I’m appalled. In so many ways. I ‘made’ this.
It’s 1991. I’m one of two guys DJing at a midweek indie night in Brighton, East Sussex, England. The other guy plays the rock, I play anything else. That makes the grungers and grebos leave the dancefloor.
I know I played the Prodigy and Public Enemy. Chances are I had Aphex in my carrier bag (as Brighton is where I first bought him). Suspicions are that I rarely played him, such was the angry/unhappy/unsure response from the punters.
But memories are few and far between.
Having dropped out of university, unable to sign on and incapable of doing anything other than lying in a bath full of tepid water, rolling and listening to the Orb‘s ‘A Huge…‘ on an auto-playing Dansette, the £25 this gig paid was a life-line.
I sometimes went dancing with friends. Courtney Love rolled around on the floor of the stage of the Zap Club when Hole supported Mudhoney. I heard Choci, Rev and Harvey every month there when the Tonka sound system came to town. I was 19; a poor, permanently stoned and very pink (from all that bathing) whippet. A fool but a happy one.
The Underground venue was the cellar of a building on Grand Parade, not far from Brighton’s promenade.
If they still make Letraset, perhaps I need to re-invest.