The film crew sent my camera-shy, telly-phobic self scuttling for the relative safety of the darker rooms before I had the chance to immerse myself in their discourse. But before I move on to that, I’d like to point out that I might have found the discussion to be a teeny bit more inclusive if the panel members had been seated in the center of the room, clubbers surrounding them and free to join in. Because (to quote the immortal Dynamo City) “We’re the future, your future”.

Not that I’m holding this against the Luminopolis crew, oh no. The idea of the debate forum was a good one, although it seemed to be in trial phase, like many things going on that night. Just a friendly suggestion for next time…

There was great dancing in the electro house room, the only place where I saw people really letting go. Multiple square screen projections flicker behind the decks, a-la Brick Lane. Better still were the crowd, who were anything but Brick Lane – friendly, fun and as up for trying something new as I am. I’d never really noticed until then how a grittier atmosphere suits that style of music (which my friend called ‘filthy house’). I’ll have to give that another try in the future.

The chill-out room was as chill-out rooms usually are. White-tented dancefloor under black lights; wire and cloth creations blooming from the floor like sci-fi fungi… On to the next room, then: Small World.

I should point out here that wasn’t drinking for the first time ever in a nightclub. As a result, two realizations slowly sunk in over the course of the night. 1) Nearly every trendy/eclectic/crusty/ psytrancer around me was extremely pissed and 2) not drinking makes you So. Hungry.

By the time I’d reached the Small World room, I was so intent on feeding that the only thing I clearly remembered afterwards was the unbleached Venetian cream cake I ate (a steal at 50p a slice). There were some sort of ethnic bands playing in the background, mad tango dancers, and what-not. I barely took them in through a sugar-induced haze. Sorry; you’ll have to blame the baker.

I was just about to say, “Excuse me, can I have another slice..?” when my friend re-appeared and beckoned for me to follow him outside for a smoke. That was when I almost tripped over a portrait-drawing class in the corner of the room. As you do.

Before I had a chance to digest all of this (excuse the pun) we were at the front of the queue leading outside to the smoking section.

“You have a smoking bracelet?” asked a smiley, likeable man in an orange security vest, standing by the door.

“No,” I said, “Where can we get one?”

“At the bar,” he said cheerfully.

“Are they free?” I asked heavily, already knowing that they weren’t. He laughed and shook his head.

It was a shame, really, because I wanted to like him. I did. But I couldn’t, not after having paid twenty quid to get in, then two quid for a bag check, then another pound to get the ciggies out of the bag, and now this…. Liking him was simply costing too much.

Sad to say that this was my lasting impression of the party. As I counted my spare change the next morning, all I could think was, “I so can’t afford to like this.” I had rent to pay, after all.

Therein lies the complication with club parties: that invisible cash barrier my friend and I kept coming up against. You can give me all the freedom in the world inside of a club, but if I have to pay for it then it’s not really free, is it? Granted, SEOne is one of the more expensive venues to rent, but that only makes me wonder why they used it. The more people have to strain against that cash barrier to get at your ideals, the less accessible those ideals become.

Moving On To The Future Of Rave

Even if the Luminati haven’t come from the same free party background that I have, if they’re serious about spreading their messages of creativity and awareness-raising then they ought to consider doing non-club parties from time to time. Of course, this raises the question of how to do non-club parties without risking people lives, which has become an issue over recent years.

At the first free parties I went to (circa ’97, old-timer) there seemed to be an anarchist/anti-capitalist philosophy implicit in the parties themselves, which had nothing to do with rhetoric and everything to do with experience.

Trusting people to make their own rules in a free environment seemed to mine untapped reserves of creativity and sensitivity from them. Of course, those parties had a lot chemical help from MDMA and acid, drugs which chemically-enhance creativity and sensitivity.

Fast-forward to the early 2000s, when cocaine and ketamine dominated the scene and parties had switched to mining selfishness and cynicism from people, instead.

Self-regulation of free parties became more extreme in response to the violence that resulted. As the restrictions grew and grew, creativity evaporated and the anarchist undertone of the scene became more rhetorical than experiential.

Now it’s reached a point where creating a totally free, creative experience is just too fraught with legal and illegal threats by everyone from government to gangs. People who would once have immersed themselves in free parties increasingly choose (or are forced to) express themselves and educate themselves in isolated ways. Photos, videos, clothing, websites… I can remember a time when these things were accessories to the experience of a party. Now they’re a substitute for it, which leaves a basic need – the need for experience - unmet.

