- Global Lathering
GATHERING 'ROUND THE FRIDAY GLOBE
For the first time in its brief history, Global Gathering decided to extend the duration of dance madness to two nights and most of the day in between. A killer line-up brought together some of the best acts from all over the globe, with the price tag for the weekend a little over £90. Thus, it was always going to attract a generous mix of punters. Though judging by the accents, most of the mass assembled were from north of Birmingham, like.
We made our way up from London on the Friday necking red wine from a bottle and listening to Underworld in preparation for their slot that night, though a solid balls-up by the organisers almost thwarted any chance we had of catching them in the act.
A queue of hundreds for event wristbands was inching along at snail’s pace (2 hours was estimated time) - add to this the fact that no act times were displayed on the GG website that day. Thus we decided to take the risk, ditched the camping gear back in the wagon and headed for a less crowded entrance.
As we ran back to GG past the old airplanes, “Dark Train” could be heard (Underworld had begun!), and faced with the unknown that is Security – I decided that I was getting in one way or another.
SECURITY: “You can’t come in without a wristband!”
B-WISE: “That is all well and good, but if you think I’m missing the
remainder of this night because you have only one poorly organised queue for
wristbands you are dead wrong I’m afraid. Also, I’m here to do a review.”
SECURITY: “Well that’s all good and well too, but you still need a
wristband!”
B-WISE: “You know what, you’re right…”
At this point I walked past the security guards briskly but without running, utterly surprised that this lame effort actually saw me, minutes later, in the front row of the Beach Stage to witness Karl Hyde dancing like he was trying to worm his way out of an imaginary strait jacket. The sight of Darren Emerson behind the decks with his old posse was a sight for bleary eyes, and “King of Snake” assured flying sand from beneath the shuffling crowd.
It was amazing to see the trio back together performing, but in all honesty, the sound was not loud enough. Their set selection was classic with other songs such as “Pearl’s Girl”, “Jumbo” and “Born Slippy” getting a call up, and Hyde using a mini-cam to relay his gyrations onto the massive screen behind was nothing short of a masterstroke – but in the front row of a reunion act so significant in the dance world this year, how was it possible you could have a leisurely chat to other fans without raising your voice in any way!? Our ear drums should have been severed like Uncle Chop Chop!
Heading back into the middle of GG, the bright lights of the amusement rides, the screams of those taking the bungee plunge in the night sky and the drum and bass from the outside mini-stages rocked the senses. Kosheen strangely followed Paul Oakenfold in the Global Main Arena, but low on funds after forking out the forking ridiculous £6 for a programme (ahh, that’s why they didn’t list the times on the website!) Cash Money in the Afrodizzyscratch Arena could be the only choice.
The former DMC World DJ Champion played an energising set, mixing classic hip hop tracks at the rate of knots. “Jump Around” dictated the crowd’s movement and ‘woohoos’ rung around the tent as the Jackson Five were slipped in. The Beasties were represented in full effect with “Intergalactic Planetary.”
Cash Money was a perfect warm up for DJ Yoda, who followed up a great set at Fabric the week before with this mood lifting performance. “Meditate on this, I will” was swapped for “Dance to this, we shall!” as Yoda funked the night away with a solid mix of tracks spliced in from decades past. 'Ring of Fire' became the trumpetalong tune of the weekend, seeming to fit any situation like a Simpsons quote. Yoda mixed Nina Simone's 'My Baby Just Cares For Me' with a suitably sexstompy breakbeat, taking the vibe briefly from wedding reception to stratford-upon-ravon.
"'Flashdance' oozed out, growing from a glowing ember of a bassline into sound that would have burnt the sun. "
Floating back out of the tent and meandering past a variety of totalled units in states varying from ‘stumbling diagonally’ to ‘face down in the grass’, we happily found ourselves in the midst of Deep Dish. The warmth of the tent was muchos conducive to moving one’s body, and even a little dance-floor massaging was far from unappreciated at the time from the Em&Em(s). 37 year old chickadees still holding up beautifully, who supplied fresh prawns, electro-house car-beats and a tasty tent after the GG tents closed up at 2am. But enough of that culinary recollection and back to Friday's main course, Deep Dish. 'Flashdance' oozed out, growing from a glowing ember of a bassline into sound that would have burnt the sun. Current bootleg 'Flashing for Money' gets us playing the Strater-Casters and high-pitching 'I want my MTVeee'. Blue lasers glide over us ... and then Sharam Tayebi drops in a track with as much electro madness as this hackney hack has witnessed. He proceeds to do the chug-chug -house-into-electro trick three more times during his set, getting slightly better each time until he reaches his zenith at 2am and, like Keyser Soze, phwfffft, he is gone.
