Brighton Fusion » Brighton Rave

Positive Sounds 17th birthday @ Concorde 2

MarekTheCzech — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 13:09:34 +0000

Image taken from the Positive Sounds Flickr

Fuck me! Positive Sounds are 17 years old! If you’re a Brightonian, or from around Brighton, you will at some point have come across the Positive Sound System. Be it in a club, a field, the sea front, or any other place they have been able to infiltrate. To still be going strong 17 years after conception is a true feat, especially in the fluctuating world of electronic music. What keeps Positive Sounds afloat is the fact that they aren’t searching for commercial success – following often short-lived hypes and trends.

So on their 17th Birthday come join in the celebration down at the Concorde. It sure is set to be a fantastic party with the likes of Mr. C, Dave Mothersole. Simon Atkinson, Magnus Asberg and more.

Concorde 2
Start Time: 23:00
End Time: 06:00

12/09/09

Mr C

Mr C was originally most famous as the front man of The Shamen; the techno-rave outfit that scored huge hits and notoriety in the 90s with tracks like Ebeneezer Goode. But Mr C’s progress, before and after he gained global fame, has been characterised by a devotion to electronic music and a solid DJ career that sees him playing around the world plus running the underground Superfreq night both in Ibiza and in The End’s lounge on Sunday nights.

GRIT LIT: Tim Lay – an extract from novel “Rats With Wings”

Amythefilmmaker — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 07:11:51 +0000

Tim Lay reading at Grit Lit

At recent Brighton Festival fringe literary event Grit Lit, Tim Lay read an extract from his second novel Rats with Wings, which tells the tale of a London copper – Lewis – who is dragged down to Brighton by her sinister patrol partner Letch for an unknown and dodgy pretext.

They’ve just left a swingers’ party outside of Brighton and return to find an outdoor rave on the seafront and are about to take some drugs.

‘You doing one?’ he asked. She stuck her tongue out so he could see the yellow tablet sitting on it.
‘In for a penny in for a pound,’ he said with a nervous smile and popped his.

The rave was easy enough to find. They’d cut down to the beach and driven up and down the seafront until the crowds and the sound of music had led them to it. Rob breathed a sigh of relief as Letch parked up the car. He’d survived the journey, hair-raised but unscathed, and was thankful that home was only a walk away from here. His new acquaintances didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave the car – the interior light was on and new lines were being carved – but Rob needed some fresh air. He got out of the car and walked his way up to the rave.

A couple of hundred people were spilling out of a concrete recess, cut into the side of the hill, an alcove that must have dated back to the Victorian times. Colonnade pillars and high ceilings gave it an air of majesty, despite its popularity as a shooting gallery. The speakers were set into a smaller alcove at one end. It was a small system but came out swinging, the punchy bass boomeranging around the alcove and spinning its way outside.

A single strobe threw shadows from the tightly packed dance floor on to the white ceiling above. People spilled out of the alcove and crowded the area outside, talking, drinking, smoking, laughing and dancing. Some sat, or lay on the steep grass bank.

Rob stood for a while, hands in pockets, bobbing his head, self consciously, his eyes on a girl wearing a silver bikini top and fairy wings, a glow stick in each hand. He felt a bit disjointed, like everyone else was in on something that he wasn’t. He couldn’t feel anything from the pill Lewis had given him, but he wondered if he was just too drunk to notice its effects.

In the car, the drugs were kicking in and Letch’s body had begun to hum, a little like a plane warming on the runway. He felt good. Alert but relaxed, and satisfied too – just the way one is when they’ve done a good job. And the swingers’ party had been just that.

‘So what’s the score then?’ he asked, watching Lewis chop. He took a quick glance out of the window to make sure that Rob wasn’t near the car.

‘Four, two,’ said Lewis.

‘Sarcastic bitch,’ he said, flicking the top of her shoulder.

‘What fucking score?’ said Lewis. She leant forward, taking the whole line up one nostril because the other one had become too blocked.

‘What’s his name.’

