Photos by Victor Frankowski
There’s the old saying from Field Of Dreams, ‘Build it and they will come’ but nobody said anything about ‘build it, break most of it, build it again – one more time in a tent, in a field and stick it all in a van and drive it to London…and they will come’ but we thought we’d try it. The word had spread since all those months ago on new year’s eve and it seemed the good folk of London village were ready for their very own house party.
The gang behind the amazing Leefest had taken on a couple of railway arches under London Bridge station and kitted them out with all the necessaries, including a humunculous Funktion 1 sound system – all we needed now were the knick knacks, bric a brac, a line up and people to fill it. It was 300 miles from home so we had to make it pretty special.
A while back we’d bumped into the most one off band in the world and, when we told them what we did, they said we should look at doing something together – this was our chance. The band were The Bays – they’ve never recorded and they’ve never even practiced. Their mantra is ‘Performance Is The Product’ – brought together after years playing as session musicians, they’d fallen out of love with the music business but never lost their passion for playing. Andy Gangadeen, recognised as THE best drummer in the world, currently in Chase and Status and formerly of everyone from The Spice Girls to ZZ Top, took our phone call and the first band was sorted. Eek, this was going to be good.
You know that scene in The Magnificent Seven when new members are recruited to the raggle taggle bunch of misfit heroes? Well, it was very like that but with slightly less horses. Instead of the cool cheroot smoking Yul Brinner we had the cool cheroot smoking members of Black Daniel. Craig, the only man to rock the fez, fur coat and Hercule Poirot moustache look properly and Luke who was armed to the teeth with so many killer records he did two sets without breaking sweat.
It was such a great chance to meet up with all the people from the capital we’d spent time with since we started and we counted them in:
Ben Esser – still as suave as ever and with equal measures of both drum and bass, he warmed everyone up so The Bays could finish them off.
Hatcham Social – only days before we’d see them play their best ever gig at our tiny but ever so sweaty Charlatans gig and last time they DJ’d for us they only brought 3 records, yet still put in a stirling performance. They didn’t let us down!
Loose Fit – they did their live thang for us at Easter and we’d not visited them since they relocated to Dalston. Their record bags were stuffed and everything got dusted down and spun round.
Jade had joined the exodus to London and we’d missed he no nonsense DJing, that somehow nobody can replicate. She’d definitely not gone all Shoreditch on us and let loose with everything from The Offspring to Michael Jackson – everything that sums up the house party.
Everyone seemed to get what we were doing and the Boxfresh goodies were stashed in the Boxfresh bags alongside the contents of the vintage shop we’d cleared – boys in leather and pearls dancing with girls in tweed. Only at the house party. We’d been waiting for the appearance of Vice whose name we’d been sent for the guest list, like expectant fathers we paced around wondering what they’d make of it – no word as yet but we saw them tumbling out at 5am and they looked like they’d had a right old time of it.
Bandwise the crowd was warmed up by the ever amazing Bubbz and The Black Notez, mashing up The Cure with a smdgen of hip hop and a load of fun. They took to the stage in newly acquired goodies from the wardrobes and they lit the blue touch paper. Aaron Wright who we’d seen at Glastonbury with his folk blues singalongs made sure it was impossible to pigeonhole what was going on and the rulebook was well and truly shredded with Arlo and Fell. They describe themselves as Hillbilly Dubstep and that just about captures what they do – their set segued into Arlo’s Dad, better known as ex Happy Monday marraca troubler Bez with his take on DJing//MCing and a railway arch in London will forever be a part of Manchester.
By now it was 4am and we were 6 hours in – something extra special was needed in order to take it over the finish line. And like the cavalry they arrived – all suited, booted and looking ready for the dancefloor, Dean Chalkley and Si Cheeba unloaded their vinyl sevens and it all suddenly took a turn for the Wigan. By day Dean is one of the most brilliant music photographers around, snapping everyone from Jay Z to Marilyn Manson but with his own records there’s nothing so obvious – from northern soul to anything retro that filled the dancefloor the final two hours flew by.
Then. That was it. The sound of nowt but plastic glasses beig squashed under brooms – the bed was covered in footprints, a ton of stuff had left with the party goers including the hoover, kettle and several tins of dog food. Pretty much everything except the kitchen sink.