So where do we go from here? I don’t know, but since no one else seems to know either, I’m going to throw this suggestion out there. I think organizers should carry on doing free parties… but insist that people leave their on-line gadgets and status symbols at home. For one thing, these objects create a barrier between the person and party.

How many people did I see watching Luminopolis through their camera phones, eyes distanced by a mechanical lens? If only people would stop trying to capture the moment and start being it, they’d merge with their scene and each other. Establishing a personal rapport with the people around you is what really makes for a safe, free place to be.

Secondly, gadgets attract thieves. It’s a fact. In 1997 you never saw people holding anything more expensive than a can of beer at a party. And guess what? Roving gangs of thugs were not a problem.

“With freedom comes responsibility,” the old saying goes. If people started taking more responsibility for themselves and their belongings, I reckon the scavengers would soon lose interest in squat parties. And just like that, a cheaper forum for awareness-raising would be born.

© Alexia

It is Friday and I am heading south to play an acoustic set with some friends, not at a concert, but at a party in a garden with 6000 other “gardeners” of which I am one. With soundscape courtesy of Beth Orton, Ffion Regan and Captain Beefheart, I meander along country lanes aware that I have seen no signs to confirm that I am going in the correct direction. Promptly I am forced to take a left out of the trees, and there before me, on horizon, are several tall silken masts calling out like sirens bathing in the ochre of this glorious summer’s evening. I smile to myself as I turn into the entrance since I am greeted with the first of many signs: “come and play”.

I quickly find the gang, pitch my new tent and, in readiness for the rest of the evening, shimmy into the ludicrous juxtaposition that comprises a slinky cocktail dress, combat trousers and wellies. Yes, this festival is all about dressing up and letting go, and there are few, if any, party poopers. Everyone has made an effort, and this particular guy in a frock is feasting on the continual stream of female compliments as he continues on his reconnaissance mission.

And no, my arse doesn’t look big in it either – but if it were, I could always call in at the Emotional Rescue Area, seek the advice of the Bad Advice Bears or be granted a wish by the beautifully enigmatic Fairy Wishmother.

The party is set around a magnificent lake. A natural amphitheatre forms before the Great Stage which itself looms up from the waters like some monstrous great white shark, mouth gaping wide at the sight of such frivolity.

Impressive as it is, and even more so as the night draws in and the lighting casts more magic over the garden, the “Shark Stage” is but a single piece of the whole. For all around the shark are smaller more intimate, more quirky stages, like schools of pilot fish. The Feast of Fools, the Living Room with its cosy intimacy, Wild Things Stage, Small World and the Pagoda are to name but a very few. And passing between all of these satellites becomes my gardening task for the entire weekend.

I catch the end of the Echo and the Bunnymen set. They blast out some classics and Ian McCulloch, steeped in perpetual arrogance, announces that the last song “The Killing Moon” is the “greatest song ever written”. I beg to differ but thoroughly enjoy it all the same. I wander over to the floating Pagoda Stage to catch some tunes. It is packed and the gentle swaying motion is slightly disconcerting at first so I decide to go back on land and see part of the Utah Saints set before heading for a more intimate set of “dub-diddly” music at the Small World Solar Stage.

I have no real agenda other than to treat myself to a decent nights sleep on the first night but as the sun’s first rays warm my face I am about to kiss goodbye to sleep for the rest of the weekend.

We wander up on the hill that overlooks the lake, buy some breakfast and sit comfortably in one of the many cushioned seating areas. It is a great vantage point and I stay for quite a while relaxing and chatting to people. Suitably satiated we return to camp, change into another outfit and wander off to experience more.

I happen upon some very inspiring installations and live art. There is an enormous hand that floats in the middle of the lake, a tunnel made from pallets, half a car, a door that opens and closes on anything you wish, a funeral parade, a pimp-your-pram stall and the 'Cats are Little People in Fur Coats' Action Camp. Meow! I am granted a wish by the beautiful Fairy Wishmother, catch the end of a mud wrestling match and witness a boat race on the lake.

