Mixmag Christmas Party
Where: Matter, London
When: 4th December 2009
Isn’t the O2 Arena a bit odd? Middle aged couples on their highlight-of-the-week, get-out-of-the-house of a Saturday night dinner at Zizzi (or somewhere equally un-enthralling). Families parading their festive trotters around the German themed Christmas Fair, munching up the pfeffernüsse and quaffing off the gluhwein. Yesteryear rockers sweating it out in their Whitesnake esque fringed shirts and dodgy barnets to Bon Jovi.
And clubbers heading for a multi-roomed super club with ceilings high enough to house a herd of raving giraffes, a sound and visual system to rival the best in the world, all designed and operated by the Fabric people.
The Matterites trek from far and wide to get to this musical hallowed ground. By far and wide though I mean mostly Essex. Not that I’m casting aspirations about Essex. I wouldn’t dare, I was a big fan of Birds of a Feather.
The O2 experience gets off to an interesting start. First an emotional rollercoaster of a Jubilee journey - is it disrupted/ isn’t it? We will have to get 85 buses, a dinghy and a tuk-tuk to get there, won’t we? We walk through the swarm of families, restaurateurs, cinema kids in our ravers’ delight sunglasses and wet-look leggings, armed with glow sticks a-go-go. Ok, journalistic license. You wouldn’t catch me with molten rubber smothered over my legs, but such attire was all too indicative of the matter attendees. Cue, your judgement on the crowd.
After being ordered dictatorially between various queues and surviving an alarmingly thorough (aka overly intrusive) security search, we were frog-marched in to the sounds of Caspa. Shudderings from the security scenario instantly subsided as the bass heavy dubstep sounds of tunes like Caspa’s own remix of TC’s Where’s my money? warmed up the party goers. Hosted by the almost spiritual Rod Azlan who elevated the crowd but never overpowered the music.
With the first drops of sweat gathering in those wet-look leggings A-trak took to the stage, throwing down his innovatively blended electro-house. It was a powerful energetic set, both the Canadian supremo and the crowd loved every minute. It wasn’t hard to see how the Montreal born NYC based DJ was the first to win five world champs. His mix of thumping basslines and electric synths on tunes like Ducksauce-You’re nasty and Anyway, Boys Noize-Oh! and Yeah Yeah Yeahs!- Heads will roll got those hands in the air. This would have rocked any festival arena, quite an act to follow.
And follow it well Annie Mac did not. In her defence I’ve seen her before and she was alright, she got the crowd going, played the strongest tunes from her Radio 1 show, didn’t let anyone down. Tonight though it was a different matter (ahem pundown.) Telling the crowd to put their hands in the air is never a good move. It’s the sort of thing Disco Dave The Disc struggles to get away with at a year 8 disco. These are not the kind of desperate tactics an international DJ should be using to insight the crowd. Amidst a host of tunes that are actually new but sound like they were made in the early 90s, dull cheese fest, she did play the absolute raveathon of a tune Mowgli’s London to Paris. But then so did almost every other DJ of the night. That and a variety of re-edits including Sidney Samson-Riverside. Good tunes they may be but surely once is enough.
Needless to say I lost interest in Annie and ventured to a very rainy, very outdoor smoking area. Er Matter hierarchy, we live in England, it rains. A lot. Spend all your money on the speakers and couldn’t stretch to some tarpaulin eh?
Enter said downpour ridden smoking area with a highly patterned umbrella though and things get interesting. “Umbrella I’m coming under, come on lads. Umbrella.” Have I missed this development in slang? Is umbrella an unruly action? A new verb? It transpired not, but hailing from a certain aforementioned country and being 4 pills deep does not, it seems, eloquent conversation make.
“I’ve got a nice car and a house and a nice stereo and a nice car too. But I don’t have an umbrella and that’s what’s missing in my life isn’t it. I’m nothing without an umbrella. You’ve got an umbrella, you hold the keys out here don’t you.” I concurred that I did indeed hold the keys and invited this slightly swaying, scrawny geezer with a blond crew cut, to find the magic eye puzzles hidden within the patterns of the said umbrella. Never have I seen such mystified concentration.
Meanwhile in room two Beni G, formerly of Mixologists fame and now of Jack Beats sensation, was giving those turntables a decent, if not eclectic, seeing to. With a play list that suggested he wouldn’t play anything he hadn’t had a hand in he smashed down fidgety basslines and big beats- the JB signature sound ran wild. Tunes like Jack Beats remixes of Project Bassline - Drop the pressure, La Roux – I'm not your toy were followed by an assault of filthy dubstep. Emalkay's When I look at you evoked such a head dipping mini moshpit that for a blissful spilt second i thought i was at DMZ. Then i realised those around me were 18 at a push, it seems the mosh has been handed down to the next generation.
Back in room one a legend born Quentin Leo Cook was preparing to grace the stage, or more accurately, the booth opposite the stage which had been thrown open to revellers. Kicking off with Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip intro re-edit of Thou shalt always kill, asserting that this Fatboy Slim character is just a band. He then however laid down a technically supreme set with the energy of a 21 year old, enticing, exciting the crowd without looking like he was even trying.
Candi Staton's You got the love acapella went down like fish and chips in the north of England as young Quentin piqued the atmosphere into euphoria. In the one WTF moment of his set he then bombed out and shattered the vibe with a pounding techno beat over the top. All in all though, pretty damn good effort.
The night rounded up with a Ménage à trois of Radio 1 Djs: Jaymo and Andy George and then Kissy Sellout. The former brought a mixed bag of electro, fidget and techno, all spliced together in a professional set. Unlike some they were not here to trade on their commercial radio nom de plume.
Kissy rocked out with the mash of warping basslines, rave pianos, indie crossed-over with the good stuff, for which he is so well known. Tunes like Trevor Loveys' Organ grinder and Majorlazer-Pon de floor, mixed up with the Kissy drop that bassline sample stirred up the crowd, from his fellow Essex followers to those with a more discerning musical mind.
And that was that. The end of a mixed night. Fatboy Slim, not just a band, amazing crowd- reading technician. The highlights were sweet: Caspa, A-Trak, Kissy, Jaymo, Andy George. The midlights were middling: Jack Beats. The lowlights were dire: Annie Mac, the crowd, the shineyness and the bouncers. Matter being Matter it will, more often than not, have these diverse problems. Regardless of the line-up the super brand will attract a certain crowd, employ a certain security style and omit in a certain sterility.
To help you to forget the negatives and think how jolly decent those nice people at Matter are they throw on a free tea and coffee fest at the beginning of the long walk home. Shouts of “Free tea curtsy of Matta” disrupts a peaceful River Thames, as the day beckons.
Words: Kerry-Ann Virgo
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