Sabotage V Report

Posted by walking rek on Mar 21, 2007 in dancing rek |

Upon rocking up at the Metro, having already employed the oft-forgot parking station option and therefore shaving a good 30mins off our ETA, we bypassed the early bird queue in favour of a liquid lounge. When we returned to the lane next to the Metro, the situation appeared much worse, even more so when we discovered that more then a few other people had the same idea as us, resulting in a severe glut of spare tickets. There was an unheard of average of 3 tickets per interested party, and for the record, tickets were going for peanuts. So much for a lil bit’o free enterprise. Whatever, we weren’t going to hang around for some unlucky sucker to dupe, so taking timely advantage of that familiar face up near the front of the line, we almost didn’t have a chance to discuss the unfortunate demise of the Metro side entrance. After a nod from security we climbed the stairs and missed regular door girls Deb&Co whose absence was conspicuous. Perhaps they were getting a drink. A fine idea.

To the bar. Buying a Crown Lager somehow loses its appeal when served in a plastic cup. Never the less, old habits die hard and the “King of All Beer” is no exception. Best enjoyed from the greatest view in the house, one can then allow for a certain degree of spillage as you negotiate your way to the upper section of the big room. There is a sense of calm before the storm as you savour the flavour whilst taking the in the surrounds and discuss the running order of the DJ’s for the nite.

First up is the Biz. We decide to stick around in our vantage point. This guy is simply exciting to watch. Pure class. From a performance perspective Biz entertains with his characteristic and dynamic gestures: sharp, slick and quick, this guy is Born to Get Biz-E. Tonite he was hammin’ it up, giggling to himself in anticipation of the crowds’ reaction to the next track, kickin’ around behind the dex with that nonchalant air that has endeared him to many. Biz-E set the musical agenda for the nite with a hectic mix of acidic textures and big fat ole ass in the tekkers and electro vein, working back through to that kinky disco sound. From recollection that is. Anyhow, he ripped shit like always. At the end of his set Biz-E also ripped off what may have been a compulsory Sabotage 5 t-shirt, displaying not only a well defined torso but his outright contempt for marketing merchandise. Maybe he just wanted to change. Whatever. Biz-E left us wanting more, which is what we wanted, and on came King Kenny with a crate full of killers and big smirk.

The second set of the nite ain’t an easy slot. You gotta kinda ride the clutch. Ken was champin’ at the bit as though he too wanted to let loose, hinting at harder things to come in his seamless delivery of fine musical moments. Nevertheless, he kept the pot simmering gently and thrust the bass in our face when necessary. Apart from that, I cannot remember anymore about Ken’s set except that it was all over a lil too soon. And that there was some kind of commotion going on down behind the dex with him.

Perhaps it was in anticipation of a Mister Pocket and his bag of goodies. Always outstanding, tonite was no exception. Combining some vintage material with fresher produce, Pocket offered an energetic and entertaining showcase of varied deelites. The opening number was pure Pocket magic with the epic soul searcher Indian Summer heralding the start of his set.

By now the energy of the room was soaring. We wanted the main course. Up popped Sugar Ray right on cue and proceeded to do some damage to our already throbbing limbs. Shoogzie worked us with an unrelenting yet unspectacular mix of harder beats; a few classic numbers rescued this shell of a set from mediocrity but I still found it hard to leave the room.

Still riveted at 5am when Phil Smart sauntered out to take over the wheel. Some consider the final set of the nite to be the most crucial, the one by which we remember the whole party experience, perhaps the most anticipated set of the evening, and one certainly worth sticking around to hear. A special DJ will give you a decent hed-fuk that will linger for a couple of weeks. Phil’s uncanny intuitive manner and musical presence lend his end-o-niters certain qualities that make this slot his very own: no body does the 5-7am better then Phil. With a penchant for slippin’ in a retro classic, tonite Phil treated our over-loaded senses to a moody Blue Monday and we lapped it up. Once again Phil played a challenging set, rounding off a night of moving music.

The memory of Sabotage 5 was dampened only by the defiant lack of encore at the end of the party. End of set, lights up, every body out. No amount of “One More!!!” was going to give us one final concluding movement in the symphony that had proceeded; like a story without an epilogue, the party ended without resolution. I have always considered the encore to be a gesture of appreciation toward the dancers who have given it up on behalf of the DJ’s, but on this occasion it appeared that we did not give enough. Either that, or Metro management pulled the plug. Whatever, Sabs 5 was over and we were out.
HI LITES: Blue Monday, Indian Summer, THAT Lazer
LO POINTS: all that General Pants endorsement, no encore


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