Josh Wink hits Matter

Saturday, February 21st

Looking forward to a day of travel that will hopefully be easy and enjoyable. The hotel is in plain sight of the train station and for a 3:25 departure I will be able to vacate the room five minutes to 3PM, which I do after an extended warm shower to wash the smoke that has permeated all possible parts of me.  There isn’t a smoking law for nightclubs in Belgium and wow! Last night my eyes were tearing, there was so much cigarette smoke. I think entrance to the club required each person who set foot into the venue to smoke at all times. I’m not joking. There seemed to be more cigarette ash on the floor than empty drink containers, and I have become spoiled over the past year of most discotheques being liberated from cigarettes.

The beauty of the train and the magnificent station comforts me, securing feelings of serenity amongst the whirlwind of energy and surrounding activity. A short expedition to Brussels Midi from Antwerp Centraal finds the train arriving right on time, and I effortlessly walk into the boarding area for the Euro Star destined for St. Pancras, London. I have traveled from Paris to London before on the Euro Star, which was incredibly easy. No airport anxiety or intercourse with traffic or automobiles once landing in Heathtrow’s paranoid fortress. I am delighted not to partake in this traditional procedure. UK immigration is located after ticket collection and baggage X-ray and is the standard procedure without the prolonged lines and hassle of London’s airports.

The difference of the ticket price between a coach seat and the business class was petite, and I was happy to have made the decision, as the service (including drinks and food) and seats were much better than the standard coach experience. I highly recommend inquiring about each class of service when taking a train, as you may be delighted and surprised.

After a brief standstill in Lille, France to pick up passengers, the train continues to push its way through the northwest French countryside, this time with children running from one side of the train to the other, shrieking phrases at one another, which made me smile due to the innocence of their simple tirades.  I thought, “What if I did that?” What if I got up and ran through the aisles too, yelling and smiling - what would happen?  Would people laugh or call the authorities? I decided to simply grin and daydream about that possibility instead of what may actually transpire.

After a period of time my ears pop and realize we are now in the Channel Tunnel, Portmanteau Chunnel or simply ‘Chunnel’. The 50km undersea rail tunnel linking Coquelles, France with Folkestone, England is the longest undersea tunnel in the world. Also a fun bit of info on the Chunnel, is that a cross Channel tunnel was originally proposed in 1802 and that it finally opened in 1994.

I thought about being under the sea, in a human-constructed structure and was fearful when I fully registered that we were at the bottom of the sea, and how this could be possible. Engineering always puzzles and dumbfounds me, and at this magnitude, I have these thoughts a lot. The accomplishment of our species astounds me, surprises me and humbles me every single day. Simply put - wow!

I continue my memoirs from last night and this morning, punching them on my Macbook computer, whilst they’re still vivid and active in my mind.  I listen to Brian Eno and Robert Fripp’s ‘Evening Star’ LP, suitable as twilight approaches.  My mind wanders as I think about tonight and what might be in store at Matter and then after as well, as sleep will not be on my agenda due to the gig in Berlin at 4PM Sunday.

When I reflect on my travel schedule and the cursory period of time I will have spent in the UK, I contemplate how special time is. Twelve hours in London. That’s it. Time for hotel check-in, dinner, a couple hellos, greetings, quick interviews, 2-hour gig, shower, change of clothes, taxi, and then… I wonder how I got back to the airport and how come the sun is up, and what time is it, anyway?

Transition time at Matter - Satoshi and me

I focus, and now I’m back to my present reality. I check into the hotel, and joyfully take my shoes off, sit for a moment, and quickly whip out my UK adaptor, plug my computer in and finish the blog. I get this strange feeling and look back as if the bed is taunting me, making fun of me, teasing me for not exploiting its services. I ignore the suspicions and continue forward with the writing, as I have 50 minutes before our dinner reservation.

9:30 is at hand and I mosey my way down to the hotel restaurant to meet up with James, and Emma from my UK agency Elite, Will from Matter and Satoshi Tomiie, where we partake in my favorite - food and conversation. 

View from the hotel to the mighty O2 Arena

We get treated to both a good meal and a great view of the largest single roofed structure in the world, the O2 arena/Millennium Dome, a massive alien spaceship-like structure that houses the club, Matter. Our view also includes the emerald green laser shooting into the gray clouded sky from Royal Observatory in Greenwich, the site where Greenwich Mean Time is generated and in maritime history is known to be 0º longitude or Greenwich Meridian.

Satoshi and I reminisce about old times, and then he shares his travel tales and accounts of getting food poisoning in Italy two days prior to our present meal. It’s dreadful to be ill on the road.  You can really feel vulnerable and helpless, praying for the simplicity of feeling ‘normal’ again.

