Enchantment

What constitutes a great night out?

One goes to great lengths to ensure a good time is had by all, but what aspects make up the perfect night out? Is it the company you surround yourself with? The quality of music? The location of the venue? Its décor? Its staff? An open bar? For the Launch of “Mother” Energy Drink at the newly refurbished Australian National Hotel, all the aforementioned points were well met, well supplied, and well delivered, thus assuring one of the best ‘nights out’ in my life to be committed to memory.

The Australian National Hotel might not be located in “The Valley” at a slight distant from the hub of Brisbane’s night clubbing precinct; but location does not infer “dislocation” from the cause of quality partying. Based very close to The Gabba grounds, the upstairs’ newly refurbished space of “The Aussie Nash” is a wonderful alternative to the often intimidating spectres roaming between Ann and Wickham streets. I arrived with my rather lengthy ‘entourage’ to the entry portals of Australian National Hotel, where the words “Coca-Cola Amatil” and “Mother” Energy Drink were profusely displayed. The friendly burly security guard was surrounded by a bevy of attractive ladies with plenty of smiles on show as they welcomed my group and directed us up the rather lavish wooden staircase. Curious feminine forest sprites from faery tales lined the stairway; their heads adorned by garlands of laurel leaves and berries, their lithe bodies clad in gossamer togas; their faces painted in an elfine nature with their eyes claiming our full attention, aggressively whispering “Mother” into our ears as we passed.

We crossed the threshold of a lovely open courtyard with the outside bar already bustling with party folk. Stunningly clad and well formed bodies were in abundance, sauntering about with cleavages, muscles and large smiles on fashionable display. I realised immediately this was a very elite assembly. Light aircraft pilots, engineers, private school teachers, fashion boutique owners, PR consultants, retail experts, marketing gurus and professional party goers were the demographics for this exclusive event; where all in attendance had two things in common – their very attractive faces and their desire to celebrate to kingdom come.

Passing through the glass doors into the interior, I entered a very suave and stylish space. Hues of chocolate brown dominated the decor, with the room separated into a few areas: the bar was at the far end of the room giving way to the dance floor and surrendering to the beautifully tiled DJ booth with a very comfortable raised lounging area to the side by the entrance. One could sit on the beautiful lounges and watch the DJ and dancers in comfort and style. The bathrooms proved quite elegant also. This was definitely an exclusive space and not intended to house a bulky crowd. It was personable. It was charming. It was intimate. And the benevolent dryad overseeing the beginnings of this illustrious party was DeeJay Katch at the decks, setting free lively beats and wavering melodies. Dressed simply in a tshirt and jeans, Katch’s presence, as was his music, was quite understated. This is to be expected really, as everyone was still in the “How do you do” stage. It is always interesting to observe people as they first enter an intimate social gathering. Everyone is trying to put their best faces forward yet remain standoffish and aloof. But you know within a few hours of alcoholic revelry, all pomposity and posturing will be quickly discarded as everyone in the room becomes ‘the best of friends’, while ‘the silly bitch’ who first ground your toe into the ground with her stiletto heel at the beginning of the evening, will, by night’s end, be proclaiming loudly to all and sundry your mutual BFF status. ‘Youre amazing.” “No – YOU’RE amazing!” will no doubt echo across the room as you both diligently try never to part from each other’s grip again.

Thus, Katch certainly had a challenge before him as the crowd was definitely not yet ripe for the plucking. The inside open bar was heaving with activity; the wonderful bar staff serving drinks left right and centre. Bartender Chris’s smile lit up the lovely chocolate laminated surface, as he served my order of beverages with elegance and aplomb. Meanwhile, Katch’s beats and melodies swathed our ears; establishing a jovial ambience with soulful female vocals offset by hiphop rhythms and light harmonic textures. Very few braved the dancefloor, reluctant to sweat the makeup off their faces or stain their beautifully cut shirts with body secretions – just yet. But Katch toiled on nevertheless, his varying meters and tunes a soothing balm for the preliminary stage to the evening. Towards the end of his set, the crowd noticeably began to react to his music. The extra burst of energy from our “Mother” Energy drinks kicking in, rent through the crowd like an eagerly spreading stain. The chatter and laughter was turned up a notch in response to the delightful rhythms and winding melodies fusing the atmosphere with revelry. Katch’s warm up limbered our ears and egos for what would prove to be the central feature for the night.

