S*P*A*M Magazine launch party // The Zap

Went out last night and managed to get drunk. Oops. I’d taken a stab at joining the new cult (if only for a day) of giving up booze. It’s easy when you’re broke. I contemplated how I would survive the launch party. I knew I had to go and “represent” – I was one of the contributors (pg 11) for the new Brighton magazine, masterminded by the geniuses from Zero Culture and Slackers Convention, Will and Jamie. Then a stoke of madness popped into my head: become a social deviant ! Porque no?

Hit 1: I stole a drink off my housemates, cunningly slipping the glass of red wine from a drunken Katie’s hand mid-flow. She was going on about how much she loved everyone. Great.

Hit 2: Friend’s housewarming party. Stole an entire bottle of red and sipped it from a flimsy plastic cup. No one minded. I shared it with Nadege, my housemate, who came along. the party was AC/DC til you die so I said adios. Always leave before it gets messy. White trash rock nights are not it for me. Also managed to scam £20. Sweet.

Hit 3: Sneak some hefty discount for entry fee into the Zap. No comp unfortunately. Oh well. The Zap is such a stupid name for anything much less a club. That’s like the noise guns make in old outer space movies. Dumb. Union was pretentious, but hey, pretentious is good. Despite having huge problems with the cheesy name, it’s still a nice venue. It grows on me every time I go there. For the night, there was a dance platform in the middle of the room. A mixed crowd, more on the young side, and at two strikes before midnight, the dance floor was already full of people shaking their thing. Conspiracy was on the decks, and he was mixing the caviar of the breakz world, producing a dancy, deep soundtrack for the urban groovers out there. And yes, they were happy.

Hit 4: Alex and Kesh turned up and Alex bought me a glass of wine for my birthday. So well-timed. Jamie aka “Mr Black” in his cool red cap took over from the clean-shaven Conspiracy and played an eclectic mix of breakz, electro and some other gutsy left-field tunes that he miraculously made work. The crowd was going on double-time. The dance floor literally EXPLODED when Jamie dropped this one track. His set has matured and evolved so much in the past 6 months, that I can only think it might have something to do with one thing: love. His valentine, the vivacious Marren, was dancing up a storm near the dj booth, supporting her man.

Hit 5: One of the Zap staff accidentally nabbed my glass while I was dancing, but Nadege, in typically French fashion, kicked up such a fuss that he brought over a fresh glass of wine, gratis. Thank you jesus. The night was proving to be a lot of fun and I think I danced off most of the giant-sized portions I consumed while in the States. Towards the end of Jamie’s set, half the club infiltrated the stage area around the dj booth, in heavy anticipation of the Prodigy legend, Leeroy “the Dancer” Thornhill. I wasn’t sure if he was asked to dj because he’d been in the legendary group, or because he was a fine dj in his own right. All to be revealed.

Hit 6: Drink, again courtesy of Alex. He’s such a sweetheart. Leeroy took over and the Prodigy tunes came out. I wasn’t that impressed with his set, but the crowd, who were desperate to get the attention of The Man like a bunch of lame-o groupies, were loving every minute of it. The set, which was supposed to be “an eclectic mix of old Prodigy classics and remixes, Miami bass, electro and breakz”, failed to do it for me. It saddened me, I guess. The Prodigy, especially their early stuff, has a firm place in my heart: memories of consuming Irvine Welsh books with their music as the backdrop was a seminal point for me in my late teens. Maybe it was just a matter of peaking too early on the dance front or maybe the support djs were just a LITTLE TOO GOOD for their own good?

Hit 7: Nadege – get this – manages to snatch £10 off the bar guy. He GAVE it to her. “How did you do that?” Nadege smiled impishly and shrugged. Amazing and halleluah. Drinks for everyone. We decided to stay longer, and I snapped a few more pics with a bunch of idiots, who, I’m convinced, must have drank the champagne bar upstairs dry. Or something. A happy drunk merry group of clubbers.

Hit 8: Used the rest of the £20 I scammed to get a taxi home. Fuck walking. Walking is for losers. I was sorry to have missed JFB’s set in the last hour, but enough was enough. Overall, it was a good night and with memories of spam tins flashed in my retina as I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

Representing on the night was: Steph, Woody, Claire, Jez, Kesh, Alex, Matt & the Checkout dj crew.

Leeroy “the Dancer” Thornhill: the man who destroyed the faith of millions. Read the fan’s emails. They’re hilarious! http://www.nekozine.co.uk/prodigy/info/leeroyleave.html

Oh yeah, JFB handed me a flier before I left – a new night he’s doing with Beardyman. BATTLEJAM @ Ali Cats, 8-12pm £2 entry Sat, 25th February 2006

The idea is its live remixing. Bring your records and it’s a battle to the death between DJ, beatboxer and live musician as they fuck, twist, crunch and beat that shit up. Go down. It’s a chance to see two of Brighton’s finest getting messy with music.

The Zap
http://www.union.uk.com

189-192 Kings Road Arches
Brighton
East Sussex
BN1 1NB

carl@union.uk.com

Words: Amy the Film Maker