Elliot Eastwick returns
The Kiwi-lovin' Paper lads sent another chappie back our way. It was okay
7 Sep 2001
What, no Soane!? I dunno where the big man was, but the Grand Circle was emptier than I'd seen it, well, ever, when I arrived for Robodisco 17 (or something) on Friday.
But as usual there were plenty of beers and bubbles to be downed, chicks in cowboy hats to be smirked at and big comfy couches to lounge about on before Mr E took over.
Mr Eastwick, I mean - though if I was talking about the other sort I might've had a better time.
Thankfully, he made it on at about 2am, beating his last, allegedly drug-addled effort by at least two hours. A bit of Lee Perry and the floor was jumpin'.
Barely an hour into it he had his finger firmly on the Robodisco pulse. Whether it was the pashers up front or the sweaty shirtless guys that gave it away I don't know, but he was certainly playing for the lovers, not the groovers.
Thankfully, the big (and really quite hairy) E didn't fuck up nearly so many of the mixes this time (though there were a couple of shockers) and pulled out some pretty good tunes. In fact, his Latin-style growly rhumba-type sounds <i>(I know that's not an actual genre, but it's as good a description as you're gonna get from me)</i> proved so popular that by about 4 the Grand Circle sounded like some kind of salsa bar. When I spotted the couple attempting the lambada, it was time to go.
I wonder, when djs play strictly for the luvved-up amongst their audience, if they realise they sound god-awful to those of us whose taste in music doesn't reside in our wallets or with that dodgy guy grinning vacantly in the corner.