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The Drome - Saturday 11th November 2000

"Ful-On-Fest V"

bunchofcaners hit The Drome on Saturday night. Keith's idea. When I checked out the preview info on the web (links from this very site) I saw the dreaded words - EAR BLEEDING INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH GABBA. Now I see why Keith is interested! Now I'm normally a Paul van Dyk man, poncey euro-trance my bag baby. But I'm intrigued - how on earth do clubbers dance to Gabba? 

So we go. After half an hour wandering around London Bridge, led astray by two guys we meet, Gavin and Adam, we eventually find the Drome. What a great venue! More shops than your average mall. Dark but great lighting. And more casualties lying around at 12.30am than I've seen since the last time I wandered through the West End of San Antonio. I like it already. 

There's lots of side shows - jugglers, aliens, naked women. Well maybe not, but by this point I'm struggling to see straight. A nice lady helps me load my camera film - cheers.

The music is harder than I usually like, but it's ok, and there are moments of utter brilliance - did I detect the soundtrack from Speed in there somewhere? It's a fantastic club, water in the loos a godsend as I've got a hell of a sweat on. More to do with the Dolce & Gabbana t-shirt than the heat. Oh yes - I'm Very over dressed for this one - oops!!

And the Gabba? It's there alright. Shitting Crikey is it there. Well, at least I've done it. Another notch in my bedpost, or should that be another five years knocked off the lifespan of my eardrums?

So all day Sunday we spent rolling around on sofas and generally gibbering and dribbling. Had a good few pints of Miss Stella. She knows how to sort me out. Got home 6pm Sunday, scribbled a bit and went to sleep.

It's taken until now, Wednesday, to face up to the notes I made on Sunday night about the night bunchofcaners spent at The Drome. As I read them now, they appear to be the rantings of a sleep-deprived madman. But I meant it then, and that's ok, so they stand as a true testament to the feeling I had about the night at the time....

I remember two things about last night, or rather two prevailing thoughts that I had last night.

First, if I dance holding my water in my right hand, and dance with my left hand doing the work, I lord all over this dancefloor, and much better than that guy over there. However,  if I hold the water in my left arm, my sloth-like right gives me no skill at all and I look crap - a bit like that guy over there. My conclusion? That guy over there needs to transfer his water to his other hand.

Second. I've been telling people about bunchofcaners tonight. People have been asking what's our aim? What are we trying to do? I'm so completely boxed that my answers have been all over the shop. But now in a moment of clarity brought on by a moment of uplifting trance and fantastic lighting and a guy in an alien robot suit, I realise what the philosophy of bunchofcaners is.

We're here tonight in celebration of my very recent success in work. I've been caning it in work. You see, my definition of caning it, being a caner, is this: Not so much grabbing life by the scruff of the neck, but sprinting at it at such speed that when it pops its ugly head round the corner, you shoulder barge it into a crumpled heap in the corner. We need to go at it in top gear, full pelt. At work, work harder than you did yesterday. Strive to be the best. Make your life at home an idyllic state of bliss. Make your relationship the strongest in all of Christendom. Have the strongest, most positive mental attitude since that very phrase was invented. And above all - when you're out, here, now, in a darkened room, flashy lights, banging tunes, beautiful people; always always push your limits. This is the greatest night of your life, this is the best tune you have ever heard, these people are all here for you, and you, yes YOU my boy, are so so having it tonight.

After writing that on a scrap of paper, I fell asleep, got up Monday morning and was at my desk in work at 7.30am. Like I said.....shoulder barge the motherfunster!