We sent our editor Jimmy Coultas to embark on a three day rave mission, embattling himself in the Southport chalets for the Bugged Out Weekender. Read his views below.
Jimmy Coultas
Last updated: 27th Mar 2014
On the face of it it’s an unthinkable project. A seaside resort in Northern England, a full fortnight before Spring starts to rob the chill from the air, transformed into a party paradise. No Balearic insanity, no Adriatic decadence – just a rave held in soggy Southport. Madness when you think about it. Which makes the success of it all even more rewarding.
The Bugged Out Weekender celebrated its third year in a year where the club itself marked twenty years of events, changing the clubbing landscapes in its three major UK city residencies over that tenure; Manchester, Liverpool and London.
Boasting a line up that cut across a whole swathe of genres and sounds, the moody melodies of Sasha, seductive techno of Seth Troxler, jacking house of Heidi and much, much more, we arrived in Southport to be greeted by bitter winds and cold temperatures. Luckily the fun would all be indoors.
This isn’t VIP clubbing. The accommodation is basic and functional but considerably more homely that a tent, and a base simply to host a three day party that pretty much doesn’t end. Once settled in we were ready to go, surrounded by a litany of chalets coursing with music, people and an over-riding sense of the hedonistic abandon about to engulf us all.
The venues in itself constitute of an old fashioned family holiday club space, but transformed into a blistering environ for a thoroughly modern take on acid house. The production, considering where it was housed, was first class, with quality sound bolstered by a number of eye catching lasers across the main two spaces, the huge main arena and then the second slightly more intimate room two.
The bar for room three certainly had seen better days, as had the arcade which acted as the one of the strangest club annexes we’ve ever witnessed, but the former comes equipped with a refreshing caveat on two levels. Not only does it, unsurprisingly, serve drinks, but the structuring of the prices are caught in a weird time vortex in comparison to other festivals, severely reducing cash you need to part with to secure drinks.
A round of three drinks cost seven pounds – the price sometimes for a single beverage. That represents astonishing value over the course of the weekend, making partying at the Weekender surprisingly considering the scintillating pedigree of the artists involved. This isn't just reasonable, it's insane.
And then of course there is the music. Over the weekend it was a typically predictable response, but by that we mean reassuringly quality. The two standouts in our eyes were two selectors who have built their reputation on delivering what is expected of them time and time again, legends in their own field based on a mutant consistency.
Green Velvet’s crushing techno and DJ EZ’s consistently brilliant tour de force through the UK Garage annals were exactly as you’d of expected, and consequently blisteringly brilliant.
Case in point Velvet, who you wonder must be slightly bored maybe of uttering those immortal words about laughing Gas, Cameras and bad little kiddies that he accompanies with the frenetic drums of ‘Flash’ (above). That thought escaped this writer’s head pretty rapidly though when realising that having heard him play this record a tally in excess of double figures over multiple DJ sets, the delirium it causes to ensure never loses its appeal – it’s the techno barricade at its very best.
And then EZ. Quite simply, he’s an absolute monstrosity behind the decks. Has he ever played a bad set? Encapsulating everything about the joy of playing records, he rips through a storming set of classics and unheralded gems all stitched together by his scintillating tricks.
Spinbacks, swift cuts and constant EQ tomfoolery all aiding to weave an aural tapestry so swift and enticing you forget that, actually, Pied Piper’s ‘Do you really like it’ is shit. In EZ’s hands though it’s an undeniable classic for the full minute he unleashes it upon you, and there's no denying the sheer quality of other cuts like Future Underground Nation's immortal 'It's the way' (below).
Elsewhere Claude VonStroke, Dave Clarke, Boddika and Kerri Chandler and all delivered sets desrving of their individual reputations, but it wasn’t totally bereft of surprises. Monki’s slick soul infused two step was an absolute delight (even more worthy considering she had to follow on from that man EZ).
Jackmaster peppered a bass driven set with some sublime moments, a particular highlight hearing Cyndi Lauper shuffling side by side with Ten Walls. And special mention too to Liverpool cartel Abandon Silence, helming a pretty hazy pool party wickedly in the absence of a flight delayed Skream.
Bugged Out is a triumph simply because you know what you are there for, a party. The music was pretty much an excellent snapshot of the clubbing climate in this country at this present moment rather than a painstaking, with Sunday nicely doffing its cap to the Bugged Out of yesteryear. If you want a no nonsense rave soundtracked by the cream of the Uk club scene, you really can;t find fault with this.
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