Saturday, 13 March 2010

Hanging with the real life Arthur Baker

Thursday night saw us down at the Scala for Red Bull's penultimate party - 12 X 12 - an evening full of dance music heavyweights taking their best tune and stretching it out for 12 minutes. Why? Who knows but we, like nearly everyone else who rocked up, were there on a freebie. Who cares why.

Although the night itself had all the vibe of a corporate Christmas lunch, we made our own fun by getting pissed, smoking doobs and hanging with the 'celebs'. Jazzie B, Arthur Baker, A Guy Called Gerald, Shy FX and a fake Andy Williams were all papped. We hobnobbed with other members of the glitterati, aka totally fucked PR people and Observer journos too shitted to even speak.

We even asked Gerald how much Red Bull was paying him to tarnish his legacy of acid house in such a manner. My one regret (apart from not getting in until gone 3am. Again) was never having a chance to ask Heaven 17's Martyn Ware what the fuck he was thinking in providing the gakked up crowd with a karoake take on Temptation. I think we could have been watching an old man breakdown. I guess he could argue he was overseeing the breakdown of 'youth culture' in thrall to an energy drink.

Whatevs - the turn up for the books was hearing him not maim Heaven 17's Let Me Go. Such. A. Big. Tune.

Andy Williams vs the Dominator

Heaven 17's Martyn Ware committing a crime

Vibing in the VIP area

Shy FX vs the Dominator

The Cosmic King reaches a milestone

Last weekend was another large one. Almost too large for the brain and body to take. After embarrassing myself on Friday, Saturday was the Cosmic King's birthday. Following a breakfast involving a hearty, artery sludgifying black pudding scotch egg, it was time to continue playing up to parody. We took a trip down Old Compton Street to search out the original strength formula room odouriser, then burrowed our heads in boxes of 12 inches. We found this monster for 20p.

Beautifully packaged words

Pouring over the FT's obituaries

The evening was a suitable celebration befitting of the Cosmic one's 30th. Embarrassing images of the past coupled with a strong cake, delicious beers, solvent abuse and outlandish dancing. We even ended up at a house party with a PA in the front room and a floor buckling number of people dancing to the best Modular releases from 2006. Too strong.

Eyeing up the goods

Down the hatch

The Cosmic King goes mutant


Bashy denim vibes