Fade’s Tour Diaries™….. part.3 in an intermittent series…

(or musings from across the globe.)

The Adelaide Shuffle

Not only does water run away down plug-holes the other way in the southern Hemisphere, but their dance moves have a distinct funk of their own. The Adelaide-Shuffle (modified from the erstwhile Melbourne-shuffle) is a spectacle to behold. Kind of like the Running Man, mixed-up with what we used to call the X-man in 1990, then sped-up and stripped of any recognisable “dancing” characteristics and replaced with the unsexy frenetic stomp of a wooden-legged man dealing with too-high a treadmill setting. People seem to bust this local move out at any given moment all over the club, for a burst of about 30 seconds of cardio intensity like a mating-ritual for ephedrine-drunk robots. It’s bad enough when the boys do it (and let’s face it, what dance move isn’t?) but some girls get involved too. It’s a wonder any pro-creation gets achieved at all in Southern Australia. This won’t be seen in a club near you soon. [*sauce got some footage tho…]

E-Cup Bolt-ons

The best self-description of a pair enhanced-breasts I’ve ever heard. Brisbanites don’t mince their words. They also party harder than anywhere else we’ve been this year. And look good while doing it. All year-round sunshine does wonders for keeping-up your beach-bod credentials and yet manage to never take yourself (or indeed anything) too seriously. The Monastery, Brisbane, we salute you. You bring the party.

The Return from Oz

22 hours in the air is just wrong. But coming down for one hour break to visit the toilets in Singapore airport is the most unexpected dose of luxury, your long-haul economy traveller can experience. [*pic attached] They are plusher than any of the hotels we’ve stayed in on this tour. They are nicer than my own bathroom at home. They are nicer than my whole flat tbh. Like when u go into a really flash restaurant loo and wished you lived there. (we all do that….right?). There is even an attendant guy actually cleaning- all the time- instead of offering you Chupa Chups and a £5 squirt of Hugo Boss. My parting tip to anyone flying-out East is to save your ablutions for Singapore airport.. and don’t do any home-improvements before you’ve taken notes there.

A gay day in Sydney
Day off in Sydney. Juice bars everywhere. They juice everything. And there are NO fat people. I get involved- apple, spinach, celery, spirulina and carrot. Yeah, pretty much like it sounds. And I hit the gym. Just me and a whole lot of bigger, fitter, balder gay men. I need to spend a lot more time pressing bench to fit in here. I look a lot better in Vauxhall.

It’s the evening again. Haven’t seen much daylight since the UK. Jetlag has turned us into vampiren. Works with the UK studio-tan nicely. Strong look. What is it with coloured shots here? Everyone keeps making us drink pink “wet pussies” and this horrible green Agua stuff. They all taste like sweet poison. I’m refusing any drinks that aren’t clear liquid till we get home.

Sydney set @Oxford Art Factory… DJ on after us was so wasted at one point he came on DURING our set and started looping the tune we were playing. Then he stopped it and put his cd in the deck! Sauce and I stood there, incredulous…looking at each other, mouths hanging open. We had to walk him off. 5 mins later he was back- said.. I really like this track- I said “thanks”. “Shall I put mine on?” he said, eyes rolling-round in his head. Er… no. Go away, please. Then as we come round the decks for the last tune, dj-spaceman manages to think we’ve left and stops the track dead- leaving us hanging out the front. Genius. Then he couldn’t get the other deck to work, because he “couldn’t see it”. I thought we got messy behind the decks. Humbling. Bumbling. Mumbling.

Plane to Perth
In-flight trailer for the musical “Wicked”. Such an inexcusable pile of turgid nonsense, I have not seen in a while. There are few things that make me more despairing of human-kind than the knowledge that enough people actually enjoy such rubbish enough for the whole genre to have not gone the way of cock-fighting. Banning is too weak a message to send to musicals. They need to be driven underground. “My character has such an interesting story, such depth and so many great songs to boot” said the wicked witch of the wherever. Oh please shoot me. And the in-flight feature film on the one big 80s-style screen at the front of the cabin is… Angels and Demons..
Christ.

Cairns
Fashion TV are looking for Australia’s next top model, or something, in the club we’re playing in. Six contenders left to go national. I was planning some R&R in hotel after the flight, but duty calls. Self-appointed guest judges… Sauce and I sit next to the actual judges and no-one really knows if we’re supposed to be there or not, so we get to look like we are. Which is pretty much how we run our whole lives.

The birds are really loud in Cairns. REALLY loud. Like being in the Hitchcock film. Quite unnerving as you walk near a tree that’s branches are screaming at you. That and rowdy Clapham-ites who’ve made it home insisting on high-fiving you in the street. Gotta be both hands apparently. I need more sleep for this.

Two double beds in each of our hotel rooms. So decadent when you’re not sharing with anyone else. Which bed do you go for? Only one night… bit of both? Seems such a waste to only sleep in one. Like the complimentary shower-cap. Has anyone actually used one of them in a shower, ever? I used to collect them. Just in case they came in handy. After 5years of touring and a lot of time to think, I concluded there really is no other use for shower-caps. And the sewing kit?? Darning on the spare bed. We’ve all dreamt of that. And the phone by the bed that has a high-low switch but no bloody off so they can always ring u in the morning stupor and “check” what time you are checking-out. I checked-in 9 hours ago. You really need my room before 12 o’clock so you can check I didn’t sleep in both beds? And breakfast. What is the point of breakfast that exists only in that worm-hole of time between 7am and 10am when no self-respecting hotel guest is of this planet?

