Groove Armada: Letter from America
Andy from Groove Armada tells us about their recent US tour.
We arrived in Miami, the Friday of the Winter Music Conference weekend, without clothes or tunes. In fact, we'd only just made it out of Heathrow Terminal 5 ourselves. This put an end to plans to go straight out to a couple of parties, and meant that Saturday morning was spent buying socks, toothpaste and trying to find t-shirts that didn't say “Miami - Spring Break - Yeah!”
That afternoon, we stood in the blazing heat of the Radio One pool party. It was a combination of legs, bikinis and red faced Brits getting a bit of a sweat on. From an aerial view, you'd see that Pete Tong's DJ booth was right in between the Remix Hotel dance floor on one side, and the Shelbourne Hotel on the other. This was appropriate given that at Remix, the music was hard, minimal or digital, and at the Shelbourne, there was a Pacha party, Def Jam, the classic U.S. house sound. With Radio One’s guests being everyone from Roger Sanchez to Justice, they brought the two almost unconnected arms of the American dance scene together, if only for a couple of hours. We had an on-air chat with Kissy Sell Out who, as a roving reporter away from the shaded protection of the booth, was already looking like a man in need of some aftersun, a parasol and a beer.
Later, down at the waterfront, I was interviewed regarding the Cafe Mambo compilation I have underway. It was difficult because right behind the interviewer as they were filming it was a get together of some kind of local society. To join, you apparently needed to be large and have a small white dog. Having only just kept a straight face throughout, it was time to get downloading, editing and burning CDs. It was our own party that evening and there was no indication that the luggage and tunes would arrive anytime soon…
I picked up some bruises that night. The Crystal Method boys were in and around the DJ booth, creating chaos, punching the air, and often catching me in the process! In fact the party ended when they moved from being IN the DJ booth to ON it. Which gave us time to go and check out the Fools Gold party and DJ Diplo, who was rocking it. The only problems came when it was time for his partner to stick a few tunes on. I don't think he could see much - certainly walking was looking difficult - so the upshot was a few moments of confused silence before things carried on again.
The following night, we were very well looked after by the Swedish House Mafia. They laid on a private room, with unlimited vodka and fine views of the lasers. A few hours alternating between there and the dancefloor (mainly when they played that track 'Be' that Angello has done with Laidback Luke - it's a big tune) and then it was time to go to NYC.
I love New York. Until 2001, we were residents at Twilo, a club that was one of the many things Mayor Guilliani closed down. Those monthly trips were special and always rounded off with a visit to the magnificent A1 Records store and a slice of Ray’s pizza. We've been away for a long time, and it was good to be back. The return to the U.S. is because we're finally on a proper label - Strictly Rhythm. It took 10 years for our old company to find the time, between talking with Britney and Justin, to sign the piece of paper to let us go, but we got there in the end. So, in the company of Mr Strictly, otherwise known as George Hess, or 'Hess' as he calls himself, we went to work around the town’s radio stations and magazines.
Our radio experience paid off. Producers described us as ‘naturals’; we shook hands, took pictures and smiled a lot. We finished up with a sit down dinner for various industry people, hosted by Mark Finklestein, the founder and owner of Strictly - he put out the first records by Morales, Morillo, Louis Vega, Armand Van Helden - everyone really. It came as a surprise to find that he couldn't tell you what any one of them sounded like. He never listened to them.
Finally, we arrived at Cielo, always talked about as a top spot in NY these days. It's a place made for the classic U.S. house sound. A Barcelona friend of mine, Pete Sung, played a deep and groovy warm-up. The bass there is serious; you could run the club from the monitor system in the booth. For the next 3 hours, you'd never have known it was a Tuesday night. The place was jumping, and Jamie (our tour manager and the '5th Beatle' in GA terms) hosted a popular 'in-booth' bar service. As often happens, this continued afterwards until all of a sudden, the sun came up.
So after a half hour lie down, shower and a bagel, we got on a flight to Toronto. The last time we were there, we did a TV interview at the top of the CN Tower, which at that time was the tallest building in the world. There's a section of the floor made of glass, which for someone like Tom who suffers from vertigo is pretty much the definition of hell on earth. But they were insistent that this is where the interview had to be. So I always remember Tom sliding across the glass, unable to stand and in fear of his life. This time, it's an in and out DJ performance at the Social. It's always a good sign when people are outside offering 200 dollars for a ticket. Others had driven for hours across country. Inside, it was frenzied - small, dark, and very loud. The booth became a dancefloor and drinks went everywhere, while flash bulbs and raised hands came from all angles.