Will from Matter shares with us his story of recently being married and making his way to Northern Africa for his honeymoon, and as stories flow, so does the time. I excuse myself to prepare for the whirlwind evening at hand, as the pick up for the short jaunt to the club is 60 minutes shy of now and I don’t want to feel more rushed than I am already.

I finish the blog from Friday night just as my departure time arrives, and the driver meets me and we navigate with stealth and speed through the vacant south London roundabouts trying to make the ‘cut off’- a 1AM close to the tunnel, which causes a 30 minute diversion to the usual five minute drive.  We made it and arrive at the arena where it is mobbed.

A varied line-up of artists and DJs along with a great venue makes for a packed house tonight. Tiga, myself, Satoshi Tomiie and the Glimmers are the entertainment and it’s hot and loud when I get whisked in. I do a quick informal interview with Future Music magazine, talk about the awesome sound system with Matter’s sound engineer and then head to the DJ booth to say hello to Tiga, who is easily rocking the joint with piles of handwritten CDs scattered behind him. As mentioned before in Paris where we met, it’s always great to see an old friend, and I am reminded of this once again.

How does Tiga still look 21?

At 3AM I take over the decks heading in the direction of an acid adventure. I quickly notice an issue with Traktor not outputting audio from the non-playing channel.  I rapidly switch to an Audio CD (which I carry for back up), mix it in and work with Andy the sound engineer trying to pinpoint what the issue is at hand. We’re both not sure how, yet audio comes about, after many options have whizzed by and thanks to his diligence we are back on track. Now, I just have to get my head back in DJ mode after that small 10-minute stint. 

And you know what- it matters! Most of the soundsystems that we play on are average, and when you are fortunate enough to play on the decent systems, it makes the DJ sound like no other. No matter if it’s CD’s, vinyl or mp3s, the music comes to life and has another dimension.

Matter boasts: Martin Audio System where close to 1500-2000 watts of sound are pushed through a 96-channel Yamaha DME processor mixer; a Timex surround system and 11 stacks of speakers; and 8, 24k subs aimed at the audience. Oh yeah, can’t forget the 45 pistons located under the dance floor that emulate the low-end frequencies, causing you to actually feel the music through your feet. Insane! There might be some additional information on the club’s website, but it’s the best recall of the stats I was given at 3AM in a loud club. Some of the big songs for the night were:

1) Wink ‘Higher State’ (if I don’t play this in London, they would kill me!)
2) Haritas ‘Spaced Invaders’
3) Slam ‘Hot Knives’
4) Smith & Selway ‘Silverstreak’
5) D’Julz ‘Just So You Know’ (Original)
6) Justin Maxwell ‘The Windey Man’
7) Steve Mac ‘Smack Dance’
8) Gregor Thresher ‘95 Days’

Satoshi comes in and we joke a bit as he sets up his Serato and what seemed to be 40” laptop screen (blinding) and we transition smoothly. I am hot and sweaty and wipe my brow as I pack up my belongings with aid from the very helpful sound crew. I always want to stay and listen to a colleague. I like to hear new music, observe how they approach their job, be inspired and hopefully dance a bit. I feel it’s a respect of sorts -a kind of recognition and props when a DJ hangs about. And I always feel guilty when I have to leave, where ‘hanging’ isn’t in the equation. I do notice that there is an ‘understanding’ to this situation too, as we all have our valid excuses as to why we have to leave: No sleep, early flight, hooking up, smashed beyond belief, can’t talk or walk due to no sleep or being smashed beyond belief, etc… Well, this morning I have a valid excuse and Satoshi understands my situation, as I have 90 minutes before my pick up.

I am delighted that the sun hasn’t reared its morning declaration upon my departure from the Dome, and I can escape into the sanctuary of my cave, in a true vampire-like fashion for 75 minutes.

Sleep is not in the scenario at all! “Don’t even lay horizontal,” I yell in my head. If I do, I will easily drift off and perhaps miss my flight. What we have here is the ‘work’ of my job. Stay up! Don’t sleep! Stay focused! Get packed! Be ready! I write a bit about tonight for the upcoming blog, and my weary mind is having difficulties connecting with the languorous movement of my fingers.

I decide to jump in the shower and take a hot one to clear the cobwebs. Now, let me tell you. Whenever I’m in the UK, I am always amazed that the hot water isn’t hot, but lava hot! Burning, blistering hotter than boiling hot and it’s crazy! I am embarassed that I have to turn the water 3/4 of the way into the cold just for it to be agreeable for me to put my hand in to check. I guess this is a luxury that I could never fully appreciate. Yet, I swear the glass door (of the shower) and the tiles were going to melt! I zoned out under the spellbinding downpour for a gluttonous 20 minutes and then scrutinized both getting out of the shower and the day ahead of me. Stay awake! Stay focused! I’m going to work!