Over on the main stage is the sultry Candie Payne. She oozes out some fine numbers but I remain unconvinced, even if she does look like a cross between Audrey Hepburn and Sharon Osbourne. I am even less convinced by the hype surrounding Mercury Prize nominees New Young Pony Club. Despite impulsive angular guitar underpinned by stomping bass lines, the rather preppish keyboards and derivative 80’s prancing and posturing are very much indicative of the current state the media fawning over uninspiring UK artists at the expense of informing of real talent .Yawn. The rest of the large crowd are in obvious disagreement so I wander off in search of the emperor’s tailor.

I fail in my quest but do find the Vampire tent. Having interviewed a really nice bunch of vampires at a meet in London a few years earlier, I am almost tempted to participate in the Vampire Speed Dating. Unsure as to whether my dentistry and neck will be up to the task, I simply admire the people lazing around in coffins and try to figure out whether a coffin will fit in my tent.

It is starting to drizzle so I follow the fairy lights back to camp where I cement wonderful friendships with my new-found family over the course of the entire night. It is not long before the Sunday morning sunshine informs me that the rain has ceased and the umbrellas and rainwear can be put away. Another glorious day ahead to be filled with merriment and lunacy.

It is time to change again and go on a group wander. Dressed as a duck, Mick outclasses us all and no doubt will be remembered for many a year to come. He is photographed and filmed continually and not once steps out of character. It is getting rather warm so we decide sit down a quench our thirst with Pimms galore before the onslaught of the Great Custard Pie fight and a fantastic cricket match.

Before long I am on stage performing a short set of acoustic numbers appropriately at the Feast of Fools. I have an amazing time and even get to get a butterfly tattoo and say hello to a white rabbit – a real one!

Instruments, gear and food sorted, we head off to experience more. Johnny Bramwell of I am Kloot fame is performing an intimate solo set. It is excellent but I would have preferred the band to be present to help drown out the rest of the festival.

Eventually we end up at the Great Stage for the finale. The legendary Prince Buster and his band have the entire crowd performing ska dancing to the very best of their abilities. There is full moon, a clear starry sky and after the final encore the entire festival howls in unison to herald the end of the organised lunacy. Magnificent!

I finally go back to my tent for some sleep at dawn feeling very tired but very happy. This has been an almost perfect weekend and I am planning to return next year and make it perfect. But for now I head north to begin the start of my adventures in the deserts of California and Nevada. Hi ho Silver!
©Zee
photo gallery

It worked with an underground feel where the smell of squat parties oozed from all those present. A friendly assortment of smiley peeps steered the night forward.
I particularly liked the “Papadisco Sound System” in residence at the bar. Yeah some good stuff, even reggae in a Brixton stylee. It worked well to dispel that usual weird ambiance of that unadorned space between the main room and the chill out. The bar girls were mellow and gentle and that has to be mentioned!

A fantastic change from sauna to chill out room has occurred since my last visit. A simple solution was provided by 2 monster fans and I stayed there and danced, especially to Hamish, Bedouin and Simon B from Twisted Records.
The main room was busy with room for expression. I particularly grooved to Beatnik, Etnarama and Naxto who drifted the sound with enough distortion to keep me intrigued and asking for more stimuli. Brilliant, it is psy-trance?

That’s where it’s at now! It’s the scene that will take you further in self-exploration and release you to trip the light fantastic. Over?
Yeah, those nights are fast and furious that you are losing yourself in time that doesn’t wait.
© Le Mufti
Photo gallery

Dillinja and Lemon D, the duo behind Valve, are pretty talented guys: as well as being effin’ good producers and DJ’s, they actually built their rig especially for Drum & Bass and it is known to be the loudest in the world. It’s also a very clean sound with absolutely no distortion or any other unwanted noise. Because of the volume, earplugs were available on the door, and there were signs everywhere advising people to wear them to protect their hearing. The idea of Valve soundsystem is you turn up the volume and feel the vibration of the bass thru’ your body. Nice.

The crowd was very mixed racially, all quite young, and very friendly. There was also some mad leaping, jumping and hip shaking on that dancefloor. I was in the moshpit dancing with these huge Asian guys, and I had to be careful not to get knocked over!

My favourite set of the night came from Pendulum, who absolutely rocked it in the main room. This was the third time I’ve seen this lot – they played all their hit tracks ‘Tarantula’, ‘The Vault’ etc, but they sounded far better than I’d ever heard them before. Amazing what a difference decent speakers make.