‘Rob?’ Lewis shrugged and handed him the note. ‘Nothing.’ She sniffed. ‘He just seemed like a laugh.’

‘Some laugh,’ Letch muttered. ‘Any of that vodka left?’

‘No. Got this though.’ She pulled a bottle of Jack from under her chair. ‘Swingers’ compliments,’ she grinned.

‘Ooh. You’re a sly one!’ Letch broke the seal and drank heavily before wedging the bottle in the pocket of his door. Stooping low he snorted both of the remaining lines. He pinched his nose and rode out the sting that was so far up his nostril his eye hurt.

‘Hey,’ she said. ‘That one’s for him.’

‘I need it more than he does,’ grunted Letch. Through watery eyes he saw the expression on her face. ‘Fuck sake. Make him another. There’s enough of it. Do the same again for me while you’re at it.’

‘It’s not a race,’ she tutted, reaching for the bag.

‘So did you fuck him?’ Letch asked, liking the way the word sounded to him. Very definitive, he thought. Starts soft and ends hard. F-U-C-K.

‘Not my type. We were having a laugh.’

‘Shall we ditch him and go somewhere else?’ asked Letch, stroking the steering wheel.

‘Like where?’

‘I’m sure there’s some little drinking den that’s open all hours,’ he purred. He was massaging the back of his neck, massaging away the stress of the day. He moved his head rhythmically from side to side, and the more he did it the more he found himself wanting to do it.

‘It’s not fucking Hackney,’ shot Lewis.

He didn’t reply. Just carried on moving his head from side to side, letting his fingers probe the muscles of the lower neck, feeling the skin ripple beneath his touch…

‘Why, who did you fuck?’ she asked, looking over. Letch was slouched in his seat, head lolling against the window, a knee crooked and resting on the upholstery. He had his eyes closed and she knew he was fucked because, unusually for Letch, he was smiling.

‘No one special,’ he replied.

‘I wasn’t impressed with that Letch,’ she said, her tone more serious. ‘That was out of order not telling me what sort of place that was.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Letch. He opened his eyes, had the words in his mouth that he wanted to say, but his vision was flickering and the words were suddenly lost as the humming inside his body began to intensify.

‘I know,’ was all he could manage. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes again, unable to carry on talking, trying to hold back the sweats.

‘Oh well,’ said Lewis, gazing out of the window. ‘I suppose it’s another tick in a box. Fucking swingers’ party,’ she laughed softly.

‘Got to get out,’ said Letch urgently, groping for the door handle.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out,’ he hissed, and literally tumbled out of his door.

He shouldn’t have double dropped those pills, she thought. Could’ve been anything in them. Served him right really. She didn’t even know if he’d done an E before. Letch was more booze and charlie. She thought about going outside and seeing if he was ok, but Letch wasn’t the really sort of person you did that with.

She was glad she’d slowed down when she’d got to the swingers’ party. She felt all right now, could go on through the night. No worries. She leant over and pulled the driver’s door closed, then snorted one of the new sets of lines. There was a knock on the window and the back door opened.

‘Thought Letch had scared you off,’ she laughed.

‘Nah,’ said Rob, although his smile was just a little too thin.

Letch was flying now, but shit had it been a rough take off…

One minute, he’d been fine, sitting in the car, snorting coke and shooting the breeze with Lewis and the next he’d been clawing to hold it together as that hum in his head had just got louder and louder until he’d thought he was about to do a Leah Betts.

He’d thrown up and sat on a kerb for a good long while, head in hands, until the hum had gone quiet. Only when he’d been absolutely sure his head wasn’t going to cave in, had he started walking. He hadn’t a clue where he was heading, just put his head down and walked until the feeling wasn’t so bad anymore, and his jaw had stopped grinding like an industrial compressor.

He’d stopped by the pier, smoked a cigarette, done a self-assessment and passed himself fit, then turned around and walked back the way he’d come feeling like Forest fucking Gump.

