A journey back in time

On November 21, 2014July 26, 2015 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, Music, People you may have heard of, The Cuban BrothersLeave a comment

Apparently some people count sheep to help them get to sleep (really?) but the other night found me counting the number of times I’ve seen The Cuban Brothers before dozing off.

I could add up H&M designer collaborations I’d attended I suppose, but that would probably only go to five or six. Los Hermanos Cubanos however are a different matter.

“You must have seen them at least 20 times!” Van exclaimed over a pre-birthday dinner in South London. “No way!” I replied. “The first time was a Sunday Best party at S’Estanyol beach in Ibiza in 2004. Since then maybe once a year?” “Rubbish! I don’t believe you” she said.

A smokily scented night in Brixton, November 2014: Less threatening coming out of the tube, someone even brushed past me and said: ‘Sorry.’ More Starbucks than Iceland – although I was pleased to see Iceland still had prime position on the high street next to ‘King of Trainers’. “Let’s go to the Village” Foxy said. “It’s all chi chi – kind of one up from street food.”

Three souped up jalopies drove slowly by – the heavy booming of the bass so loud that the pavement vibrated. “That hasn’t changed – thank God” said Foxy.

The old market on Coldharbour lane now houses a myriad of cutesy restaurants, bars, hairdressers, vintage shops – all brimming over with gentrified Brixtonians.

We had a cocktail whilst inadvertently crashing someone’s 30th birthday party.

A lengthy queue to the venue for our evening’s entertainment had us surrounded by the usual plethora of beards and a lady regaling her companions with stories of the magnificence of Dorset. “Looks like a late one Foxy.” “Yeah, I reckon they won’t be on until 11.30pm tops.” “Nah, 11pm I’d say” I replied.

Several beer bucket challenges later we stood before the stage. It was 12.30pm. Kenny ‘the bastard’ was doing his stuff as Archerio and Miguel warmed up at the side of the stage.” Our new Japanese friends next to us were practically asleep. Eager twenty-somethings craned their necks to see more of Domenico. Miss Dorset pushed and shoved with elbows that denoted many a triumphant sale bargain.

I turned over in bed, closed my eyes and searched through the venues in my mind. The ICA, Carphone Warehouse Ball at Alexandra Palace, Bestival 2005 (or was it earlier?), Koko in Camden… I got to 15. I tried to find the 16th, I knew there was one, but I was sleepy. In the favoured expression of Miguel Mantovani It was time to just ‘allow it.’

*1st two photos from ‘Ibiza Spotlight’

Getting my shorts on

On May 25, 2014March 30, 2015 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, Music, Travel/vacationsLeave a comment

‘Home’ again for the fifth time to Club Med in Portugal (www.clubmed.co.uk).

I woke early – 8am – for holiday time. But, that’s what happens here. The energy surges when you realise there’s much to be accomplished from pilates and golf to the spa and the Crazy Signs.

Ah yes, the Crazy Signs. It’s been a year and a half since I last partook. I wondered how I’d feel about them now. Would the sound of the theme tune ‘Madison’ get me going again, even though I consider myself somewhat more sedate these days? I’d have to wait and see. For now though, aqua gym provided a spectacle in the sunshine with the music steadily getting louder.

It could only be a matter of moments before the Chef de Village appeared.

I wandered into lunch. There he was, resplendent in vibrant green Bermuda shorts with a brilliant white shirt and an equally sharp looking team of G.O.s around him. I recognised him from a holiday at Club Med, Beldi in 2006. Greying hair now with an even deeper tan, he looked reassuringly in control of the situation.

A snooze and beach session later, I showered and got ready for the evening.

It was hard not to be gripped by the post-dinner show – Indiana Jones – especially since I knew the Crazy Signs followed and I was curious to know how I’d react.

Post Indiana finding the Ark of the Convenant, the nightclub beckoned. “Have you got the ‘new’ Michael Jackson?” I asked the DJ. “Sorry, non, but I’ll get it for you – come on Monday evening and I’ll have it” he replied.

I held tight and waited for the familiar music to start. The Responsable Animation took the stage as a different tune came on. I lined up anyway – but hey, I was out of the loop! I went with my instincts and followed the lead. It was all new! Things had changed since I last crazy signed.

