Sabotage V Report

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.
DJ OF NITE: Biz-E
HI LITES: Blue Monday, Indian Summer, THAT Lazer
LO POINTS: all that General Pants endorsement, no encore

Petty Jealousies

My cat Peggy (aka Pumpkin, Peglet, Peg Peg, Pegasaurus, Peaches) has a new friend.

The other nite whilst I was dozing off, I heard her jump off the bed and start talking. As she is normally quite a talkative cat, I didnt pay much attention to her late nite babble. But when she started giggling my curiosity got the better of me.

Peggy was sitting in the middle of my room with a teeny tiny mouse. It was the smallest mouse I’ve ever seen and it was dark brown. They were just hanging out as though they do it all the time. The mouse might have been startled by the lite I turned on, because it did a couple of circles around Peggy as she sat there and then it ran through her legs! Peggy just looked up at me and said “So?”.

Peggy has caught and killed a number of rodents over the last 5 years that I’ve lived here so I wasnt terribly suprised to see a mouse in my bedroom. My main concern is that she doesnt leave the carcasses under my bed. Thankfully she prefers to leave them somewhere that I can see them. Good kitten.

So why the sudden change of heart? Why this mouse? And how long has this been going on? They obviously have a very close relationship judging by their body language. And here I was thinking that I was the centre of Peggy’s universe. Alas, it seems I shall have to share her affections…

Friendships can be so fickle sometimes.

Maybe I’m holding on too tight…

charlie the unicorn

[youtube BFP0q4qzGw4]

my flatmate is soft, he dont wanna get drunk

and now he’s saying he dont wanna watch Charlie the Unicorm and says he has quit pot! HA!

He does Yoga for the bitches

And he has lousy punch lines….

Don’t cha just love it when…

one of your favourite bands decides to tour your home town AND play at a camping festival small enough that you might just get to see them up close?!

I am thrilled that !!! are on their way.

Now I just gotta work on lcd sound system and my year’s mission is complete 🙂

some sticker on some car

“You don’t have to screw people over to survive”

Genteel Persuasions, a mild rant…

Current mood: annoyed

Tell me, how hard is it to say “Please” and “Thank You”??

I am totally jack of “professionals” who lord it over the rest of us, demanding the world yesterday…and then neglecting the small detail that makes it kinda ok to be a f!@#n jerk.

How do people with these ugly traits get where they are in life???

Beats me.

I think I’ll go start a crusade.

Thank you

swimming in the ocean is good for your aura

I’ve been pretty run down of late. What with the shit fight that is work everyday, and the cloud of hatred spewed out by olde baldy badger from upstairs, and ex-boyfriends who love to rub it in yo’ face…seen better days. My usually healthier diet has suffered, so too my sleep and exerzise regimes. I’ve been a mess. Times like these that the moniker kinda sticks…

The expression “Whinge Bag” springs to mind so i’ll stop there…

Solution: Get thee to the beach and go pull a wave over your head.

It worked a charm.

Nothing quite like having the wind knocked out of you as you struggle with your mortality under a ton of swirling saline.

Scotland the Rave

Ok, made it to the other side of the weekend that was Skye Music Festival, held on a old airstrip next to the ocean and did it fckn rain or what!

Fri nite was a proper rave alright….and i’m not talking about gabba, techno or happy hard…i’m talking aboot ACID HOUSE all nite long. Man… it was mad.

Sat hi-lite was mos def the Cuban Brothers who are the supreme entertainers.

Just saw the world famous Leopard Man from Skye who lives as a hermit with his loin cloth in a cave. Actually I saw him twice today. He was checkin out my beanie. Locals tell me that they thought he had died last winter as noone had seen him for about a year. I feel graced to have seen him at all, let alone twice in one day, not to mention that his eyes almost popped outta his head when he saw the explosion of wool on my noggin.

When I figure out how to upload a picture I’ll insert one here…

Yellow feat. Phil Smart @ Scary Canary 1st April 2006

Having only just discovered the celubriuos surrounds of Scary Canary, there was no way I was going to miss another excuse to shake my tail feather downtown at Yellow.

Situated just behind Town Hall on Kent St the birds nest in question is a spacious affair with acres of open space and cosy corners for weary soles. A simple yet impressive flock of intelligent lights perch around the corners of the dancefloor creating areas of bold colour and contrasting shadows. A lucid projector aims its eagle eye at a screen behind the DJ booth casting more movement and colour whilst the sound system delivers clean audio from tidy speakers rigged from the roof.

It seems that the total smoke ban has been lifted which came as a welome relief as I do like a bit of a drag when I bump n grind. And a spankin new dancefloor with no chewing gum to hinder a shimmy or slide is a pleasure to behold indeed.

Whilst I was’nt knocking back any hard liquor on this particular occasion, I can vouch that the generous glasses of non-sugary fizz were $3, and based on my vague recollection from last time, I am pretty sure that the drink prices were reasonable all round. Another feather in the Canary cap.

I have yet to figure out who is who down at Yellow. The DJs seem to multiply and mutate into each other after a few tracks making it tough to get a handle on their individual sound or style. Whilst I am more accustomed to settling in for a few hours of a set, this eclectic roster works well with the Yellow/Glitch sound – bumpy, chunky, riddled with pops and clicks and pant-splitting bass lines.

One DJ whose name, face and sound I am more familiar with was featured guest Phil Smart. I could go on about his sophisticated yet soulful ear and how he is the thinking punter’s DJ, but I figure that if you are reading this review then you’d already know. Phil Smart is my definitive favourite and tonite he delivered another textured and playful reminder of why. I’ve never been much of a tune spotter but I wish I could insert a few track titles here – . I imagine Phil dropped a fair slab of Junk Beat material but I was too busy riding a wave of bass to ask him.