, most theatrical and energetic DJs I have ever witnessed. Few DJs would follow his act of jumping into the crowd after his set, waving his hat around and generally behaving like a loon to the delight of the assembled dancers. He was genuinely supportive of our local talent too, trying to get the crowd amped up again for local veteran Diamond D.
Sadly, as the man with the flashy teeth disappeared through clouds of smoke, my feet gave in for the last time and I had to unwillingly wave goodbye to the rest of the night. Rest assured I left with ears still straining for the storming sounds of Diamond D’s set and my feet dragging reluctantly along the sticky carpet on the tired walk home. To all those who were thinking about going but tucked themselves into bed early instead – ha! You missed out.