The third song came on – another one I thought I didn’t know – but wait a second maybe I did… “Avancez! Avancez!” David commanded from the stage. “It’s easy, it’s easy!” or did he say, “It’s cheesy, it’s cheesy?” Either way we went for it. “Step to the right, step to the left, take it back one time. Right leg! Left leg! Jump!”

Turned out, it was just as much fun as it has always been.

David and Cathy

On September 28, 2013December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Ibiza, MusicLeave a comment

Heading home around 8.30pm for yet another night in with a bag of spinach in hand to complete dinner and the Larry Sanders show downloaded for watching, I was quite looking forward to my quiet evening.

The phone rang. ‘S, can you be by the gate in ten minutes? We’re all going out to dinner at Can Curreu; Patrick’s coming by to pick you up’ said my friend P. Could I be by the gate: Does the Pope have a balcony?! ‘You bet I can, at this rate I may as well be at home in London sitting on the sofa watching ‘Keeping up with the Kardasians!’ I replied.

A lightning change into my highest heels and swishy earrings and I was ready for a night out in Ibiza. Patrick and Fifi turned up and we were off and running.

Dinner was a delightful affair; delicate morsels of risotto, Tuna carpaccio and a hunk of fillet beef that saw me asking for a doggy bag to take what I couldn’t manage home.

As we ate dessert, talk turned to going ‘out out’. P disappeared as the discussion heated up. At one point I felt we might all be ‘going on’ but it was a false alarm. ‘Here you are’ said P, handing me a card with the owner of the restaurant’s name on. ‘They don’t think you’ll get in tonight, it’s the closing party of ‘F*** ME I’M FAMOUS! with David Guetta at Pacha’. He had a twinkle in his eye as he said it. I looked at him and smiled: ‘You know that’s like a red rag to a bull’ I said.

I went to bed at midnight after a jolly time with my friends and set the alarm for 2.30am. I woke at 2am. Would I go, would I not go? I sat on the edge of the bed. I slipped my shoes on. I picked up my dress. I located my earrings. I stood up.

Minutes later it felt like someone else was walking in my 6” heels and down the hill to step into a taxi. Arriving at Pacha some 20 minutes later, I went to the VIP entrance and flashed my card. ‘No, you need to go to the other entrance and speak to Maurizio’. Maurizio waved me through and I suddenly realised where everyone in Ibiza was….. here!!

I never witnessed such a crowd in this not overly big club before. I found a spot and stood routed to it. At 3.30am David appeared with a grin that was totally infectious. I looked around me, no one could stop smiling. He brought the house down with accessible tunes, glow sticks, big luminous hands, red hearts and flashing headbands that turned Pacha into a heart warming waving sea of multi coloured neon.

Cathy appeared to stand by her man, the Pacha dancers hit the swings and the night was complete. People sang along to ‘Titanium’ and various other mega hits. And, all the time David beamed at us. What a pro. What a night. How lucky was I.

Legacy

On July 7, 2013December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, London, Music, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

I walked home. I like doing that sometimes in London after a night out. Tonight was special: Balmy and still in my shorts, I marvelled that summer really was here.

‘There’s no place quite like this country at this time of the year’ Mick said to the Hyde Park crowd half way into the Stones’ gig. And he should know, he’s 70 this week and he’s been around. ‘Was anyone else here in 1969 for the last one?’ he shouted. A gentle roar went up from the crush that was front of the park stage for the first time in 44 years to see them in their altogether. ‘Well, welcome back, nice to see you again!’ A delicate touch Mick – but then this was full of delicate touches and so subtle that you didn’t even realise you were there, witnessing what you were witnessing. ‘I’m loving this set they’ve given us’ he continued. ‘It’s like a cross between Wimbledon and a pantomime.

Last night at leaving drinks, I checked the Juanometer. ‘Do you think we should get there for 12pm when the gates open, or leave it until a bit later – like 5pm? I know you’re going to have the right solution – you always do’ I said to my soon to be ex-colleague just departing to explore other territories and work opportunities. ‘Well, how much do you like them? If you really love them, then yes, you need to be there at 12. For me personally if Coldplay were performing I’d be there before the gates opened’. I thought about that. ‘You’re right as usual. I do like the Stones, but you’ve given me the answer’.