The bassbins cranked up to the max when Lemon D followed with an insane set, cutting between jungle, and a heavy, grimy, mishmash of world groove samples. Arriba! Personally, I would have liked it even more if the MC hadn’t been ranting incessantly throughout the whole set. Sometimes it’s good just to let the music talk.

In the bar area, DJ Flight’s set was like rolling waves: from liquid D&B, getting progressively harder, then taking it down again slightly in preparation for the next DJ. Shame I missed a lot of her set, but she’s now most definitely on my ‘must see’ list.

After that the vodka took hold, and I lost track of who was playing, in what room, and when. The ‘baby box’ is an interesting little space with chillout sofas surrounded by what looked like fairy lights dangling in fronds from the ceiling. The bar is a larger space, with lots more activity happening, and the ‘box’ aka the main room, was like a massive D&B church where the faithful lose it to the beats and feel the bass in their bellies.

The general feel of MoS is quite commercial, and the bar is expensive at £8 for a double vodka, but at least it’s quality stuff, served with ice & slice.
Security kept a low profile, with just the occasional guy walking through the crowd. There was a presence on the door, but it wasn’t rude and intrusive like it used to be at Ministry.

This venue once had a terrible reputation for over-zealous and moody security, and because of that, I avoided it for years. However in the last two times I’ve been recently, the doormen have actually been pretty chilled. Keep it up like this and I’ll become a regular.

©Mandi Peers

Medusa?
Amazed it still stands where so many other “dives” have gone by the wayside. It has a feel like Camberwell’s Imperial Gardens once had. It’s barely a step up from the type of squat you’d find in a warehouse furnished with the most basic of amenities but resources of comfort are more often the product of the mind’s imagination. Well let’s just say it is a place for partying free of bureaucratic obstacles and hassles. Who cares about another dodgy toilet? When the security is ok and the staff gentle with a smile if somewhat elusive at times.

The night?
Again with trepidation, adrenaline rushing, we entered ready for the night, without end, to take us on a journey of the senses. And we were not disappointed. From that moment on the magical mystery tour by DJ Peace and the gang increased its momentum and never let go. Electro, beats and an astute mix of techno embellished what was essentiallt psy-trance experience but like no other. It oozed with invention or should I say experimentation. It dared to challenge us from our “blasé” state of partying boredom…you know, that “done it all and seen it all attitude” etcetera... But the experience was being lived there, with every step, on the dance floor. New forms of expression were evolving out of these mixes. There was so much more to be heard which hadn’t yet been collaged into forms and colours. And as they blossomed, our senses were progressively overawed and the dancing logically took over taking us beyond our usual moves. Hats off to Spacedout Infinity Sounds!

Atmospheric heat alert!
Hardly anyone was to be found upstairs in the wooden panelled chill-out room where a cocktail was being served up of funky beats with a more than reasonable smattering of various “riddims” and some minimal techno, which always reminds me of tech house without the fake tan. The oven-like conditions were compelled by a restriction from the local council to keep the noise down for the local residents benefit. So the door to the roof there is kept shut, by order, which is a shame, as over the years it had relieved us with some well-appreciated coolness. The room therefore never filled to capacity, Yes shame! It had loads of potential music-wise while being lit in a surreal red glow that gave the impression that the whole space had been dyed red from top to bottom.

Bar?
Or is that a saloon with too much attitude? But that goes with the territory in this part of Colharbour Lane. It too often feels like re-entering Babylon when your mind is going cosmic and your body still heats from the dancing. The journey has begun and cannot end. You are buzzing and the adrenaline is now in full throttle mode. But wait! This bar. Pause to think about this point: Its something that always seems to clash with the overall mood of the party. You enter normality with a hint of dodge. As if shielded by its own protection screen this watering hole still resists the parties that come a visiting. May be also because it is never decorated. There is no follow through in the theme that illustrates the event. It has the look and feel of a pub and nothing more.

Fourth gear and counting…
Predominantly black with hints of blues and white sparkly lights accompanied the action in the main psy-trance arena. It was just enough to be effective. Quite dark and moody but always tempting to stay and linger in. Tickled all over by electric tension before the dancing finally takes us away and we are truly gone. By far, the best room with the added bonus of an upstairs gallery. A black painted staircase takes you to a hidden dimension. It has a feel to it that adds to the wild journeys of the imagination that are ridden by a host of sensations.
This night remains quite clear where so many other nights, of late, have troubled my waking state with feelings of blurredness.

