I arrived in the middle of The Mollusk and was instantaneously dropped to the ocean floor. Here, in the deepest murkiest fathoms of life, a wonderland of variety and friendliness resides. It was ‘Shark Tale’ meets the bar scene in ‘Star Wars’. My eyes adjusted to the room with soft blues and reds flickering off the stage. I began to observe more details of the coral magic around me. One young octopussy was twirling her blue-tipped tentacles in a routine that drew a male squid to attempt the same. Everyone was in, and nobody was out. No anxieties or unhealthy egos to abide.

The Mollusk himself was bending above his sampler with sweaty locks flicking to the bopping beats. Fine fingers worked the dials and he was diggin’ his own wash water. Groovy, popping beats and tunes were interspersed with jazz samples to pepper a twist. This got one girl doing a very fine cartwheel. Each individual dancer was attempting to squeeze out the music through their bodies by whatever interpretations of the vibes they could induce their limbs to produce. Bridging between sets came Dakini, but we’ll have more about her later.

Next up was three piece Editor. Demonic bass, haunted trumpet, Nintendo blips and other tripped up stuff. The tempo was sub slow, almost plodding, as dancers hung with gravity-defying moves. Two of the guys on a table together had a brother-like synchronicity of movement. The third seemed in a distant parallel universe. Gradually and imperceptibly the tempo lifted which thickened the atmosphere. But as the set continued it started to wane such that up at the bar it was the noise of the pub chatter that dominated. The music was not bad, it just did not seem to be going in a direction that most people present wanted to go.

Once Dakini took to the decks and it was as though somebody had suddenly found the air conditioner ‘on’ switch (maybe they had!). Gushes of fresh cool air relieved the humidity as she confidently weaved potent influence over solid groove. The music proffered imagery to the mind and the mood of the evening was entirely lifted. There was anticipation of the headline act, but Dakini addressed that anticipation with authority, also bringing a powerful feminine influence to the soundscape. Stiffness in people’s bodies dissipating as she guided them towards their second wind. Dakini worked from decks in a discreet dark corner. The Mistress of Shadows! The breadth of her musical understanding gave for rapid exchanges between styles from plodding electronica to driving, winding trance. Introductions of vocal line over rollicking percussiveness had folk bopping as they hustled to a spot for the main act. Her music was a mood meter + mood maker. Dakini piloted her set to a smooth landing and then the curtains opened to reveal the wizards.

Whip, whopp, arrhhh, zipp, fappp (car starts)… automobiles… wine bottles, pop pop pop… teeth… hands… and no less than a giant egg working very effectively as a convexly distortive screen device for the rolling visual projections. Spoonbill hit the ground running with their highly sophisticated, technically exquisite and creatively crafted ‘complete’ presentation. This included two woman acting it up as if Windsor Castle had been struck by ‘something’ crazy. A 3m long rolled foam omelette was handed out for crowd surfing. The music had an electronic basis with live acoustic instruments, vocal performance and at this point a predominantly reggae groove. Live trombone (with live video feed layered to the visuals) drove with the echoing melody. It phased then to a mood more humorous and crisp. Reggae morphed to upbeat riffs and brought fresh edge to the sound. Then, dramatic shift to a haunting quick-toungued trumpet with (an excellent) female vocalist and male vocal support. This prompted memories of Alice in Ultraland as a quirky influence pervaded us all.

A photographer, Phil, and I were down front checking out two of the artists. He suggested they might be Vjs. I said “Well, would a guy with an egg on his head be a V or a D…j?” He suggested “E..j!” There was flamenco guitar with rollicking rhythm that had potential to go barrelling! Phil continued “Or, maybe they are just up there doing their Uni assignments – why stay at home?” I said “I reckon he might be cracking the formula to Benzedrine… C9H13N isn’t it?” “Ah look, he is in to Langley – the NOC list!”…… Yeah, we had all just gone deliciously mad witnessing this performance. The music + visuals took us on a whizzing whirling ride through streets, frogs, jazz dance and orchestra masters. The trumpet with us all the way!

The leading man of Spoonbill, Jim Moynihan, was loving his work. Clear eyed, bouncy and in his element moving between his mactop and sampling dials with what was by now a scat-swinging funk. Thick bass sculpted deep groove. Batman… catman… birds on boats… birds in bikinis… birds of wing… birds of prey… and still that live video feed, this time of the crowd as seen from the stage, and then up the trumpet bell. Encore was a ‘take’ on 80s rock with some seriously proficient heavy metal gittarrrrh morphing to Power Ballad. On stepped DJ Mustaphaa with solid dub. Once all of the Spoonbill faithful had cleared from the space the ‘partee’ faithful kicked on with no mucking around! Mustaphaa currently resides in Alice Springs where he “attempts to infuse the sensations of the vast expanse of the desert into his musical expression… Don’t force it – feel it!”

This is rare, BUT I do not hesitate to suggest that this man is no less than a musical genius. Hard, soft, driving, sensitive, finely balanced aural bliss. He was ‘wielding’ the music on a non-stop journey. As though levitating through the dance floor he took a fat brush and doused each individual with thick wads of musical paint. Not much else need be said about DJ Mustaphaa other than DO WHATEVER YOU CAN TO SEE THIS GUY.