Chaos Rocks : Peaches and Erol Alkan // Concorde2

Photos by Marek Richter

Gosh. This review is soo late.

Let’s take it back a week like some cheap hip-hop act:

Picture the scene. It’s the Concorde, 11:30, after masses of vodka – we are greeted with a queue not so dissimilar to the job centres up in Liverpool. Yes we are getting political now. One queue for people dismayed without tickets and another (bastard of a line) for listed/already-paid runts. Having been promised a cut rate at the door it was a shame to have been hit by the £10 taxation ahead – but oh well. Steal from the Rich and give to the poor these suckers can’t be cheap.

As the crowds huddled to the front of the C2s stage we could see a bewildered Peaches (Merill Nisker) getting a pep-talk from Brighton’s renowned RR’s mafiosa goon Steve Chaos. As she gets to grips with Mr Pioneer the night (drama) starts to unfold. Now we all know that we don’t go to see Peaches DJ, that’s what we’ve got Erol for; we go for the live show! After all this lady is the queen of distorted shouting; “I don’t give a fuck, I don’t give a shit!!! A DJ set is not enough to please the die hard audience. Luckily when she blasts out such classics as her own rendition of the Black Eyed Peas – My humps she raises a riot from the minions bellow. Come on how could “My dumps” go un-noticed and even be accepted? Only Peaches has the power. What made Merill’s show ever more eclectic was the fact that when Erol came to the decks she didn’t run away and cower like many-an-other musical types. Oh no, she stayed on that stage and owned it even more. What a fucking lady – one after my own heart? I think not.

Erol soon comes on and attacks the crowd with his usual twist of electronic dance-fest making them, as if hypnotised, follow his every direction. I’m a massive fan of Erol as a DJ but his production work I’ve sometimes found to be outside of my range. The “Bloc Party” remix for example never hit me as a classic rework. But his disc skills out do any pre-emption’s stuck in my mind. Gradually as his Casio-clad hands twisted the DJM600s knobs his set got deeper and more twisted. Dropping “Erotic Discourse” towards the end of the night resulted in an audience uproar. I was busy most the night making a fool out of myself thinking my photography skills were up to scratch after the stated masses of vodka but this track kicked me back and spat me out on to the ground. As I came too jumping around with the rest of the audience, my camera flapping as if it was some cheap shit from China, I was hooked. A stage invasion at this time was underway with people huddling to dance along with the queen of smut herself. Peaches continued her show playing the drums and being the overall undomesticated bitch that she is – working perfectly with the man Erol. The show must go on!!

At this point I think I stumbled off the stage in the most un-professional manner you could ever see a chap with a camera do. Holding my drunken head in both hands I retreated to the stage front to claim I had lost my bag (it was on my shoulder… case closed).

And the story continues. The Concorde started to empty and a dance floor was free for the last hardcore dancing maniacs. Hovering at the back a tad perplexed over the nights frivolities we met a group of people who where equal minded (or mind dead). As we stumbled out of the doors walking with a girl who had spent the whole night clutching to a cabbage (no joke) we pursued the hike along Madeira drive back to civilisation. Along route I mumbled profusely about how much I enjoyed hearing Paul Woolford’s – Erotic discourse until a taxi apprehended us. Confused and bewildered we exchanged rape with the cash point (Sainsbury’s car park?) and moved on to a party in what is now an unknown location. It’s a bit like the X-files this. Turning up to a house of more equal-headed (you know what I mean) people we sat down and mingled our arses off as the sun came up. To our surprise we where told the base of all this trouble had a pool but in a desperate effort to steer clear of any Michael Barrymore misfortunes we stayed seated and made a brief escape without even saying good bye. Sounds rude but you try and speak politely after a night like this and see if you make sense. Mumbled words and misguided vision!

The day took us onto a stop off at some Unwin’s somewhere and the night, well day continued. The eventualities finally leaving us standing (Saturday evening) in Above Audio feeling like a snake that’s been cut in half. When I was younger my father told me that when a snake is cut, hundreds of other little snakes wallow out from its still moving carcass – I am now the embodiment of one of those small snakes.

Chaos Rocks has built itself as one of the most established nights in Brighton at the current time – a status the boutique once ruled with pride. Coming a long way since the Enigma days it shines through with such class equalling with nights from the Bleeps or even Kliks guys. They have the passion to put on nights no one else around here has dared. So next time you are bored in town and you happen to walk past Rounder Records, stop, walk back and give them your wallet as a sign of thanks.

Enjoyed immensely and would recommend to all.

Concorde2
http://www.concorde2.co.uk/

Madeira Shelter Hall,
Madeira Drive
Brighton
BN2 1EN

Telephone: 01273 697888
Booking office: 01273 673311
Fax: 01273 696157

info@concorde2.co.uk

Words: Marek the Czech