I was glancing over my CD
collection the other week, looking for something cool to have in the background
while we sat down to the family dinner I had just prepared, when suddenly
something horrific caught my eye. Two titles – hiding in amongst my other music
– like a pair of undercover agents on a stake out.
UB40 and Manic Street Preachers.
What….the….fuck??
No, surely not. I read the spine
of each CD case twice more to make sure this wasn’t some form of vulgar
hallucination. U-B-40. Manic-Street-Preachers. I checked the date on my watch –
nope, it wasn’t 1st April. I know what you’re thinking – how the
hell did you cope John? Well I’ve watched some Ray Mears survival shows on TV
so I know that in situations like this it is imperative to remain calm and not
panic. I closed my eyes, swallowed hard and took a deep breath. I then
carefully removed the suspect materials, apologised profusely to the rest of my
music collection and escorted the aforementioned albums to the waste paper
basket. I had garlic on my hands so they were due for a thorough wash anyway
but even with a double dousing in Sanex antibacterial scrub – they still felt
contaminated.
Dinner was obviously ruined. How
could I eat knowing someone had tampered with our music? It’s one thing to borrow
or steal from a friend’s CD collection but it’s quite another to offload your
own interpretation of “good music” into a man’s collection. I felt violated.
Dirty. Fuck Sanex – I need a shower in Detol.
After a relatively chilled 24
hours at home following my return from the crazy Trance Energy tour in
Australia I head back to Heathrow and catch my flight to Buenos Aries for the
last two gigs in this busy month. I’m shattered and haven’t really caught up on
the sleep I lost while down under so it’s a relief to find the flight is only
60% full and I am able to commandeer 2 extra seats besides my own and lie
across them in a deep sleep for most of the journey.
Following a brief stop in Sao
Paulo to refuel and allow those passengers heading for Brazil to disembark
(have you heard in flight crews use the word “disembarkation” before? Surely
that’s not a proper word is it? They’ve made it up and got away with it!!)
we’re back in the air bound for Buenos Aries.
On arrival I meet Javier and we
go and chill by the pool for a few hours before starting the long drive to
Rosario for the first gig of the weekend. We share a few glasses of red and
some amazing local delicacies - small pastries containing a variety of
different fillings - cheese & spinach / meat / ham and cheese. I have
forgotten what they are called but they are truly delicious. Against Javier’s
advise I jump in the pool for a quick swim. As soon as I enter the icy water I
wish I’d listened to him, but when I emerge I pretend otherwise.
Eventually we hit the road for
Rosario. This is a drive I have done once before, but that was at night.
The suburbs of Buenos Aries give
way to the spectacular Argentinean countryside – which opens up all around us.
A memorising mix of luscious green colours in every direction with no changes
in gradient make the skyline seem much further away - this is agricultural land
at its most epic. The panoramic views are topped with a remarkable sky - like
nothing I have ever seen before. It too seems to stretch on far beyond the
horizon and is beginning to turn a vivid crimson red colour as the sun begins
to set. It is without exception the most incredible sunset I have ever
witnessed. The clarity and sharpness of the clouds together with the richness
of the colours is just unbelievable. Javier tells me that when Princess Diana
visited Argentina – she too was captivated by the sky and how endless it
seemed. I concur with her.
As we drive we discuss green
issues and listen to one of the NU NRG Orgasmatron radio sets. The green issues
are of the highest order and so I’m in a deliciously heady haze - grinning like
a Cheshire cat while simultaneously gripping the seat in terror as Javier guns
the controls like Michael Schumacher. With the sun shining directly into our
eyes I can barely see the road in front of us – lets alone the cars we pass at
lightning speed.
We get to Rosario as day gives
way to night. The beautiful city has a wonderful mixture of amazing
architecture and it also seems to have a unique and vibrant energy. I don’t
know how to put this into words, but I love the vibe of the place.
Finally – after 24 hours on the
road I collapse onto the bed in my hotel room. I sleep for a few hours and then
wake, shower and turn on the TV. I watch an episode of 24 in Spanish. The male
overdub allocated to Kiefer Sutherland is deeper and more rugged than his
natural voice. How annoyed must he get when he sees himself on TV in other
countries - only to find he’s been given a voice that’s cooler than his own.
That would piss me off too Kiefer.
I grab a cab to the gig – which
is by the river in a kind of open sided permenant Marquee structure. It’s
really busy and Javier’s warming up the crowd perfectly. I play for 3 hours and
the atmosphere is electric and the sound system is kicking. The last time I
played here it was my birthday and after I played my last record I was shocked
to hear the whole club sing happy birthday to me as they lifted a birthday cake
into the dj booth. It was a very special night indeed and tonight is just as
rocking. As usual time runs out and it’s time to close the event – I end with
my remix of Paul Van Dyk’s “The Other Side”. After taking pictures with
clubbers and signing some albums I share a few drinks with Javier’s manager
Robert and a few random party people. Then it’s back to the hotel to crash.
