- Listening to Mark Seven DJ for the first time is almost like joining a secret society: You feel privileged to have joined the club, immediately want him to start over again and have a nagging feeling that no other DJ set will ever quite live up to what you've just heard. As we stepped through the door on this night, Seven had just taken to the decks and was starting off with some spaced-out Balearic, but over the course of the night he whirled us through ecstatic piano house, pure unadulterated disco, wobbly acid, Dolly-esque country and some heart-wrenching deep house that sounded like it could have come from Ben Watt or Jimpster's bag—but, of course, pitched down to about minus 8.
A few big tunes raised their heads above the parapet—Eurythmics' "Love Is a Stranger," Debbie Jacobs' "High on Your Love" and even Giorgio Moroder's "I Feel Love" bassline made an appearance at some point—but these were soon lost in the haze of new and old music that you wished you knew the name of, but were having far too much fun to care.
Photo credit: Timur Caglar
With a smile on his face and some serious shoulder movements going down, Mark Seven looked like he was enjoying it as much as the crowd. The dance floor stayed just the right level of full all night, and the intimate atmosphere made you feel like you'd stumbled across the best kind of house party: chatty people, big smiles all around and plenty of whoops and cheers on the dance floor.
The venue was perfect for the night. Usually the words warehouse party conjure up images of scuzzy black walls and portaloos—all well and good in many ways—but this "secret location" in the western suburbs of Sydney was more New York loft party than warehouse rave. White walls adorned with '70s mirrors and oddball artwork, disco balls aplenty, sofas for tired souls to lounge on and a bar where you could bring your own booze while that bar staff would helpfully stick your name on the bottle and serve you whenever you got thirsty. Does it get better than that?
Photo credit: Timur Caglar
No matter that we didn't know it was BYOB. We barely left the dance floor all night. When a DJ makes your head spin after only two beers, you know he's doing something right. Everyone around us clearly felt the same way - the crowd had barely thinned at 4 AM, and cries of "one more" soon led to "three more" then "five more!" When Seven finally stepped down from duty, he was greeted by a barrage of hands, of which he made the effort to shake every single one. Just don't try asking him what that last tune was—you'll get a mischievous smile in return. This is DJ who, in his own words, "has spent the last ten years looking for records." You can't expect him to give away all his secrets...