He was aware that the world around him seemed different now, as if the edges had been sanded down and softened. He felt different too. Half an hour ago he’d been praying to a God he didn’t believe in, pleading to him to make it to the other side, but now he felt fantastic, like a superhero incarnate, ready for anything. His mind was clear and alert and his body felt fully charged. His stride was purposeful and he had the sudden notion that walking had never seemed so enjoyable before.

The sea front road was lively considering the hour, people walking this way and that along the seafront path, gangs of boy racers huddled around car boots stuffed with stereo speakers, and the occasional roar of engines as souped up saloon cars raced off down the long straight road. Letch reached a shuttered café beside a deserted playground. A solitary figure sat on one of the wooden tables, his white puffer jacket shining him up like a beacon in the darkness. He had some cans on the table beside him.

‘Hey mate, you don’t want to sell me one of those do you?’ Letch called over.
The figure didn’t reply straight away. He looked at the can in his hand and to the cans beside him.

‘Yeah all right,’ he said. ‘Cost you five.’

‘Five quid for a can?’ Letch laughed contemptuously.

‘It’s the only bar round here geez. Take it or leave it.’

‘I’d better take it then son,’ said Letch. ‘You got change for a twenty?’

‘I’ve got change.’

Letch veritably skipped over to where the cockney was sitting.

‘Let’s see your money first.’

Letch smiled. ‘Here, ‘he said, pulling out the bundle of notes he’d taken from Swinger’s party.’ ‘Satisfied now?’

The cockney nodded and gave the can over. ‘You like acid mate? Got some Superman blotters if you fancy.’

‘Superman eh?’ asked Letch, doing a little jig on the spot. It was too good to be true. ‘Why the fuck not! The night’s still young wouldn’t you say?’

‘I suppose so,’ the other shrugged, unimpressed with Letch’s enthusiasm. ‘How many?’

‘How many you got?’

‘Ten.’

‘I’ll take the ten then please my good man.’ Letch quipped. He cracked the can open while the cockney removed his shoe. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said without looking up. ‘They’re wrapped in cling film.’

‘Good. I’d hate to get Athlete’s mouth.’ Letch began to laugh at his joke.

The cockney didn’t laugh. He held the plastic wrap out to him. ‘Go on then mate,’ he said. ‘Thirty quid and five for the beer.’

Letch pulled his wallet out. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said. ‘Why don’t I take those ten, this can, and another for luck…’ He nodded to the lagers on the table. ‘… And we’ll call it quits shall we?’

The cockney cracked a smile. It was part bemusement but part something more sinister. ‘You’re having a fucking laugh pal.’ His hand dropped down and behind, reaching for something in his waistband.

‘You’re right,’ said Letch. ‘I’m having a real fucking laugh.’ He snapped his wallet open and flashed his Met ID. ‘Now give me another can and fuck off.’

Letch could see the white of the puffer jacket bobbing away in the dark of the distance as he tore the plastic wrapping away and ripped off a cardboard square. ‘OK superman,’ he said out loud. ‘Let’s see if we can make this party fly shall we?…

The tab stung his tongue and he drained half the can to drown the battery taste away.

Tim’s first novel, The Sewerside Chronicles,was the winner of the 2007 Undiscovered Authors prize. His short stories appear in QueenSpark’s Alt Future and the upcoming ‘Urban’ anthology published by Phoenix Press

The Birth of Brighton Rave: A Feature on Positive Sound System

Amythefilmmaker — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 18:35:26 +0000

Lewes rave, 1994, from Positive Sound System flickr site

There was a time in Brighton when nightclubs were at permanent capacity, thanks in part to the big beat popularity and the city’s reputation as a party town, but underpinning the thriving night scene was the sweaty, pulsating free party scene that took over fields, beaches, mansions, vacant buildings, warehouses, coastal strips and sea archways. It didn’t take long for the police to start cracking down on all these spontaneous gatherings.

These days, free parties in the city are few and far between. Sure there’s the yearly free party down at Black Rock, which takes place after Pride, in which different sound systems pitch up for an all night party for local people and out-of-towners – rumour has it that the authorities turn a a blind eye to this yearly party for fear of a homophobic slur. Then there’s the drum n bass house parties, where nearly everyone is 17-years-old and mostly male, waiting for their turn to MC on the mic. A few years back there was a blip of steaming Spanish squat parties. There are still parties at Ditchling Beacon. We are seeing the embers of a fire, but perhaps not all is gone yet.