Often failing me in proper recall. Too elaborate for me to grasp or explain. To clearly describe from my addled memory…Hmm indeed! What types of visuals had enthralled me on those nights? And the music… a thumping mishmash that still resonates in the cranium and it’s Tuesday! Wicked!

This was a great night of the senses by Spacedout Infinity Sounds while it mingled with that regular lot of connoisseurs. Yeah you! The “Dudes and Duchesses”: Mature and international travellers that you are. All of us are astronauts of the mind with sentimental bollocks shared to the endless spiral of the musical onslaught.
Yeah!
We’ll be back, I mean they...
©Le Mufti

Photo Gallery
Spacedout Infinity Sounds

What happened?...it went too fast!
Yes sir! Tiredness somehow seems irrelevant to moan about here.
The flashing strobes, the blurred imagery of décor and video swirls in our minds.
The continuous unadulterated movement of people, lost in their off-loading of the passing week, now released into full-blown manic adrenaline.
Energy is there to exhale into this. A powerful mix of psy trance at times bordering on techno.
Electronica with soul that works deep into our psyches.

But sometimes too uncaring as well in it’s machine-like thump, crash, bang and whizz of echoes bouncing off the walls. This aggression of the senses never ceased. We soaked it up with all present there, sharing imaginative expression together in a veiled solidarity of purpose.
I know I danced as if it was my first party. I danced as if there was no tomorrow, no week ahead. I danced as if I was in a squat party that had found its niche for the first time in a club environment. A place down a cut-throat street in Southwark.

Contra-culture comes to Jack’s without having to look over its shoulder all night. This is a place where fresh anarchic creativity and attitude in motion is welcomed and tolerated by all. There are no rules: there is just the music and the company to guide us all into that “unwind mode”.

On the down note, the chill out room was a tad too dark and felt oppressive because the rich decorations there were somehow visually disconcerting in relation to the dub and reggae beats that trespassed the progressive electronic landscape. In effect, there was a lack of continuity. It was indeed hard to relax sometimes or even to keep dancing in front of the cosmic DJ booth. Well except for those heavy trippers who enjoy mixing heavy bass beats alongside progressive beats.
Why? To me that’s like mixing E=MC2 versus Ragamuffin! Innit?!
It was unfortunate (sic) hiccup as the overall set up was good. It went from electro to minimal techno throughout the night, with varying high points, caused essentially by the intrusiveness of the reggae. It jolted us to flee in a hurry from our reverie of astral flight back to the main room’s action.

Sometimes the mix worked yes, but it was too often too disjointed from one DJ to another. Yes, puzzling because of their choice of tunes. Often too strong to chill to because the (ethnic) bass sound was distorting the flow of the electro-science rhythms with an upsetting regularity. But there were plenty of other good rhythms and poetry there to glide to.

The main room won hands down for its consistency. Loads of respect goes to Compressor and his mates who kept the momentum alive there well into the Sunday morning. This is a party here that works but needs to improve the mood of it’s chill out room. It needs to define a structure of “order of play” for it’s DJs. Too much distortion in the rate of volume which also needs to be addressed so that all the contrasting styles can work properly. This is not by any means a major problem though. This is a winning formula, which is well attended by all who dig psy. A party that will be talked about for ages until we meet again at Jack’s.
© Le Mufti
Photo Gallery

Yet no problems here! As this is not a regular night on the calendar it is usually more then well attended even if sometimes the venue don’t open the doors until 10.45…not very together, you might say!

But that’s ok. The wait was well worth it. The place decorated with a lot of care and attention. Bright UV colours throughout. The chill out room was a feast of reds, oranges and yellows looking down from the ceiling in a sort of matrix-like arrangement of strings, fabrics and images. It had a tea stall with light refreshments served all night by friendly staff.

Yeah! all the peeps from the security onwards were mellow. That’s got to be one of the main advantages of this venue and why it’s so popular with underground peeps at the moment, while main stream clubs still try to lure us into their pseudo-underground parties. But who is duped these days? Definitely not this crew of DJs and their mates..

