- More so than in the northern hemisphere, Australia's musical agenda is seasonal, with a high peak in summer and a considerable dip during winter. You could say that it's a kind of win-win situation: over the Christmas and New Year's period, Australian workers and students have time off and touring artists get the opportunity to escape the winter for a few weeks.
The first big event of the summer season was a Golden Cage gig at The Metro, a medium-sized inner city venue that sees more bands than DJs perform at its premises. Headlining the night was Carl Craig, one of the most celebrated men in techno. I hadn't seen the Detroit native play in years, but I can recall catching several great eclectic sets in a squatted South Amsterdam church as well as numerous big room ones where his main purpose seemed to please those who approve of anything as long as it lives up to a simple 130 BPM aesthetic. To me this always felt like an odd choice for an artist of his stature—you'd think he'd be confident enough to be an entertaining teacher rather than limiting himself to just one fast-paced subgenre.
Photo credit: Alexis Wuillaume
With a partly muscular, partly high-heeled audience, Sydney seemed to be waiting for driving bass lines to sort them out. The cool mezzanine level of The Metro, populated by keen dancers and local DJs spinning generic minimalist house, was an early indicator of a night without much adventure. John Roberts was the first international artist to appear on the main stage. An act well suited for warm-up slots, his live performance of moody and lo-fi house didn't do the trick for most of the attending Sydneysiders who looked like they were discussing their professional and family lives (most of them seemed to be in their early 30s) while he was on stage. Much better received were the sets by local selector Claire Morgan and the Detroit techno-siblings of Octave One. The latter played live and would have to be the most energetic head nodders I have ever seen in my life.
When Craig arrived behind the decks at 3:30 AM, he kicked off with a futuristic intro. I'd like to compare this Blade Runner-esque section of his set with watching a series of penalties during a football world cup. Unfortunately—as is the case in 50 percent of all sports matches you watch—these shivering moments ended in a major letdown. After abruptly bending his knees as he dropped the first kick, Craig decided to play a series of smoothly blended, warm techno tools. All of them agreeable, but surely short of what you'd expect from one of electronic music's true visionaries. The man behind Paperclip People, 69 and BFC hadn't been my cup of tea tonight, but his set undoubtedly satisfied most of those present, including those who were still going when I bumped into them the next night on Oxford Street, one of this city's main nightlife thoroughfares.