I texted Foxy. ‘It’s going to be scorchio tomorrow, let’s meet at 4?’ She agreed and it was settled.

As usual on an outing of this nature and significance, Foxy and I try to get a decent view. ‘Just keep walking.’ I said as we immersed ourselves in a crowd where the average age was 50 and remants of the 60’s were all around us in one form or another. ‘Where are people getting all this beer? I think I’d better go and look for food and drink before things start getting serious’.

Heading backwards into the fray again I found myself perusing the food stalls. Queues were aplenty and the beer tents were at least 20 people deep in front. I headed back to the main gate and fought my way to the bar to get a couple of drinks. Armed with those I queued for food – and half an hour later found myself with two haloumi foccacias in hand ready to find my friend again.

Back at the main stage, the crowd had shifted forward. The sun was beginning to set and the familiar chords of ‘Start me up’ blasted out.

There are no words really. Well, maybe a few: Brilliant, professional, slick. But the main one is ‘innate’. Seeing The Stones is not like seeing any other band. Viewing them like another would be to deny what really is pure DNA – for both them and us. The songs and this band are in your blood, an intrinsic feature of the landscape that is your life. Seeing them made flesh as it were, in front of your very eyes, is believing but unbelievable at the same time.

When the unmistakeable first few notes of ‘Satisfaction’ rang out in the encore, Keith smiled his white rakish grin, Mick continued to prance around in his gold lame shirt singing without a note out of place, Ronnie showed us what muscles were made of, and Charlie – steadfast Charlie – delivered the drums. Just as it should be, just as we know it is.

Yeah Baby

On July 16, 2012December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Ibiza, MusicLeave a comment

It’s been a while since I saw Le Sexy Beast, and Saturday found me on a flight to Ibiza determined to ‘make his acquaintance’ once more that night at Pacha. Did Bob still have it, I wondered, and more importantly – how was his hair these days?

Successfully boarding my Ryanair flight without recourse to unpacking my luggage or being charged extra for anything, I was delighted, once airbourne to be given a chance to read their new magazine. Very slick – without losing any of that quintessential Ryanairness; the streetwise attitude, the smattering of typos and the friendly ‘I’m your best mate’ chat crossed with a knack of being written like the authors have just learnt English and are still learning..

It’s a heady mixture. But a seedling of fondness for that most ubiquitous of airlines was planted as I flicked through, for on practically every other page there was an advert for some Irish business or other: Just when the Emerald Isle needs it most, Mr O’Leary puts his money where his heart is.

At 2.30am I found myself in Pacha, pinned up against a wall amongst the thousands of people who had come to hear Dimitri from Paris and Mr Sinclar ply their trade. Dancing was tough given the limited space but a gold sequinned top will always convey you mean business.

Dimitri, with a Brains from Thunderbirds look, was on the decks. His name indicates his nationality – and the playlist did too with a not insignificant smattering of some French tracks including Daft Punk. The recession seems to be doing strangely patriotic things to people, I thought.

A sudden flury on the balcony behind him caused a ripple of excitement through the already buoyant crowd. I looked up. All I could see was the back of someone with long locks, the supplest leather jacket known to man and flashbulbs popping aplenty.

At exactly 4am, Bob Sinclar turned around to face the crowd from on high and descended the small flight of stairs to the DJ booth, kissed Dimitri four times, shrugged off his jacket and literally rolled up his sleeves.

He went heavy on the tunes to satisfy a young audience with a need to worship rather than dance, his face bent towards the decks intent on the job in hand.

Something had changed – was it me, or Bob? Even now, from my birds eye view and unlimited VIP dance space at 5am, something failed to ignite. Was I the only one who wanted/craved a delicacy of touch, some genuine love and feeling through the music? I danced on regardless.

At precisely 7am, Bob threw his hands up in the air, put on his luxe leather jacket and ascended the steps. A few people called for more… but I knew it was time to go home.