The death of Andrew Weatherall was the first of many massive kicks in the balls we found ourselves on the receiving end of in 2020.
Difficult to even begin to express what he meant to the world, other than to say he was one of the all-time greats, hugely influential, highly inspirational and sorely missed.
When Fabric announced a tribute night with DJs such as David Holmes, Adrian Sherwood and Radioactive Man, I reared up like a horny meerkat.
Turns out there was going to be a Tresor night in Printworks over the Easter weekend also. A plan was forming. Having been initially thwarted in my attempts to buy Printworks tickets, and determined to finally visit the venue before it closed, I resolved to camp out by my computer until they went on sale – scoring tickets to both events.
It also transpired a friend I’d not seen in months had just got a job in London and was moving there the weekend before. So in between events, the plan was to catch up and hang out for a while.
All in all it was shaping up to be quite a lively weekend. Though the goddess Logistica had other ideas.
Don’t Let The Grubby Little Opportunists Get You Down
I arrived in London after a week of hell plus the promise of more agonising work bollocks waiting on my return. This put quite a dampener on the weekend before I’d even departed.
It also turned out my flights would be delayed on both ends, so I arrived late, utterly shattered having to zig-zag my way around multiple stations to get to my room and then on to Fabric
My friend had work obligations, so both events were going to be solo. I was once again Billy No Mates standing in the queue trying to psyche myself up.
Turns out the delays meant I’d already missed both Adrian Sherwood and Radioactive Man, that was a disappointment. I couldn’t find a timetable for the event, so I had no idea who was playing where and no clue of the layout anyway, so I just blundered about for the whole night.
That’s what I always do in Fabric. The place is a fucking labyrinth and no matter how many times I go there I always get lost, especially whenever I go out for a smoke.
Last time I’d been there was around xmas 2021, not long after lockdown, to check out Eats Everything. I got hopelessly lost that night too so this time I decided it was best to just go with the flow and see where the night took me.
Lord Sabre’s Labyrinth
It being a Thursday it was quieter than usual, making it easier to ramble around from room to room, checking out the vibes and getting fucked on rum. Ironically the more fucked I got the easier it was to find the smoking area.
Not many opportunities for banter so I spent the whole night dancing and people watching.
The other attendees were a somewhat diverse bunch, ranging from your typical kiddies on their first pill being hauled out limp by security (it wouldn’t be a night at Fabric without seeing that at least once) to creaky old fossils who’d come to pay their respects while trying to figure out why their feet can’t move in time with the music anymore.
I actually felt decidedly average, age-wise.
It’s fair to say the weekend had gotten off to a rough start and, though I enjoyed some of the tunes, the whole affair was bittersweet since the guest of honour wasn’t in attendance.
The Flight Path Estate Hotel
I came too excruciatingly hungover with no idea where I was.
Oh right, hotel room – beep! beep! beep! – 10am checkout… dammit to hell…
I’d not had anything to drink since new years, so it was a fairly pulverising experience.
Mission parameters loading…
1. Get your shit together
2. Have a shower
3. Get your ass to Croydon
Why Croydon? Well, it was Easter weekend, right? And I sure as hell wasn’t paying London prices for the whole long weekend… cheaper to stay a couple of nights in Croydon (separate hotels) in between, this was all booked before I’d planned on meeting my friend though.
Hence the reason I spent the next couple of days zig-zagging about between London and Croydon and lugging my heavy backpack from one tube station to the next.
For my last night in London I’d booked a place that I thought was near to the event. But it wasn’t really.
Plus, I’d been fooled into thinking I was going to a hotel that turned out to be just a house. A house that was impossible to find and I needed to get a door code from a guy on the phone who was impossible to comprehend.
Another swing and a miss from Booking.com.
Fail We May…
I got into my room an hour after arriving before dumping my bag and sprinting out the door to get to try get to the event before final entry. I was just lucky enough to get a cab only to arrive at the venue realising I’d left my cigarettes in the room – fuck!
At least I had my Tresor t-shirt.
It was a t-shirt I’d bought on my last trip to Tresor. Having danced myself into a sweaty stupor for hours on end I didn’t fancy going out into the cold German morning with a wet t-shirt on. So I bought a new one. I later figured it was just the thing to pack for Printworks on the day.
Shoutouts to:
• Ze Germans who applauded me for wearing “ze propa Berlin shirt”
• The andere randomers who all took pity on me and gave me cigarettes that night.
As with Fabric, I arrived late with no idea where I was going, who was on and where.
Despite having spent 50% of my time in London thusfar in subterranean structures, I made my way to a sweaty basement just in time to catch the tail end of Hector Oaks (I think).
This was followed by some pretty dark and dingy dubstep type stuff which I was enjoying but all the while going, wait, this isn’t Stingray is it?
Trying to get footage of Printworks is pointless, it’s dark most the time, the lights strobe on occasion and the acoustics make the audio distorted – but hey, dark and distorted’s just how I like it.
The narrow crowded basement prompted me to adopt snake style. Snake style dancing consists of lots of slithery footwork, sidewinding around people, serpentine hand movements and the occasional hissy fit when people bump into me and break my flow.
Didn’t take long to realise this definitely isn’t Stingray and I’m caught between staying and enjoying the tunes or catching the last bit of Stingray so I head up to the main mezzanine and go full king cobra.
After that was FJAAK, near’s I can recall, who I also enjoyed for a while before heading back down to the basement to catch some Surgeon.
FYI my timetable of events might be mixed up slightly but for sure I know that it was Jeff Mills to finish and I was pretty fucked by that point. Seriously, I’d been hiking the length and breadth of London for days on end with a big heavy bastard bag and little to no sleep, so Jeff Mills was a mission, no word of a lie.
Later, dripping with sweat once more, I decided – as with Tresor – it was time for a change of clothing so I bought myself a Printworks hoodie like a proper techno tourist before heading back to my shitty room to rest my feet, chain smoke and set my alarm for the next morning’s flight.
Coexist
It’s sad this venue is closing as it’s easily one of the most impressive venues I’ve ever been to. I’m happy that I got a chance to experience it and my choice of event was spot-on because, given its vast industrial aesthetics, the venue fitted the Tresor roster perfectly.
I’m also happy that I at least got a chance to pay my respects to the Guv, even if I spent most of the night blundering about trying to figure out what DJ was playing and how to get back to the smoking area.
Lastly, I’m also happy to happy to finally not have to carry this backpack around and rest my concrete-pummelled feet. Having been delayed for hours at the airport I splurged on a pair of Air Maxes which I’m very looking forward to field testing at my next techno event. Been a while since I’ve been to Berlin actually…🤔