There are many things that point to the great Australian. From the Steve Irwin wardrobe of khaki shorts to a good bottle of Hunter Valley red, a corporate box at the cricket to the revving motor of the reliable Holden Ute; we all celebrate and appreciate the Australian verve in our own individual special ways. And on the eve of a day intended for usual Australian messiness, the beautiful people of Brisbane migrated to new club Uber at West End, for the golden glories of Groove Terminator and My Ninja Lover.

Uber is indeed an exciting new entrant into Brisbane’s club scene. In spite of the scaffolding on the outside, there remains an air of style and panache as you enter the premises. The attention to detail for the inside décor can only be summarised as exquisite. Rich burgundy colours in the carpet and hangings compliment the warm wooden panelling and numerous glass doors. Divided into sections, Uber has an eatery at the bottom of the stairs, a foyer upon entry up the inclined stairway, the Lounge Area with doors that open out to a deck on the street side, and other doors branching out to the main Club arena. On this night, ridiculously attractive people overflowed from the confines of the Lounge onto the upper deck, their self-possessed demeanour alas, failing to mask their eagerness. Of course, one did not remark upon how awesome it was to be here, because to do so would immediately denote one as decidedly passé. One simply wandered through the night with the ‘of course’ approach:
“Isnt the décor wonderful?” “Of course.”
“Aren’t the bar prices reasonably priced? “Of course.”
“Arent we attractive?” Why my dear, of course.”
In all seriousness dear readers, Steve Lee and Matthew Fraser have a firm grasp on a corner of the market that is too jaded for cheese or too à la mode for the anti-establishment, and it is thus to their credit that Uber will emerge as a conspicuous leader in their exclusivity and sophistication.

I entered the Lounge to the music of DJ Cutloose. Being the Lounge, the music was, therefore intended for the express purpose of gracefully sprawling across divans. Funk -based and -inspired tunes such as Jamiroquai intermingled with Peter Gabriel, Toto with Cy Coleman. I often found my jaw dropping to the ground at the astonishing and evocative tunes Cutloose continued to pull from his record bag. From sensations in the 70s to modern winners, his DJ skills were excellent and his quality in choice of tunage, admirable. I know of no other but this fine specimen of a DJ who can segue from Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean into Shirley Bassey’s Big Spender. As his sounds infiltrated each Uber corner, I slowly uncovered his modus operandi: Cutloose would operate from cellular ideas, establishing them as an idée fixee and expanding upon the surrounding colours. At the time of merging tunes, he would cut back on textures and gently introduce the new sounds, with extreme precision and care. Unfortunately (though to be expected), the Lounge area served principally as the gathering place for gaggles of geese, with the result that his wonderful music served merely a backdrop. To his credit, this never bothered Cutloose in the slightest – this treatment was obviously what he expected. His sublime tunes nevertheless, continued to entrance my ear.

The members of My Ninja Lover had been surreptitiously hanging about, gearing themselves towards their performance. For Steve and Matt to even consider grabbing this group for a live performance can only be the consequence of brilliant minds. The boys slowly made their way onto the stage, Porl Deville taking his place behind his keyboards, Chris Buckridge at his bass. When Manta Ray took the stage, the Lounge Area transformed. Where before there had been a studied nonchalance and calculated coolness, the crowd converted into the hyper punters they really were. The beckoning call of Manta’s siren voice proved irresistible as a throng of people gathered before the stage, girls and guys alike, with eyes transfixed and bodies delightedly swaying to the noxious rhythms that remain the musical mainstay of My Ninja Lover. Featuring guest saxophonist, Stuart George, the increased energy for My Ninja Lover proved incredible. Chris produced seemingly Yello inspired basslines, his performance strong and steady, his bass beautifully resonant. Porly’s keys were penetrating in the mix – in fact, far more piercing than Manta’s vocals, though certainly not overpowering. Alternating between keys and guitar, he also bowled me over for six when he briefly swapped positions with Chris, taking over the bass seat with casual ease. Stuart, alternating between alto and tenor saxophones, enhanced and echoed the melodic lines of Manta’s arias, his notes sounding more like effects than an instrument line. Sound engineer James Clark was excellent, observing the varying needs of each musicians – though my one disapproval lay (as always) with the bass being far too low in the front of house mix, leaving the pre-recorded samples too prominent for my liking. Overall, though, the quality in sound was precise and clear. Throughout the entire set, I was constantly pinching my own arm to convince myself that this was indeed a live performance. The accuracy of Manta’s pitch without any need for auto tuning proved truly staggering to my ear. It was amid crazed applause that My Ninja Lover stepped from the stage into a swarm of fans, allowing enthusiasts the chance to purchase their recently released EP Silk and Daggers - available direct at their performance or from all good record stores.

The music of DJ Freestyle filled the Lounge for the remainder of the evening. It was in true Freestyle fashion – pumping house beats set against meandering melodies that flew across the musical spectrum. His carefree tactic was appropriate to the ambience as the jittery punters returned to their former blasé selves. It really was a shame that much of Freestyle’s music seemed unacknowledged, but I’m sure the crowd was appreciative in their own offhand silent way.

I hastened to the Club area, hoping I hadn’t missed anything of importance. I hadn’t. It has been a very long time since I last saw Matt Fraser aka DJ Aniki play, but there he stood, perched above the decks, his bass heavy music blasting from the 12 cans surrounding him. Brisbane has always been happy to claim Aniki as one of its time-honoured DJs, and for a crowd not quite primed, Aniki certainly was solid at laying down infectious rhythms and beats. He infused popular melodies with thick basslines and uptempo pulses, the low frequencies satisfyingly resonant. His ‘Aniki Cheese’ set was met with whoops and hollers as the Groove Terminator bounced up the stairs to Uber DJ heaven.

The blonde locks of Groove Terminator shone under the superb lighting. The crowd did not seem particularly discerning, happy enough to have whatever the GT wished to hurl at them. Be it stuff from the Top 40s, good ole 90s tunes or industrial treated refrains, the floor was swelling with the masses. Be it the grainy vocals of Jamie Foxx belting out the backline melody for GoldDigger or Kelis’ Millkshake, or clashing guitar melodies, GT added depth and intensity to their sounds, enhancing the already amazing music. He would add a gritty edge to RnB or HipHop tunes, giving the usually smooth tones a sharp and brusque verge; perfect for the judicious dancefloor. His basslines always had a wet and superfluous resonance so that they almost sounded flatulent. His beats reverberated towards each corner of the room, their strokes and rhythms effortlessly manipulating bodies. His guitar melodies were discordant and jarring against the compounding rhythms and punctuating hihats. Sometimes, it seemed as thought 80s inspired melodies vied against the 90s treatment of minimal hiphop. It was fantastic – almost like one arm trying to eat the other!

Though I tried to hang around and perhaps breathe the very air of GT himself, I found myself wanting to withdraw and mull over the varying genres of music continuing to play itself in my head. As I left Uber, I could still hear the booming house beats of GT as I wandered down Boundary Street. Uber and its occupants were having far too much of a good time – obviously. As it should be.

Love and Kisses, Lady Lex