Thursday, 21 May 2009

31 floors high and rising


Ready ready ready. It's been too hot of late to sit inside tippy tapping away at the ol' digital joanna. The keys are sweating as this computer's coming down with the digital equivalent of swine flu. But hell's teeth we've been at the front line again...

T’other Friday the question was who don’t want to go 31 floors up to the top of a building to get on down to the disco boogie. The 15 quid ticket price and half an arm for a drinky winky was worth it purely for a life affirmingly large view.

Remember how alive you felt when the balls dropped for the first time? Or when you discovered that amyl nitrate was so reasonably priced and readily available? Reverse at top of the Centrepoint building in central London aped them raw, savage feelings in terms of both view and vibe.

The flex was Greg Wilson, electro funk roots dude with an re-dit attiTOOODE aided and abetted by London lumos Guy Williams, Serge Santiago and Dan Bloodbath Beaumont. The crowd was a wild mixture of suits, don’t knows, orange faces and cokey lokos who blocked the cubicles and waved their arms about like it wasn’t £8 for a G&T. I shit you not.

Predictably we wringed every last drop of hype out of the evening, necking the shots, necking the beers and a new academic design named MAMA. I don’t remember a thing about the sunrise. It was cloudy and my brains were addled but Greg Wilson did his reel-to-reel ting with suitable aplomb for a man whose been riding the disco zeitgeist before Primark cardigans and Dalston were nowt but a blink in Time Out’s eye. I don’t think going out will ever be the same again.

Get down


Vibe Vibe

Vibe Vibe Vibe

Love is in the air