- This scribe doesn't usually frequent super-uber-Clubs, Fabric aside, and to be honest with you, sexy reader, Fabric and I aren't on very good terms since I jumped off their balcony. Twice. And got kicked out.. three times. Fark, I even waited two months before making another assault on the labyrinth, but I was vetoed 40 metres from the door by burly bouncers shouting "THAT MAN NOT COMING IN TONIGHT!!" No amount of guest list talk, previous R.A reviews and foot-massage promises would get me in....
Thus:
Enter the Pacha.
With a monstrously laaaaarge sound system, you can't really fuck it up at Pacha. Or can you? The Bodyrockers tore it up nicely, building up their chunky Jaxx-by-numbers sound and the anticipation for current club classic (shelf life: 4 months, pre-remix) "I Like The Way". Strong tune, but needs a remix to remove the cliché, kapiche?
The main problem with the Bodyrockers was the front-man, Dylan Burns, poncing around like a cross-between Jessica Rabbit and Jay Kay. Now, I dig both Jessica Rabbit and Jay Kay (not many of us left) but when you put them together you get this tool, who was like a parody of himself, letting his fringe cover one eye while he soul-arched his torso like he wanted to join INXS as their 48th replacement front man. He sucked. Luckily, the Bodyrockers had strong enough tunes to hide this, "I Like The Way" got us waving them around like we just don't care. But the crowd seemed to grow jack of him, and when Burns closed with the fake-smile "Thanks to all you beautiful people out there" the response was more YEEEEEUCHHH than YEAH-YAH. Props to Kaz though, Melbourne boy made good sans ego.
Following their live set, Paul Barkworth cranked Soulwax 'NY Excuse', which sounded wonderful perched on the bassbins at the back of the dancefloor. Desperate housewives can forget washing machines, this is the ticket.
MEMO to self: Music analysis lacking thusfar.
Enter the Ninja Cowboys
Side rooms are always the gems of big clubs, and upstairs at Pacha is a purrrrrfect example. This is where this review gets good. A tantalising trio of post-Shoreditch haircuts, the Ninja Cowboys shellacked the upstairs sound system into submission. In between rumbling "Shot You Down" (Audio Bullys) and plenty of electro goodness, they dropped Juliet "Avalon" like it was quite warm indeed. Drop it. The Ninja Cowboys throbbed out smashing highhats and filthy kickdrums with panache, triggering tribal-dancing around the dimly lit mahogany floor, as we lollyed back and forth, headbutting the tassel on the end of the bed/seat/springboard. Three cheers for the chandeliers. Sideroom 3, Mainroom 1.
If I Recall Correctly
* We didn't get kicked out of Pacha when we clearly should have. Powder, baby.
* The Mike Tyson result (retired hurt) spread like wildfire. P.L.U.R... and an ear-biter.
* At the afterparty at The Egg, Radar Adamson had black betties gyrating in front of him while DJ Rodrigo slammed sleazy electro house. Buzz Junkies the lot of ya. Bowling, Addo
* I fell over onto a table while dancing at the back of the Pacha mainroom. And got straight back up and tore it up double-hard. {insert caveman sound}
* A chick called Lee and her band of merry men danced funny. I would say badly, but they were our adopted crew for the night in Pacha and they were bloody lovely.
* A canoodling couple at the ATM gave me a CD that looked pretty shabby titled 'SOS' Mr Lawrence.
* A young American dude Dave got paranoid, after earlier being good value, and gave me a death stare as he left, suddenly. Poor thing.
* There was a Polish guy in leather pants and a crepe leather jacket at the after party who danced outside by himself for hours, singing 'All Night Long', unaware that, like the BodyRockers singer, he was a parody of himself.
* When we got back to New Cross Gate and had our mini-after-party we played the Mr Lawrence CD 3 times in a row. 'Twas a scorcher after all.