Bracknell
14 October 2023
Great to chat and peruse the exciting merchandise on offer at Buried Treasure tenth birthday bash prices. Between DJs, compère Dolly Dolly’s surreal poetry fills the space with his wicked sense of humour. When he wasn’t artistically slagging off the joys of Bracknell, he was getting romantically attached to various others in “Bring Me…”, his words skip out lucid, sink deep, conjoin to explode in scribbled reason (his Antimacassar CD comes highly recommended).
Now, a lot of dance music leaves me a bit nonplussed, but Buried Treasure always seem to deliver, and by midnight, label honcho
Alan Gubby smashed it
straight into the fun zone with some roster rainbows.
The jivering production line that is
Magnetic Cartridge Quartet‘s “Polykicks B” polythene-squishing into your skull with its bristled creaminess. Followed by fresh label discovery
Bobby Freex (look out for his
Elephant’s Breath CD next year) who gets a look-in with a remix of his “Weed Check”, its mutated
disco dub-bubbles biting on a deep bass banter cushioned wobble board as the artist’s block coloured paintings splash the screen’s skin.
Then “No More Shadows” by Zyklus hits home. A boomtastic push along a sexy dual carriageway zoom, schism-skating, space-chasing its own tail as the on-screen kleptomania tardis-teases your head — excellent visuals artfully magpied over the years by Alan. The sound was intense, full of dreamy melody and breath-taking plunges that were probably dislodging the concrete of the multi-story car park above.
Potential damage that
Penal Chic’s jackbooted industrial thump totally adds to, a lovely
Front 242 /
Throbbing Gristle-esque reverberation that gives me the closed-eye grins. Its
brutalist brilliance toothpaste-tubed in these radiant slivers that waterfall into a mirroring light as a flicker-fairy of architectural horrors superimpose the screen in urban greys.
“Ye Le Le” by
Spiritual South and
Amampondo, a
birthday comp standout that is tonight’s
complete banger. A definite show stealer, whose slamming tribals get me flinging myself around like a car showroom balloon scarecrow. Alan’s hands twists in some extra spandex curveballs that set my legs all
Elvis Presley. I really hope there’s an album’s worth of this in the not-too distant future.
A show of force that the sizzle of “Thoth Focus” rides out on. Plucked from
Language Field’s
Fearful Symmetry album (one of the label’s 2023 jewels), here transformed into a
shimmer-shanty-staple-gunned-checkout joy. Its elasticated candour accompanied by the morphic disturbance of that TV-headed artwork. Finale fireworks that totally deserved the massive applause it received.
Picking up the entertainment baton Alan’s son (who goes by the DJ name of
Sideshow) finishes the night off with some turnable wizardry. A weirded-out dubstep jibber-jabber full of phantoms, trumpet heralds and
lightning-fast scoops of soulfulness that at certain points had my jaw on the floor with its glossy reactive brilliance.
Thanks for a serious skull-soaking Buried Treasure, we left Bracknell on an absolute high.
-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
Great to chat and peruse the exciting merchandise on offer at Buried Treasure tenth birthday bash prices. Between DJs, compère Dolly Dolly’s surreal poetry fills the space with his wicked sense of humour. When he wasn’t artistically slagging off the joys of Bracknell, he was getting romantically attached to various others in “Bring Me…”, his words skip out lucid, sink deep, conjoin to explode in scribbled reason (his Antimacassar CD comes highly recommended).