In the morning I wake and drink
all the water in the minibar. I haven’t eaten since the pastries we had
yesterday morning after I arrived so I’m absolutely famished. Luckily we are
invited to Javier’s brother’s house here in Rosario for a BBQ before we head
back to Buenos Aries for tonight’s gig at Privilege. It’s hot today. It’s the
beginning of the Argentinean winter and yet I’m sweating like hell.
We jump in the car and head back
in the same direction as last night’s venue, following the wide Parana River on
our right hand side for several miles before turning in land on to cobbled
streets where kids are playing in the sunshine. It’s a nice leafy suburb called
La Floresta (I might have that name wrong as my memory is terrible).
Javier’s brother and wife greet
us warmly and we are invited into their lovely home for lunch. On the menu –
meat, red wine and the FA Cup semi final between Arsenal and Chelsea. Could
there be a better menu? The meat and wine are both delicious but the football
is horseshit. So horseshit in fact that we abandon the TV before the second
half begins. I hate seeing Arsenal loose – almost as much as I hate seeing
Chelsea win. Almost.
After a wonderful lunch we bid
our farewells and hit the road. We make two stops – one for petrol and ice
cream and another to buy fresh oranges from a road side seller who has set up a
wooden kiosk selling all kinds of nik naks and food stuffs at the side of the
highway.
In Buenos Aries I check into the
hotel and wait for an old friend of mine from the UK, who lives here in the
city, to come and pick me up. I go and hang out with him, his wife and son at
their house. We go for dinner and then hook up with a bunch of their friends
and all head to the club. On arrival the bouncer refuses to let us in. My mate
explains that I am djing but still he refuses. I can’t understand what they are
saying as they are talking in Spanish but his body language says everything.
Eventually the organisers come running out and give the bouncer a few curt
words before ushering us in and getting us drinks. Javier is on the decks -
rocking the big crowd. The venue is busy. It’s amazing and I can’t wait to
play. A big warehouse with one whole side made of glass overlooking a river.
Somewhere between getting out of the car and arriving behind the decks I have
lost my watch. It’s annoying as it was a birthday present from my girlfriend. I
read somewhere that you can tell a lot about a man by the watch he wears. Since
loosing that watch I have been sporting a $2 kids Spiderman masterpiece in
engineering. This classic timepiece was purchased for me when I was 7 years old
– and it’s still going strong but I’m not sure what wearing it says about me as
a man?
Anyway…
What can I say about the gig. It
turns out to be one of the hottest gigs of the last 18 months. This is going to
sound like a cliché and maybe it is, but there is a real connection with the
crowd. The hairs are standing up on the back of my neck now as I write this
just remembering the night. I’m due to do a 3 hour set but I end up playing for
just over 5. By the last hour, the sun is up and so, as the club, having one
wall made of glass, is flooded with light. I have eye contact with everyone on
the floor. This is intimate. This is sweaty. This is amazing. I don’t want it
to end. And now all I can think about is – when can I come back and play to
these people again? Can I do it next week? Can I do it every week? Can I do it
every day?
After my set I go outside and
hang out with some of the clubbers – give away some cds and sign a bunch of
stuff. Argentinean clubbers are amazing. So vibrant. So energetic and
enthusiastic.
Back at the hotel I’m so hyped up
about the gig I can’t sleep. My ears are ringing like a muther fucker. I smoke
a cigarette on the balcony, which overlooks the docks.
The perfect end to the perfect
weekend.
On the flight home I’m sat across
the aisle from an elderly man who struggles to work out how to use his
in-flight entertainment system. He’s a lovely old boy who is ever so polite and
nice to the stewardesses. I have massive respect for the elderly and I take
pity on this guy and offer to help him with his TV remote. Being the proud
Englishman that he is – he declines the offer with a smile vibrant smile. As he
turns to me I notice he is blind in one eye. The left eyeball is a milky white.
I take my headphones off and start up a conversation with him. His wife
recently died and so he has been travelling all over the world – in an attempt
to cram as much adventure and experience into his last days and also, I
suspect, to keep himself busy so he doesn’t fall into depression. He tells me some great stories. In
India they have recently launched a new telephone number for people who need to
call the emergency services (like 999 in the UK and 911 in the US). That number
is 1066. I later smile to myself as I wonder if people calling that number in
India are transferred to a call centre in Hastings, England.
That’s it for now my friends - if
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Until next time..…
x