We’ve
spoken about our love for the
Shipping Forecast before, the last time being
completely seduced by the throbbing grooves delivered by one Berlin ex-pat when
Steffi caressed our ears back on the
August Bank Holiday. Now, five months
later and a good few degrees colder on the thermostat, we were once again drawn
to the dark basement beneath a boozer. History repeating, the lure of a dance
music dynamo eschewing their homeland for residence in the mighty German
captial proved the deal breaker.
That’s
because DT has decided to swerve the cold and cuddle up to the warm clutches of
Discoteca Poca and
Ewan Pearson for the sharpest of winter pick-me-ups. After a
barren rave free period of four weeks, Liverpool finally got the shot in the
arm of house goodness it needed with DP’s first instalment of 2012. Already
grabbing attention across the city, the clubnight has brought
Riotous Rockers,
Hercules and Love Affair’s Kim Anne Foxmann and, most triumphantly of all,
Andrew Weatherall to their little rave embattlement nestled underneath the
barrels of IPA and Stout. But there was a consensus amongst many that this
could be their best night yet.
When
we arrive
James Rand is knocking out the beats, the
Chibuku resident and former
sparring partner of promoter Mr Paul who has slowly moved away from the electro
heavy sounds that initially characterised him to a more house focused vibe.
However the dark EBM influences from his past still permeate the music, lending
an edgy clinical air to the shuffling grooves bursting out of the speakers.
It’s
this ambiguity which gifts Rand a unique focus, making for a warm-up set that
jerks and spits, constantly changing direction and building the atmosphere. The
same can be said for his dancing, which defies logic at times with his angular
manoeuvres and flailing arms. But DJs are judged on how they make others pop
rather than themselves (this reviewer is equally guilty for silly sashaying)
and as beginning sets go it’s a near flawless offering, a particularly
rambunctious moment when the buzzing hornets of
Claude vonStroke’s re-edit of
Pocket 808’s ‘Warpaint’ filled the room.
He
soon hands the reins to the aforementioned Mr Paul, who cranks up the energy
with a set that bridges the gap between warm-up and headliner. Pulsating
perfectly, it sidesteps between throbbing filtered house to more ferocious
percussive joints, the swing on
Flashmob’s chi-town homage
‘Brick House’
emblematic of the raw funk he favours. Then when MVP’s ‘Music’ fills the air
with its opining chords and metallic effects it’s all about jacking it off; in
the house sense rather than Collymore in a car-park. The crowd, nestled nicely
in that delightful capacity balance between atmosphere and comfort, respond
with gleeful abandon.
But
as popular as the pair is in the city, they aren’t the main reason people have
arrived tonight; that honour falls to a man named
Ewan. And when he arrives to
the decks you quickly begin to understand why. Tearing through a set that leans
on the harder sounds of modern European house music, he drops classic nouveau
acid house such as
Panash’s‘Jack 2 Jack’ side by side with Detroit’s darker
side;
Robert Hood’s ‘
Baby, Baby’ making an appearance later on.
But
the last track hints at the eurphoric pop he has become also synonymous with
(his production credits include
Gwen Stefani, Delphic and
Goldfrapp after all),
the beautiful stabs of the Rapture’s ‘How deep is your love’ coursing through
the sweat drenched throng. It rounds off a thoroughly entertaining evening, and
a masterclass in what intimate clubbing should be all about.