The main room was happy throughout the night and sometimes left the chill out room partially empty for the first hours of the night. The music was consistent and I’d like to mention “Error Collective” who didn’t disappoint and kept it close to the groin with the intensity of their set. Carlos Santan who was deep, dark and dirty and the roller coaster ride continued with the likes of Jamie Robinson who was impressive, Spiney also tickled my ear drums with his lively brand of soulful psy trance.

The entire psy trance spectacle was excellent with some interesting samples taken from heavy metal bands like Led Zeppelin and Lynard Skynard with the odd soupcon of punk-gothic…
The one thing that puzzled me was why there weren’t any copies on sale of the new album on the night? I know I wasn’t the only one interested in acquiring a copy. It later transpired that in a typically hippy fashion there were problems with the final mastering hence no records then but they should be here now. Long live underground! Check Wildthings site for more info.

Wildthings know how to throw a good party. Always worth changing your plans at the last minute if they are in town. Proven DJs that will keep you dancing most of the night with a friendly vibe to hug your senses into a big grin of psychedelic pleasure.
This bunch of dudes also has remained faithful to their underground roots and the love of the music. It’s reasonably priced throughout with a proven line up to release the weekly drudgery and welcome in a higher state of pleasure.
Be there next time!
© Le Mufti
Wildthings Records

A good crowd was present first but had drifted away by 4am to catch Atlantis banging at the Colliseum. Well, you know, for all those hardcore hedonists who don’t know how to stop! And need to keep on partying until lunchtime or even into Monday if given half the chance.
Fairytales is a lovely party that has been around for a few years now and they presented vivacious psytrance throughout the night.
Simo, Marcello and all the Fairy Tales crew did a fine job. I particularly liked the two parabolic dishes suspended above the DJ decks reflecting light effects like a frame to the VJing screen behind.
It produced a very effective visual stimulation that was quite mesmerising especially if some of the present were experiencing an inward journey of fun with visuals to boot.
The upstairs space was pretty funky with some light progressive and ambient, which I wasn’t familiar with but which impressed me nonetheless. Nova was particularly inventive with a wide repertoire of smooth eclectic offerings that merged into a sound tapestry at the decks that created a background for conversations in the chill out with mates recovering from the action downstairs that had it's ups and lows during the night. Special mention to Simo who was one of the highlights with Nick No name who never disappoints and keeps you figuring on the dance floor where this DJ is going to take you next.
...

Atlantis at the Colliseum was thronging in sweat with total action on the dance floors of the two rooms on offer. The main room was quite hectic with the clock informing me that it was 8am and still we all danced without a worry or care, as if the night had just started!

I pitched my dancing space on the platform left of the stage and danced my socks off to banging psytrance delivered with a high octane, while watching all the peeps giving it large.

Reminded me of those rave parties you used to trawl the M25 with your crew on a weekend many eons ago.

That same energy and joy converted on people’s faces and so late into the morning it was really great to see and be part of.

The second room was meant to be a sort of chill out but I wasn’t impressed since one could not rest there.

It was another dance room with a lighter selection of house and progressive beats but still banging nevertheless with the same intensity as the main room.

And the main area it was which stole the show because it never ceased in the intensity of participation and thus till 10am or was that lunchtime?
©Le Mufti
Fairy tales gallery
Atlantis Gallery

We made our way around the stunning building, soaking up the luscious atmosphere, checking out the dramatic decor - classically sumptuous sexy darkness and heavy red velvet drapes, to finally settle down for a while in the amphitheatre. It was a generous seating for the less adventurous ones, to watch the visuals - monsters and naked ladies, silhouette striptease with ostrich feathers – astounding stimulating eye candy.

We couldn't chill out for long though, as “Can'tsitdownjumparoundandupsidedown” 50's rock & roll & swinging twist were pumped out into crowd. When the opening band, Last Man Standing in their pimply outfits came to the stage the enormous ballroom was already packed, and I was having visual overload spasms from looking around at the beautiful people in their attire: pearls, corsets, coquettish pin-up burlesque, silent movie gorgeousness, and sinister elegant flamboyance.
Pete Bennett exploded onto the stage with his new band, delivering a fire cracker bursting performance with shouty jumping-jack style contagious energy.

Upstairs there was the Casino Room, with blackjack and roulette tables, and the wildest looking variety of creatures, a beautiful blue Smurf girl, dandies, demons and blood thirsty vampires descended from the darkest corners out to play out unscripted horror show.
Back to the stage where Urban Voodoo Machine were amazing alongside Lady Ane Angel performing fire and the gong dance and two drummers showing off their skills in synchronized drumming.

