- News that Luciano was to tour Australia sent shockwaves around the country which could be felt as far afield as Perth. Yet even for Melbourne and Sydney, those cities vying for the title of the nation's "dance music capital," this was big news—DJs of Luciano's pedigree don't come here often. Sydney reacted with typical (and classy) ostentation—hiring an 800-capacity yacht and leading Luciano, on a pedestal, around the harbour, while Melbourne took an altogether more rustic approach, sticking the minimal superstar, Robert Babicz and a slew of domestic talent in a dark, dingy cavern until 9 AM, letting it fester and seeing what emerged.
Photo credit: Scott Sandars
The cavern was Brown Alley, one of the city's finest clubs, a rabbit warren of large and small dance floors, lounges and bars, stairwells and crevices. It's one of those labyrinthine, disorienting places where, no matter how frequently you traverse its paths, you never quite figure how it all works—a crazy-house for grown ups. Beer was cheap, and the crowds were frantic. There were lots of them too: when we arrived at midnight, the queues were round the block, in both directions, but moving fast.
Once we got inside, Luciano was already on, his mix of Inner City's "Good Love" promising the housey-streak I—and many, it seemed—were hoping for. The floor was jumping, and in a warm and convivial small-room way. The DJ booth was positioned relatively low down, and a spiral staircase allowed you to perch over the dance floor, so it was easy to watch Luciano at work.
Musically, Luciano steered closely to the spirit of his Fabric mix, mixing jaunty Cadenza-esque bounce with tougher, spindly rhythms (I'm sure I heard "Bomberos," Alex Piconi's "Floppy" and plenty of Oslo rhythm), which the crowd lapped up. Here's where the night was special, though: There were whoops and hollers aplenty, and all I spoke to knew their music, and loved what they were hearing. This tempered the predictable male gender skew, an unavoidable trait of techno nights, but made for busy floors throughout the club, regardless of how banging the music was.
Photo credit: Scott Sandars
Luciano seemed to play for ages, but I can't be certain, as the latter part of the night drifted off into a blank and muddled haze. We caught some of Babicz, a tougher customer, his 'ardkore acidic touches and jagged, more contemporary sounds offering a welcome complement to what was going on downstairs. By the time we left at 7:30 the floors were active but thin, the music naturally sharpened, from which the rude shock of daylight brought the usual sense of confusion and loss. Nights like this don't come often enough.