Over the past two decades, people – initially inspired by the acid rave sounds – cobbled together sound systems with their mates and succeeded in carrying on the tradition, innovating newer ways to elude the authorities. Positive Sound System was the name synonymous with the biggest and best sounds and system combined, putting on free parties all over East Sussex, and later moving the free party vibes back into nightclubs such as the Positive Nights at Audio. A few years ago, in September 2007, Positive celebrated 15 years of parties, the whole crew need a whole weekend just to celebrate, despite the fact that the head honchos were now pushing middle-aged.

So as not to forget the self-styled DIY approach to creating your own fun, which might be an alternative during the dark penniless days ahead, we spoke with Darren, founder of Positive Sound System. Darren recalls the birth of the Brighton rave scene back in the 1980s and talks about the influence of reggae, the technical aspects of sound systems, the never-ending battles with the police, and the fight for the right to party. Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme (the more things change, the more they stay the same).

Black Rock party, 2003

1992: why you & why then?

Darren: I started going to ‘proper’ parties in about 1985, these were either ‘Blues’ parties (organised reggae parties where you paid £1 on the door, these were every Saturday night and occasional Thursdays) or squat parties that were a bit of a free for all.

After a year of so of going to the parties and getting to know those involved, I graduated to helping carry speakers and then to DJing and finally looking after a mate’s sound system and organising a couple of reggae squat parties. Then the acid house scene burst into life and suddenly the police were cracking down hard on all the parties.

By the summer of 1988, police pressure had intensified and culminated in me getting busted setting up a reggae party at a squat venue that had hosted an Acid rave the week previous. The police were very aggressive and threatening and confiscated all our booze and kept us locked up for 12 hours. A week later one of the guys helping me died in a motorbike accident, and I decided then that I would get out of the party scene for good.

I then started to go to Acid House parties as I knew some of the organisers and DJs and kinda liked what I saw and heard. By 1990 the police had pretty much cracked down on all the Brighton parties and the summer had been virtually party free and very boring. Then me and my friends had a great idea: we’d do a party at their house to impress some girls from Croydon we’d met. I organised all the technical side of things – sound system, DJs, lights, decor – and come the night of the party, the whole road was blocked off with cars and people, the police could do nothing about it and we carried on ’til Sunday evening (well the others did, I was back home with one of the Croydon girls by this time). Come Monday, the Evening Argus did a big piece about the party with the headline “Street in Fear of All-Night Thrash”. Three days later, they were all evicted!

Flyer for club night at the Church, October 1991

Not long after this, Jim Bob (aka the Pope of Brighton) approached me to help him set up a club night as he’d been offered every Friday at the Asylum (now New Hero, previously the Loft, Church etc). He wanted me to sort out sound, DJs, lights, etc and we’d promote it together. I agreed but only if my party buddies, Sean and Ashley (who he didn’t much care for) could be involved with me and thus began my first club promotion crew, KG Promotions (I named it that after seeing an advert for KG cars and liking the sound of it).

The first club night saw queues around the block and it wasn’t long before we were getting local DJ’s like Dave Clarke to play (for £30!). All the profit was put into a joint account and the plan was to share this out at a later date. We would hire a sound system for the downstairs room and then take this off to an after-party once the club had shut at 2am – this would involve a few days preparation: breaking into a venue/empty flat, changing locks, tidying up and getting the place ready for a party.

This carried on for a few months, and we were getting more organised and building a reputation for wild, anything goes parties. But trouble was brewing, however, and the KG crew eventually had to go their separate ways from Jim’s crew. We took over the Saturday night and they had the Friday night.

DJ Neil Janabi at the Church, early 1990s

Party at Ditchling Beacon, 1994

With our share of the money, we started to build our own sound system instead of hiring in. The only sound system at that time in Brighton was a rasta crew, King Tafari Love Music, and with their influence and contacts, we started to build a reggae-style Acid House sound system. Within a few months, this had grown to about 10k and we were doing clubs and parties all over Brighton.