A vicar rocking the giant bass was also present to add to the confusion and consequently at the end of their set the band was mostly writhing on the floor, musically convulsing.

No time to even make a rollie, time is priceless, besides something else is going on behind us, so we quickly made our way to the middle of the ballroom where the dazzling neo-burlesque artist Empress Stah was performing her twisted cabaret and internationally acclaimed chandelier sling routine and amazing aerial acrobatics - sensational sparkly erotic circus. The stripping act culminated with the removal of a strategically placed crystal necklace from her glittery lady garden so to speak.I stood so close underneath her that the body sequins she was adorn with were falling on my hair, like pixie dust.
And I was enchanted.

We had a snoop around the Changing Room, the lavishly decorated boudoir of Madame Mishka, where the stylists who had risen from the dead especially for this night, were on hand to provide the less extravagantly dressed with costumes, ball gowns, corsets, tuxedos, trilbies, top hats, exquisite masks, feathers and wholesome fanciness.

Deviant Aerial's rope performance was awe inspiring air acrobatics, mesmerizing the crane necked audience.

Then we feasted our eyes on more burlesque air shenanigans with a lady on a cute little pony hanging from the ceiling! Then there were also flapper style cabaret dancers, lip synching drag queens and vampire synchronized dancing.

Lost Vagueness pulled out all the stops and the 2200 capacity venue was comfortably packed, so you still had space to swing your scythe or pitchfork around. This was an extravaganza cabaret and burlesque orgy at its best and sleaziest. We were transported into another world full of beauty and glamour, with more than a lashing of twisted decadent horror. It was a visually explosive cocktail of surrealism & "freakiness", executed by scandalously seductive misfits mingling with grotesque zombies and ghouls.

I see you crying into your soup for having missed this wonderland night of debauchery, but all is not lost. Sell your soul {you won't be needing it when you're having this much fun} and get yourself a time machine to experience it for yourself or watch out for the next Lost Vagueness spectacular on NYE.
©Nunuki
photo gallery by Genie

Loop is a new kid on the block offering break beats and funky grooves. Better attended than other first nights I have been recently. If truth be told it felt like you were at some pal’s house party. Good VJ-visuals through out the night and a quality gang of DJs. Notably “Rennie Pilgrem” an old master of the decks. Yeah he’s been around in the break beats scene for years! He was the headline act here.

The overall feeling between the DJs was of sharing and mutual appreciation without any competition usually associated with some nights. Very friendly even for a stranger coming off the street.

Loaded with electrifying energy, the androgynous “Sidetrakka” was full-on with loads of attitude and very entertaining. “Disco Patrick” fresh and innovative as ever, kept my feet glued to the boards with a big smile on my face.
Well now we have to see if Chris and Martin and all the crew carry on this party. It has potential to soar in the break beats arena and make its own statement.

Bit down and funky with eclectic flashes of pop, hints of disco with some electronica created a salad that was served to everyone’s appreciative delight. Cooling down with mates, we sat with our backs against a backdrop of fluffy furry walls in the basement chill out room and in the glow of iridescent white walls of course!
© Le Mufti

Their latest innovation is Planet Angel Rocks - a one-off Sunday party, where the main focus was on live bands, with DJ’s filling in between the live acts. Still; PA residents, U4IC, Matt Therapy, and Dr Fluff got people moving with their more eclectic than usual selection of beats. I remember hearing plenty of ska, and Prodigy tracks.

There were four bands on in total: my faves were Patladjan and Subsource, who played more dance-orientated styles. Patladjan, whose girl singer had a lovely haunting voice, began their set in a very chilled ambient way, slowly building up the speed until the last couple of tracks, which were pretty damn ravey.. Subsource are a fusion of breaks and drum & bass, sometimes supported on the mic by Lady MC. This time, their set was more breaks-orientated, although the dnb tunes and basslines did kick in towards the end.

Other bands on included the headliners Horsebox, who were very indie-rock, and drew a large appreciative crowd (not my cuppa tea tho’), and Crossfader, who were more pop-orientated, with some funny lyrics and onstage patter by the singer Arif. Their other singer also played an impressive bit of baritone clarinet. Impressively, it was their debut gig – the facts that they are all experienced musicians, and have rehearsed intensively throughout the summer showed brilliantly in the tightness of their set.