Perth on a bank-holiday really is closed
And the Seasons hotel sub 56k dial-up internet has slowed my life down to GMT. I need the 7hrs ahead to get anything to happen before London goes to bed. Rubbish. To think this is how the internet used to be. My brain can’t go slowly enough to do all the things I need to do online at the pace they’re actually occurring.

The Loose Cannons share another hedonistic night @ The Westbury, reporting straight from the DJ booth and joined by Pat Pardy from Evil Nine.

The supporting track is a very nice Loose Cannon’s remix of the one and only Del Marquis: “Runaround”

Nice work boys!

Maxcast Team

Wow my feet hurt today. Must’ve pounded a good solid 10 miles of West London tarmac on Bank Holiday Monday – at Europe’s biggest outdoor streetparty, the Notting Hill Carnival.

We’d been booked to headline at The Masons Arms afterparty on the Harrow Road along with numerous London Luminaries from the Dance Music fraternity: Justin Robertson, Dub Pistols, The Whip, The Cuban Brothers to name but a few so at about 2pm (I know, I know – must try harder at that whole “morning” thing) – I headed off to get my Soca on, whistle at the ready…

I stepped into The Cobden Club on Kensal Road as I realised it was Kiss HQ for the day. Inside I ran into Rickie & Melvin (Kiss Breakfast Presenters par excellence), reporting live alongside DJ Swerve & Jez Welham. Quick hello’s & a cheeky plug for our DJ set later, & I was back in the thick of it.

Eventually made it down to the Westway where Red Bull were hosting the Major Lazer Sound System BBQ, featuring Diplo, Switch, Toddla T & just about every other big hitter in the Electro scene. It was basically THE big ticket for clubheads at Carnival this year – strictly invite only – & although we were on the guestlist, it soon became clear that the 50-odd other people clamouring to get in were all “On The List” too! Security were having none of it. We were all clearly way too late. Gutted.

So that was a non-starter. I heard the first 20 minutes of Major Lazer from outside though – sounded pretty sick. Time for Plan B: off to the S.L.A.C.K. Party at The Metropolitan. Much better idea. We easily beat the rush for the 7pm official start time. Rather depressingly, Popeye & Olive Oil, who had been casually snaking their way across West London all this time at 1/2 mph managed to beat us though, & they lolled their collective heads rather disparagingly at me (I felt) as we queued up to get in. So much for my sneaky back routes…

Inside, Radio1’s Annie Mac was throwing down some bouncy drum’n'bass on the packed upstairs terrace. The sound system was sorely lacking any proper bass but it really didn’t matter & one by one, just about anyone who’s ANYone on the club scene materialised from the nearby environs, regaling one another with the highs & lows of their experiences over the weekend. Both Switch & Diplo arrived, still glowing from their huge Major Lazer gig, Fake Blood was there just soaking up the general carnival atmosphere, my Kiss compatriot Sinden
was on fine form, DJ Zinc, Toddla T, Jack Beats, Seiji, Skream, Nick Grimshaw… The list was all but endless. My good friend DJ Sam Roqwell rather worryingly observed at one point “if they dropped a bomb on this place right now, they would decimate the remix community…” Well quite.

Had such a brilliant day. Carnival in the Sunshine makes me feel honoured to call myself a Londoner. Until next year then everyone…

Saucy

Check out ALL the pics on the Maxcast Tumblog!

Evening class, & how are we today..?

Busy, busy week it has been for us. We did a live show with our Lego Johnson band on Friday; just a small club show at a place called Juju on the King’s Road here in London. Now obviously, we do quite a few
shows so they don’t usually tend to intrude too heavily on our working week but on this occasion our regular drummer Sam couldn’t make it so we had to train up a dep to do the gig. Believe me, that kept us busy.

As any of you out there in band’s will doubtless attest, a drummer is the backbone of any musical outfit & almost impossible to replace so we went about the task of finding his stand-in with a fairly sizable
anvil of trepidation. Step forward the almost God-like Aicha, whom we borrowed from our friend Kissy Sellout’s live band. She’s an absolute banshee on the drums & she utterly nailed the 6 song set with only one
rehearsal. No mean feat I can assure you. Even so, the gig was still 2 days away &, well, you just never know what’s gonna happen on stage til you’re actually up there, no matter how hard you practice.

I think (& certainly hope) she won’t be offended if I say that, even though she had been great in rehearsal & soundcheck, the band nevertheless approached the show itself with a heightened sense of nervousness. Swapping drummers is like… let’s see… – like going onto the football field with not just a new goalie, but a whole new defensive line, – or turning up to your driving test only to discover the examiner has a left-hand drive car*. You know it could & should be fine but equally it could just as easily be an utter, unmitigated
disaster. In the end though, we needn’t have worried; she totally owned it & all that extra pre-match tension just helped fuel our collective adrenalin rush.

It was a genuinely unique show in the truest sense of the word & whilst the Gallagher Brothers were off in a field somewhere preparing to let a few thousand people down with their last minute no-show, I’d like to think we gave a couple of hundred sweaty, Chelsea ravers a night that exceeded their expectations. Cheers to everyone that was down there & extra special love to Aicha – watch out Kissy, we’ve got our eye on that one!

Gotta send a little love out also to our lovely friend DJ Goldierocks, who threw another one of her fast-becoming-legendary bbq’s up in Dalston on Saturday. I went to one a couple of months back & bumped
into fellow MaxCaster Mr Hudson there. He was tearing the roof off V this weekend so he was not in attendance at Miss Rocks’, but a good time was had by all even so. Catch you at the next one, Mr H.

Saucy