Then in late summer we were approached by a local gangster (Ashley was going out with his sister) and asked if we could organise a rave for him – he had the warehouse and wanted us to supply the rest. It ended up with the warehouse being surrounded by police, who then confiscated all the equipment – which we had hired from a London firm- which led to the hire firm grassing us up. We eventually ended up in court but got off with a conditional discharge after the hire firm didn’t show up in court, but this was the beginning of the end for the KG Crew and our Purple Polka Dot sound system.

For New Years Eve 1991, we had hired a massive warehouse in Hove and planned a massive semi-legal rave. Everything was going okay until about 8pm on the night when the police arrived. They were desperate to stop the party but it was down to the fire officers. After showing them round, they declared the party could go ahead. This made the police even madder, and they then got the warehouse manager down to the police station and threatened him with all kinds of stuff if the party went ahead.

By 10.30pm the police had won, and we had 1,000 plus disappointed ravers to deal with. Not the best NYE I’ve ever had – in fact the worst one ever! The next day, both Sean and Ashley decided that they didn’t want to be involved anymore and were bailing out, leaving me to deal with the fallout.

I spent the next three months trying to sort out the mess, and once everyone who had brought a ticket was sorted (some had money back and the rest I put a free club event on for them), I had had enough of organising parties and the police hassling me. I put the remainder of the sound system into storage and washed my hands of the whole party scene and tried to live a ‘normal’ life.

By autumn 1992, I was going through a painful split with my then girlfriend and by chance got asked if I wanted to get the sound system out of storage and help organise a party for a friend. I decided to give it a go – mainly to keep my mind occupied – and within a couple of months the sound system was back on the road with a new coat of paint, a new name and a new mission.

All day reggae flyer, early 1990s

You draw your sound system’s lineage from the Jamaican soundsystem – why & how?

The whole culture and style of reggae sound systems impressed me. They had selectors who chose the records, DJ’s who played them, the MC’s who gee’d the crowd, a sound engineer who worked the system, the box boys who carried speakers and then there was the bar staff, door crew and security. Any trouble was dealt with properly, and they knew how to handle the police. You couldn’t even sit on the floor at the Blues parties – if you did, you were rudely told to “get off the floor!” – quite a far cry from the chaotic squat parties I’d been going to.

We styled ourselves system on the reggae sound systems, who use ’scoop’ bass bins to create eyeball-quivering bass. I was influenced by the Brighton reggae sound system King Tafari, who had one of the best sounding systems in the UK at that time. They achieved this by splitting the sound into four frequencies as opposed to the normal three frequencies (Bass/Mid/Treble). I wanted to split the frequencies up to 6 times (Sub Bass/Bass/Mid Bass/Mid/Upper Mid/Treble) to get a true high fidelity sound. We achieved this by having a purpose built 6-way crossover (the bit of kit that splits the frequencies coming from the music).

Reggae also influenced Acid House parties in numerous ways: starting with remixes of current tunes (a staple at reggae parties was at least three remixes of the latest tune, often with a guest MC boasting about how good that particular sound system was), the introduction of MC’s (most of whom also MC’d at reggae parties), the oversized sound systems, and of course the eventual birth of Jungle and D nB all owe their existence to reggae.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST

Want to check out more photos from the parties, people and places that were part of the Postive Sound System time? Check out their flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/positivesoundsystem/

BONUS : OLD SCHOOL MIXES FOR DOWNLOAD

Here’s a couple of old school rave mixes from two Brighton DJs who continue carrying on the free party tradition and can be seen in clubs and free parties alike: DJ Aize (Cut Loose) and Pook (Brap FM/Archangel).

Ain’t Slept In Days mix – DJ Aize

Download audio file (beatroutesessions_oldskoolsession89-92.mp3)
POok’s February Old Skool Session (BeatRouteSessions on Brap.FM Wednesdays 8-10 pm with POok)