Matt Kitshon, uniquely garbed in what I’ve come to label as his ‘customary DJ livery’ – a black tshirt with a decorated tie and black wide legged pants that come to form as a sort of apron – stood beside Katch while the stimulating 90s beats wound down to a murky bellow. I have always found Matt Kitshon a fascinating character. His reputed kind and humble nature appears at conflict with his intriguing appearance as a multitude of swirling (and ever growing collection of) tattoos tints his light skin and his shaven head culminates into a top knot from which extends lengths of long thick strands of dark hair. I know that Matt is quite a gentle person, but I can never help the frisson of foreboding that crawls up my spine every time he takes to the decks – a fear that is always thrilling nevertheless (yes, even after some 10 years, he scares me!). Atop the decks, Matt Kitshon had a presence of malevolence as his arms crossed at angles while his hands turned and pushed at knobs and buttons. His head was wreathed in a brilliant shaft of luminosity, as his eyes appeared like sunken pits of black mire thanks to the eerie lighting from the dance floor. I wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or enthralled – but my attention was certainly annexed. With a tenderness that defies description, a multitude of potent rhythms floated gently across the room, to be then seized within the firm grasp of roaring musical textures. Immediately, the crowd responded in the only manner they could – they started dancing. To be caught under the spell of Matt Kitshon’s music is to be aurally and sensorially penetrated with artful handling, minute finesse and much infiltration. Every bodily orifice was overflowing with unbridled rhythms and bristling bass lines as piercing textures swept us all into a journey beyond the moment. Under his bewitchment, time lost all meaning as his music bashed at our sanity.

It was at this point that everyone in the room had become ‘the best of friends’. None of the previous stilted stiffness existed any longer. We were united by the exalted musical offerings of Matt Kitshon, enfolded within his composition and thus made as one. His beats ensnared us and cast our souls towards primeval organisms, as sublime deluge after sublime deluge washed us into oblivion. The crowd arrived at a universal climax when the unmistakable strains of “Last Night a DJ Saved My Life” hit the excellent system. Even I was moved to jump onto the floor and foxtrot like my very life depended upon it. We on the dance floor looked up to Matt as devoted supplicants adore their Pagan God; influenced by his ministrations and nurtured by his melodic aid. A crowd had gathered with arms raised on the carpeted step dividing the lounge from the dance floor and thus he was enclosed by our reverence. Matt could have chosen that moment to walk among us and we just may have smothered him with love.

It was almost with intense disappointment that I saw Pete Smith usurp Matt from his throne. Much as I love Pete and his music, Matt’s finish signalled the conclusion to an incredible night. As suddenly as this incredible ethereal being had appeared, Matt Kitshon had just as swiftly disappeared. The only indication he had ever been present was my residual breathless and exhilarated state. As the lights continued to shine brilliantly upon the decks, Pete Smith’s music soothed our frayed nerves and overwrought spirits. Rhythms fell over each other in a tumble of tumultuous meters like a cascading brook slowing to a trickle, while melodies buffeted the system like an acute wind against a steadfast building. Pete was obviously aware of the effect that Matt had inflicted upon us, and a determined overpowering sensitivity was slowly pervading the system. He rocked us on an ocean of resonance, the waves serene and temperate. His rhythms swayed through our bodies, a solace to the previous wreckage. Much like a spectre, I drifted from the room, entourage in tow; my mind still dreamily wandering amongst the constellations that Matt Kitshon had cast. The presentation of a Coca-Cola gift bag including an indispensable bottle of water and “Mother” energy drink, a flier promoting “After Dark” featured on Saturday nights at the same venue and a leather arm wristlet buoyed my spirits once more (aah.. such is woman’s fickle nature!). And thus into the night, I floated; all the greater for the incredible experience that now, unfortunately lay behind me. Such was the enchantment.

Love and Kisses, Lady Lex