Forgive my lateness in posting anything. Last week was manic, to say the least. It might have been a week ago (a lifetime in blogging terms), but I had to say a few words about DMZ.
For me, it is the best club night in the capital at the moment and this is an opinion I've had since setting foot in DMZ at Mass around two years ago - it reminds me of being at Metalheadz at Bluenote in 1995, with totally new music being born before your ears and everyone in the club knows it and appreciates it.
The one key difference is DMZ has this roots reggae 'one love', 'everyone welcome' vibe and that's down to the personalities of Mala, Loefah, Coki and Seargant Pokes. It gives it this spiritual dimension, and that's been confirmed by a couple of hippy-ish mates from Birmingham who have made the effort to come to the night, despite not being dubstep fans.
Unsurprisingly the third birthday was roadblock: I met Markle and half of dubstep forum down the Effra pub (best pub in Brixton before the best night in London), including one cheeky chappie who reckoned his fave buzz is booze plus valium so you feel wobbly on the inside and get maximum effect when those monstrous wobbly basslines hit. I like his logic.
Nevertheless, I don't understand queuing up for the club at like 915pm. We queued for 80minutes and were still an hour off getting in, before I spotted Loefah and did the guest list thing (I didn't do it straight off coz it was so bloody early, there was no clip board person). So I was in there and having it by 10.30pm - very bizarre - and enjoying the extra sound as Pinch and Cyrus and then Distance and Goth Trad (scary), went back to back.
Removing the screen from the DJ booth really opened it up and emphasized the all-inclusive vibe. It's the details, I tell ya.
I don't usually get to a rave til midnight/1am so it was weird, but DMZ is social as hell and I met dubsteppers from America, Finland and Amsterdam. I guess that's a key difference between Web 2.0 raving and mid-1990s raving when peeps largely kept themselves to themselves - being social wasn't cool, everyone was skunked out or pilled up and often in their own world, and we didn't have forums to virtually chat and befriend likeminded peeps, and then actually meet up.
Mala's records got left in Norway apparently - airline fuck up... hopefully he's got them back - and he was naturally devastated as he'd been saving some dubs for the occasion. Highlights are hazy - Joe Nice playing I Want To Sex You Up by Color Me Badd (sic), and plenty of 'woah, woah, woah', 'yeah, yeah, yeahs' from Pokes.
As Markle observed if you were to have dropped a bomb on Mass that night, dubstep would be no more, coz just about the entire scene was there.
I'll be glad when DMZ returns to normal and I can get my skank on in peace, with my partner in crime, Ravos, who was sorely missed and perhaps we'll be able to enjoy that valium/booze buzz :-0)
PS: I logged onto dubstepforum on the Sunday evening after the night before and was staggered to find a 20 page thread on the night. That's a 20 page thread less than 24 hours after the event. Without sounding like a corny, gushing wanker - I'm a cynical journalist with a 16 year raving career after all - there's ALOT of love in, and for, DMZ. Big up Mala, Loefah, Coki, Pokes and all the crew, including the lovely, welcoming, smiley ladies who man - surely that should be woman? but that's the sexist english language for you - the cash til and who tell me off for not mentioning Pokes in my Metro previews.