THE MORNING AFTER THE MORNING EARLIER
We rise at 11am, mosey via the Shambolique tent for some hommus on toast and a chat with a mentalist who is wearing a Dead Rockstars pyjama-shirt. We set up base (read: grassy recuperation spot) outside the Carl Cox and Friends tent. Tintin Chambers is rocking it smoothly with minimal funky shit and we manage to milk enough jokes from his name while watching the people walk quite proficiently. After earlier purchasing paracetamol we are approached by a man who fixes us up with a blue delicacy. Good enough for the Matrix, good enough for us.
Krafty Kuts is grinning away, 'Tricka Technology' trickling out with well-timed boppability for the afternoon. We linger to watch him and start to get our freak on nicely. Hyper follows with more breakbeat goodness and the people are starting to talk about tonight instead of reminiscing about last night. In the words of Gene Wilder, "You can't get out backwards. You gotta go forwards to go back, better press on."
"In the words of Gene Wilder, "You can't get out backwards. You gotta go forwards to go back, better press on.""
Umek is heating it up in the techno tent, making bubble noises and exploding signals with his hands, to the beat of his manically funky techno. The Slovenian magician wins the early crowd over with guys and gals getting booty to booty-tek.
More flitting, as we talk an amigo, Uncle Chop Chop, into bungee jumping. Strike, reverse that, as he talks himself into it and we enjoy a vicarious plunge. Whooosh. Carl Cox is finally on, bellowing out his pep-talks under a foundation of funkiness, including the same sexed-up house track Deep Dish played, the words ringing out 'Are you a freak?' as a statement of intent. Massive. He's joined by a percussionist who gets meditribal on our asses while Cox trumps him with rolling basslines.
We roll back to Adam Freeland doing his 'Teen Spirit' moment, which is both wikid and hysterical, as Freeland divas up like Felix from Basement Jaxx, catching flies as he sways his torso like a twister. Tim Deluxe is also dropping his jaw looking like Mick Hucknall channelling the powers of Guru Josh, mixing in 'Blue Monday' (New Order) with sublime precision. He strips it back to its original beat and unleashing it consummately. "GO AWN GINGA!!!" His mixing slides off the boil and we flit once more to the Air tent.
"More flitting, as we talk an amigo, Uncle Chop Chop, into bungee jumping. Strike, reverse that, as he talks himself into it and we enjoy a vicarious plunge. Whooosh.""
Beats of the fractured variety beckon, we catch Ali B playing Plan B 'No New Styles', hip-ass hornage. I stop a Yardie-looking mofo leaving the tent with his mates and make him pause to hear the splashy cymbal moment in the track. He loses his scowling demeanour and breaks out grinning like a Polysexual punter. And for the record, no-one in our posse perused the Polysexual (ie. tryHARDHOUSE) Tent.
The magnetic power of the Air tent gains our services again, as we Melbourne shuffle and learn, listen. The Stanton Warriors weave their magic over the weary crowd, kerthumping their spontaneous selection right down to their last track, when the MC reminds us to 'Fasten Your Seatbelts' and then the lads throw out the hottest tune of the festival, with the lyric 'Soundboy' sprinkled in. Trainspotters please email me. The volume and vibe rise to a level that would have the Bard barred, if indeed he is playing, which is hard to tell at this stage of Global Gathering. All I really know is that I'd lost a pound of flesh from dancing and I couldn't be hippier.
Evil Nine 'Burn It to The Ground' with their opener, carrying us past 5am and following up with a cover of 'Hello I Love You Won't You Tell Me Your Name'. A charged-up P.E. teacher girl flexes her impressive calves, screams the vocals out and is warmly received. She wasn't even on stage. The Evil Nine lads make the metal sign and we return the sentiment by grinding the grass.
"I stop a Yardie-looking mofo leaving the tent with his mates and make him pause to hear the splashy cymbal moment in the track. He loses his scowling demeanour and breaks out grinning like a Polysexual punter."
MENTALISTIC MAGIC
Em and Em, the still-yummy 37 year old lasses, remind us to "Make Pottery History". I wake up in their tent with them and count my blessings, though no flags were gained.
On the train back to Leamington we exchange 8 slices of tandoori pizza for a chunk of skunk. God bless those Spanish cats.
"It's a bit early in the morning for kung-fu" quips a geezer wrestling his mate at the back of the bus, causing myself and the two other Chopper devotees to swing our heads around and quote from the film for ten mins.
A lovely Scottish lasses Elissa blows pixie dust all over my face from her purple pouch. I swear it happened because there is a photo of it in my phone.
Plenty of wenches with wedgies walk past, with the odd hottie in hot pants.
A monged-out legend with LOTS of beer left over is only too happy to give me a Kronenbourg on the last morning while we wait in line for the shuttlebus. He declines my exchange offer of an apple and a bag of Space Raiders. And looks queasy.
TOP 5 T-SHIRTS
1. 'Ziggy Stardust' Psychedelic pattern
2. Mellow Stages 'Let Your Fingers Do The Rolling'.
3. Friends in High Places
4. Scarface
5. Behind Every Great Woman .. There's a Man Checking Out Her Ass