There were also video projections, showing the bands onstage, as well as some very interesting effects, which went with the music. Plus, the whole thing was being broadcast live on the web.
The crowd there were mainly PA regulars; a very friendly mish mash of hippies and ravers of varying ages and backgrounds. It did take a little while to get going, with the place not really filling up until about 4pm. After that, it was comfortably full

As well as the music, Planet Angel were doing the food: it was all good tasty veggie stuff, available all day.
All this was happening at the Jamm bar on Brixton Road – a nice looking place with a Mediterranean feel to it; all russet tiles near the bars, plus booze that was reasonably priced (unlike PA’s other venue, Hidden).

Jamm has two rooms; one of which was used as a dining and chillout area with relaxing music. A nice touch was the ‘food and entertainment menus’ on each of the tables. Also worth noting is that it’s wheelchair accessible, through a side door.

It was a nice place to be on a Sunday. I do hope they decide to hold this one again sometime.

For more info on Planet Angel parties go to www.planetangel.net

©Minnie Mouse
Photo Gallery
Photos used with permission of Planet Angel. All copyrights reserved.
Glenn Dunwell

There is so much on offer at Synergy. May be there is too much? But that is the Horn of Plenty nature of this event…well this festival. A time to reconnect with people from all over the shop. One after another familiar face passing by as you hustle through the crowd. The vibe was electric especially in the psytrance room where every one gave it all they had and more…

The rest is a blur of sensations for me, coupled with interesting encounters with people I didn’t expect to see. I was missing my girlfriend there but reconnecting with her best mate. That’s what is typical of this massive social gathering. Full of surprises!
I’ve said this before and it is self-evident that this the closest you are going to get to a festival now as the miseries of cold and rainy nights take over those 6am mornings of clubland.

Synergy is an active people forum. People are coming from all over the country and not just London. It is a chance to compare notes about future festies between escapades to the various areas. Or just to reminisce about this year’s happenings. With all that’s on offer it is frankly physically impossible to take it all in over one night. You have the shops, the acoustic rooms showcasing new bands alongside more established outfits.

You have also speakers, poets and acrobats and so on and so on in five sprawling rooms. But the most vivacious of them all is the psytrance room with transcendental beats
The impression I got this time at Synergy was that the “hippy” ethos or style had been dampened down somehow for a formula best suited to a more mainstream crowd.

There was a more basic feel to the rooms and the décor wasn’t as overpoweringly fluffy as it sometimes is. The healing area, usually one of the most beautiful spaces, had been reduced in size to a platform in the last of the Blue rooms with some bleak looking drapes for decor as if an after thought. Pity…

So you have to go back every month, innit! - groan! Too much for my old bones? Well, people don’t need prompting, do they? They’ve already checked the dates for the next Synergy and the merry go round continues to turn…

© Le Mufti
photo gallery

We arrived late afternoon on Friday after a journey of tardy planes, cancelled trains and delayed automobiles and immediately set up camp. There were signs of earlier rain but the day was clearing up nicely in time for the promised sunshine.

After an early dinner à la camping stove, we proceeded to the main festival area to sample the delights on offer. We walked around for a while, taking in the colourful bars such as the Indian-themed Bollywood Bar, complete with shimmering Rajasthani parasols, and the striped “big top” tents housing an eclectic mix of entertainment, such as theatrics, crowd-pulling live bands and comedy acts.

Friday’s final act on the main stage was Massive Attack and I had been looking forward to this for some time. We managed to thread our way through the crowds already gathered and managed to get to what felt like only half a mile from the stage. After three tracks accompanied by an awesome lightshow and a battering from other revellers trying to make room to dance a little, we decided it was time to fight our way out of the crowds, like rugby players leaving the scrum, to comparative space and a long awaited beer.

The former was managed with only a little fuss but the latter unfortunately was impossible.

An alcoholic drink at around midnight? In Ireland? At the Electric Picnic? We discovered that we might as well have been searching for the Holy Grail. This seemed rather hypocritical as the festival had received sponsorship from alcohol producers bringing us both the “Southern Comfort Crawdaddy” stage (New Orleans flavoured jazz, roots etc) and the “Bacardi B-Live” stage (predominantly Latino influenced house) both serving a range of cocktails, up until to the 10pm curfew anyway.