Sock Free Hideaway

SONGS THEY NEVER PLAY ON THE RADIO 

14. LUVDUP : TOP ONE, SORTED 

PART 1

CLUB REUNIONS; only ever tried them once on a Luvdup Sunday boat party in 2009, and it was odd. The internet had hoodwinked me into thinking time had stood still. It hadn't, of course.

A reunion where you barely recognize anybody is tough enough, but when you're also three quarters of the way through proof-reading a final's dissertation that is due in on the Tuesday, it's plain weird. To compound my problems, Mark actually felt sorry for me and invited me to an after after-party where panic was already setting in.

I hadn't been out in over 6 months and blood was pouring out of my big hooter all over some poor woman's expensive designer kitchen fish-tank. And tenner. A kitchen I spent New Year's Eve 1997 partying in, apparently. 

I was actually quoting passages of my dissertation out loud at one point to help me memorise my ideas, so got some very strange looks.

I made a truly bad impression as per usual and I didn't make it home until Monday evening in a state of near senselessness. I set my alarm at stupid o'clock on the Tuesday and attempted to proofread it and post it off. I posted it off. Needless to say, I've not been to one since. 

When I first met Adrian, he was impossibly effete and aloof, but a very sound DJ. I was a scruff and a fish out of water and he was making D.S.K and Colonel Abrahams really sing, so had every right to ignore me. As unfriendly as he was towards me, Mark was utterly vivacious. He wore the brand tee with tight sweatpants and never walked past without making spirited conversation.   

He was the first to twig that I was out clubbing with my kid sister a lot. She knew what everyone was wearing, and I sometimes knew what was being played. The pain-staking effort that went into decking out the Venue with love hearts, goodie-bag treats, and fruit, every week, was mighty impressive. The suspect PA's less so. The music policy was also bonkers.

The infamous Like A Prayer acapella that got mixed twice really created a moment. I'd wake up after about 4 hours sleep with a daft smile on my face and face work because of it. HI-NRG classics pumped out alongside the 3 Beat piano monster Feel It and there were giddy, whirling, smiling faces everywhere. The Hip-House call to arms C'mon N Shake Yer Butts created even more dancefloor mayhem. 

However, they also broke in tunes with less momentum. The gorgeous Who Needs Enemies and the subtly anthemic Funkatarium spring to mind. Another quasi-religious experience was had when they spun Undercover of the Night's cheeky dub. Hard to believe a few doors down folk were skulking around a moody Hacienda. 

PART 2

LUVDUP'S MEMBERSHIP policy was born out of necessity and not elitism, as all this euphoria took place against a backdrop of escalating gun-crime.

This became much more apparent to me once the club doors were shut firm a few years later and gangs openly moved into the Conservatory and Isobar to force worming tablets down my neck at a tenner a throw. 

The same Cheetham Hill gang member with his weathered face and a possibly imaginary stun-gun had me over twice in a matter of weeks and didn't even recognize me the second time.  

Luckily, there were still some shenanigans to be had in the time between. We had a great laugh when they took over Liberty's for a short run called Holidays in the Sun. Instant Replay, Even Better than the Real Thing, and Shine On have never sounded better. Flake-Out at Robinski's was a trek for me, but I thoroughly enjoyed my one night there. It was a precursor for many a night to come. I'd been in a floatation tank but not a chill-out night before, and I loved it. 

When they moved to the No 1 club with their night Hell, I had very high expectations, but it was half-empty and musically fell short. It felt like hell pretending to enjoy their overloaded musical concoctions that were more overground Euro-house than underground. I think it was short-lived.   

They were obviously acutely aware of their strengths and weaknesses, as they had the good sense to move into both floors of the Paradise Factory with their next venture, Jolly Roger. 

What made me a regular there was the wonderful upstairs room called the Crow's Nest that was laid out with mattresses and played anything non-house. The queue was also great fun with a warm camaraderie and a delightfully friendly bouncer. That I had to queue to inhabit a half-empty upstairs space was a bit rich, and I rarely saw my kid sister or the folk I'd been bantering with again. 

The music downstairs was bloody awful, but upstairs McCready and Moonboots were phenomenal selectors, making staples of I'm Only Sleeping, On a Sunday and the Rockford Files theme and saving the night for me. They really brought the best out of their guest DJ's.  I've never seen Weatherall have as much fun or Justin play so many winners. Dub Symphony Higher than the Sun followed by Sunday Morning was just sheer bliss. Stepping Stone into Rise sounded genius. 

When Mark E Smith arrived pissed with a carrier bag of records, everybody stepped back. Well, everyone except Mark, who patiently helped him cue up his awful records. It was without doubt the funniest thing I've seen whilst trying not to laugh. Something was lost when the mixed scene I enjoyed so much became top heavy with less open-minded students. Musically, something was also lost on the mixed scene, too. It's a crying shame that there wasn't a night to bridge those divides again. 

Despite staying away from Home and Code where their takeover continued apace, I shared some amazing sessions with Mark thanks to my friendship with Baldie and he turned me onto Spaghetti Westerns and Nick Drake. He turned me off the studio when he played me some God awful piano tune in the making, but he was always super fun to be around. 

I recall clean forgetting Adrian was one of Vinyl Exchange's original employees when I over excitedly played him my Electric Prunes LP in the summer of 98 just prior to leaving South Manchester. I'd discovered that some shady deal over Club Code had cost him and Mark 35k, which seemed like a fortune back then. Still does. They'd sorted it within a year, which explains how big their brand was at the time.  

My abiding memory of Luvdup was my mate's Thursday night in Dino's in the summer of 94. I'm in the backroom playing to nobody and they're setting up for the following night.

Not Adrian and Mark, but the Luvdup juniors. At that point I thought 'God help us.'