Then it was time to go to the world's biggest shopping mall. Four and a half hours from Toronto, across thousands of miles of fields divided into equal rectangles, Edmonton's showpiece is a mall which includes a rollercoaster and a beach. We warmed up for the gig at Yannis Greek restaurant. Keeping the restaurant manager company were a few generations of her family smiling out from whitewashed houses in life-sized paintings on the wall. Somehow word got around, and before long we were signing CD’s and having shots with the staff. Three days without sleep was starting to take its toll…
Back at the hotel sorting records out, systems shut down, which meant setting off for the mall having woken up from half an hour of very deep sleep. The dressing room was full of local promoters and friends who seemed to have got together to put the gig on. With still no word on our luggage, we'd each picked up the first jacket we could find as it was freezing from New York onwards. Tom's was a knee length raincoat, which meant he walked in looking like a dishevelled cross between Jose Mourinho and Inspector Cluso. The club was big - shopping mall sized in fact - but you couldn't knock the enthusiasm and we certainly got the place moving. Afterwards in the car park, there were pictures being taken and flyers being signed. In the middle of it all I saw a girl in floods of tears and asked her what was wrong, "I'm just so happy you're here" she said. Ahhh.
After the club, we went back into town and got taken to an 'after hours' on the way to the hotel. It was an odd setup; a large concrete bunker big enough for 400 or so people, with full-on music, but only 10 - 12 people in it. The added twist was that you couldn't buy alcohol. Nowhere can sell it after 2am. So the bar served Red Bull, and the idea was to drink a bit of that then add in vodka from the small bottles that everyone smuggled in. I didn't stay too long.
Another couple of hours lying down, then it was off to San Francisco. It's hard when the crucial rest gap between plane and nightclub is filled with radio work. But it's got to be done, so we went down to Energy 92.7, had a chat and did a few 'drops'. A drop is when you say "Hi this is Andy, this is Tom, we're Groove Armada, and you’re listening to the sick mix at six" or something. After that, we found an amazing art deco restaurant with giant squid chandeliers. Then it was club time, and another great party. It was a small place, with the decks right in the crowd, and 4 very large stacks of speakers. It got quite wild in there. Once again, some enthusiastic locals persuaded us to go for a drink at an after hours place. I walked in to a dark, cramped room with a small Russian man standing by the bar, accompanied by a bottle of vodka almost as big as him. "Have a drink with a man who's getting divorced tomorrow" he said, pouring me a shot. Then there was another one, and another, while he told me more of his problems in detail.
The flight to LA next morning was first thing. Fatigue was reaching extreme levels. It was an early flight because we were doing an early evening gig in the grounds of the town hall. It sounded an unlikely spot for a top night. We got down there early, around seven, to do some press. It was cold, the wind was blowing, and people stood around in big coats, looking angrily at the stage. We sat in a caravan, between the police department and the department of justice, wondering how we ended up there.
And then everything changed. Night fell, the wind dropped and the setting was spectacular - no one has ever done a gig there before. In front of the iconic LA city hall, right at the top of the steps, was a DJ booth. A huge soundsystem hung either side of it, and at the bottom of the steps two and a half thousand people waited, with hundreds more trying to get in. We took to the stage and a huge cheer went up. From that moment, it was controlled chaos. Eventually the control broke down and there was a pitch invasion. Out of nowhere, the barricades went down and crowds thronged up the steps, until we were completely surrounded by jostling dancers and outstretched hands. Police and fire marshals gathered and talked into their walkie talkies. Finally the promoter fought her way through to explain that if we didn't get a message out to clear the steps, we would be shut down. Drawing on two nights of experience as a bingo caller, I got on the microphone and the night continued. It was quite a feeling to bring the music I'd first heard in warehouses and parties in and around Leeds right to the heart of LA government property. I wondered if anyone was up there behind the town hall windows when two and a half thousand people sang along to "mother fuckers gonna turn up the pressure".
As we left the hotel, there was a management conference arriving. For reasons best known to themselves, they'd employed a very nice girl to hold up a welcome sign which said "So you say you want a revolution". As middle managers arrived in their best suits, it looked to me like that was the last thing they wanted. The night before at the town hall however, might be as close as LA gets for a long while.
Published: 11/04/2008
