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The Blackett, New Years' Eve
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As predicted in last months ramblings, the much hyped New Year’s Eve was best spent in a low-key fashion, and came with not a whimper, but a gentle shower of glittery miss-shapes that probably brought much joy to the cleaners of the Blackett Arms.
Yep, 'Conspiracy’ was where I hung my hat for the night, as the fear of the Smog prevented me from whooping it up at ‘Retro’ @ the Tall Trees, and a bit of a do it was, which obviously requires much in-joking and cheese-some shouts to all concerned, in the time honoured fashion of club reviewers everywhere.
Big thanks to all the local lads (and lasses, erm lass) on the decks, especially Andy Static, who played all the tunes I would have heard at Retro, had I been arsed to go. Much hard trance action came courtesy of Che, Fizz and wor Kerry James, and much monging came care of a certain someone who thought they had hollow legs drinking-wise (but didn’t), but certainly had wobbly legs, a sore head and a damaged reputation by New Years Day.
You know who you are: peach schnapps is not to be taken lightly young man. Special thanks indeed to promoter Neil who dug deep and gave the people what they wanted, apart from the buffet which didn’t look like it got much action. Fortunately the dance-floor
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The Blackett, New Years' Eve
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did.
The party continued chez-moi, in the cosmopolitan borough of Fenham, and as my Grandma always says, what you do on New Years Day you’ll do for the rest of year. Bearing this in mind, I for one, am really looking forward to a 2003 filled with twitching, sleeplessness and a strange fear of the outside world, plus a craving for a certain something nice and tasty that usually results in me slumped in a corner of Lau’s Buffet King picking at a pile of prawn crackers. No change there then.
However, what I am committed to doing this year is continuing to waste my meagre income on high fashion, high cost, must-have items that I dispense with two months later. As the desire for military wear presses on, the more trend-obsessed dancefloors of the ‘Toon have the look of a very rhythmical T.A. meeting, and I have made best friends with the nice man who runs the army surplus shop opposite the fire station. Meeeeeaa, baaaah, and other sheep like noises indeed.
Very much marching in rhythm in the chilly month of Jan was the dance floor of ‘Promise’ @ Foundation, in particular the back room, where the much loved Trophy Twins made a welcome return on 31st. Hard yet funky and all the tunes that these particular ears needed to hear, including the Thomas Bangaltar track (no points for spelling to be found here), which definitely has that love it /hate it ‘Marmite factor’ (much cause for dancing to be found here), and the perv-esque DJ Sneak ‘Fix My Sink’, fnar fnar, plus a final tune that I really do know, but can’t actually recall. Rats. Any help much-appreciated good people of Newcastle. Obviously only those who were there need to apply, or those with psychic ability.
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Ooops. Dropped the camera
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While the theme of ‘Promise’ is in the air, the much-lamented message board is back on-line, for those who have the urge to discuss whether ‘Curly Wurlys’ are getting smaller, and whether the cyber look is as tired as a Tuesday afternoon when everything’s worn off (yes, and yes). Seek and ye shall find, but seek carefully club goers, or you may end up at the wrong message board entirely. Embarrassing, but not nearly as bad as ending up at the wrong website then using it as a picture in an accompanying article, ahem.
As well as a re-surge in message board action being one of my predictions of 2003, my clubbing crystal ball, or old goldfish bowl as those in the know call it, sees an increase in weekender events and clubbers saving up for a big nights out, as opposed to week -in week-out attendance. The awesome ‘Tidy Weekender’ kicks off again in April, and with a very quick sell out, I for one will have to wait until next time round in Oct to enjoy the promised three days of messiness.
Added to this, superclub supremes, the food preparation area of the Lord himself, and possibly the best thing to come out of Brum a.k.a Godskitchen, seemed to have declared themselves honorary Geordies. Another event kicks off at the Telewest on the 8th of March, with more events planned later in the year. And, of course, the obligatory course of cash, energy and serotonin -depleting summer festivals, and then there’s Ibiza on the horizon. I feel twitchy already.
If all this prattle of what’s to come hasn’t left you weak and drained already, we’d like to offer you the chance to get your mucky paws on a pair of tickets for GK @ the Telewest. Just send an email, a postcard or a wodge of durty tenners to the usual sources, informing me of one of the DJs playing at the aforementioned.
Being the source of all club knowledge that I am, all attempts at fraud will be intercepted and dealt with… i.e. I’ll find a free literature distributor and check providing no bribes are forthcoming, and providing I pass one on the way to the army surplus store. Gung ho readers!
Leaving the postcode…
This little spot of motorway driving was prompted by the Icelandic funksters ‘GusGus’ doing the honours @ the Mint Club, Leeds. Doing very nicely now that ‘Basics’ have moved to pastures new, it was a pleasure to recline on their polo shaped stools (polo – mint, heheheh) and admire the trendy ladies and gents doing their thing with their fins.
Highlight of night being of course the ‘Gus’s new tune ‘David’ in full force. Lowlight of the night was no petrol stations on the North-bound A1 for 80miles, resulting in juice free car getting chilly in a lay-by. Thank heaven for the emergency stash in the boot, and also my can full of petrol, chortle. Must be all this army-wear promoting an organised resourceful nature in me. Psychic Jane predicts, along with the clobber, this will soon wear off. |
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