- What does it take to stop a good DJ from rocking the club? A poor crowd can slow the vibe of a night, but a dedicated punter can still have a good time. But bad management is the thing that can really ruin a night for everyone. This was clearly on show on Sunday night at Revolver when Mr Scruff’s set was lacking due to those running the club not being prepared to put in the effort to run the night properly. Late start times; surly security staff; and uninspired layout decisions undermined the laid-back vibe that Scruff’s quality music generated.
A Sunday evening gig was always going to be tricky, especially with an artist of Mr Scruff’s calibre. Add to this the outstanding sets that he played at the 2003 Vibes on a Summer’s Day festival and the subsequent gig at Revolver (incorporating my vote for rewind of 2003) and you have some high expectations to contend with. Presale tickets had gone quickly and there was a line outside the club before the doors were slated to open at 6pm. Mr Scruff was slated to play a five-hour set, starting at eight o’clock. Our little group arrived and struggled into the already busy (though by no means packed) club, braving door staff hassles and door list gambits. People were already being turned away from the supposedly full club, when we went upstairs and tried to work out where Mr Scruff would play, and thus where we should stand.
Previously he’d played the back room where the abundance of couches made for the perfect atmosphere to listen to possibly the only DJ whose merchandise catalogue includes teapots and sets of coaster. But it seemed like Scruff was set to play to the front room, which was standing room only, and suffers from heat issues at the best of times. Further to this, the Thai restaurant out the back hadn’t opened making dining impossible. I’m not exactly sure what they were expecting people to do since this meant that some people had been lining up since half past five and wouldn’t be able to get anything to eat till passouts were supposed to start at half past eleven. As it was, we downed a beer or two to tide us over while we stared at an empty stage and waited for Mr Scruff.
Eventually, an hour and a half late, Mr Scruff got on stage, by this point the room was really packed and the anticipation was palpable. The DJ console was one of the largest I’ve seen, consisting of three turntables, two CDJ units, a huge mixer, and a battery of EQ and effects units. And Scruff had brought plenty of music to feed this menagerie of sound equipment. He began the set with some classic Ninja Tune downtempo beats, and then took it reggae for a little while. The crowd was too packed in for proper dancing so they stomped around and clapped their appreciation when one of Mr Scruff’s own tunes, Ug, led the charge into a compendium of old, jazzy, funky seven-inch tunes.
Mr Scruff’s mixing style was a little rough and ready; you knew when tracks where changing, yet mixes were always in time and never seemed overly harsh. The combinations and juxtapositions of sounds that he played kept things interesting, though the pace of transitions and general style was more suited to contemplative chin-scratching than a dancefloor frenzy. The crowd was having a good time, but didn’t really seem to have the energy usually seen in a mob that size. The music was great, but as someone at the night put it: I’d rather have Mr Scruff playing this stuff in my living room with some friends over than be here. I would say that Scruff delivers an excellent set, but it’s best taken sitting down. Meanwhile the attitude of the security staff hadn’t changed, with security telling me off for crouching on the side of the stage for ten seconds to take a photo and not getting into the friendly spirit of the night that the dancefloor was exuding.
The main room started to heat up as soon as Mr Scruff’s set started and after an hour it was becoming unbearable, yet the back room was comparatively deserted. We waited near the entrance for half past eleven to roll around so that a short food break could be taken.
When the time rolled around, the security staff member at the door rudely informed us that passouts would not be issued for the night, despite what he’d said earlier. Needless to say, attempts to get an explanation for this were met with terse rudeness. This led to a difficult choice: Food or Scruff? In the end, the cramped atmosphere, and the rude staff led us to leave rather early, hoping to grab a bite and come back, since we’d been stamped on entrance and others seemed to have gone and come back. Attempts to get back into Revolver later were unsuccessful, leaving us shaking our heads at how bad management could change what had the potential to be one of the year’s best nights into one of year’s most forgettable.