|dominator live in SMEDEREVO|
It would seem that rain and cold weather have a thing for our gigs. Well, be as it may, we like it. Gives us that gloomy touch we love so much. So, we were packed unusualy well for that time of year, Suspect, Griff, Gyro, Paranoid, Devlink and Phuzzy Logik, all six of us, looking like a black stain on the dull yellow wall of the train station, when observed from far away. Up close, we were looking like a gang of terrorist, and I must admit to being a bit worried about the suspicious looks that bypassing officers were giving us.
As the last of us appeared, we headed for the bus station, and after a short search through the disgusting sorry ass excuse for a terminal, found our window. We bought our tickets, 15yud each, a bloody ripoff, as we thought, until we went up to the bus only to find out it was even worse. For there stood another, private bus which would have hauled us over for half the price. But we already bought the tickets, so what the fuck, we mounted the nearly-empty bus and started the long, slow ride to Smederevo. Though we looked quite glum, the atmosphere in the back of the bus was rather jovious, despite the ticket ripoff. The ride was long, but certainly not boring.
After lengthy pleading to the driver to stop where we were told to get off by the guys from Smed-city, he succumbed and let us out at the very spot. As the bus slammed the doors shut and headed on, we stood there, a bit disoriented, until we saw the lights. Even the slight "boom-boom-boom" was reaching us, although, as we found out later, we were about half a mile, or more from the actual boat where the gig was to take place. The walk felt good, despite the chill in the air and the slow sipping of that ever-so-boring freezing drizzle. Cleared our heads for the upcoming hellraising.
As we arrived at the boat/house/whatever it was, we were greeted by a friendly gorilla, who, after finding out we were part of the pack, let us on. The equipment people still haven't arrived. Dominator, Alex and Marcus Garvey were coming by car. They were being late, of course. Why wouldn't they. They didn't have to catch a bus, now, did they?
We settled down, left our stuff in the DJ booth, and then, after a breakneck slippity-slide on the side of the boat managed to climb down into the arena. I guess this is how the Nazgul would have felt entering Hobbitton. Like a pack of wolves in a chicken barn. The place contained a couple of dozen fluorescent-head dumbass ravers, jumping to the monotoneous trance or whatever it was that their home DJ was playing. We declared our territory (it was hard to restrain ourselves from pissing on the crowd, so we used other, more non-bestial means) and settled down to wait.
Yep, we waited a lot. We tried to entertain ourselves by playing pirates, by banging our heads together, by taking swift walks along the riverbank, by contemplating about breaking into some of the neighbouring boats, by staring at the stars, but after a while we got bored of it all, and mostly, we got bored of listening to the chicken-shit music played inside, so we went for a stroll along the river, and then we sat out at a safe distance from the boat and waited, staring down the road. It took a while, a long while as my frozen limbs were screaming at me, but finaly, the proper combination of car type, colour, crowdedness, and a myriad of other factors that always gave away potential, but not-quite candidates that came along the road, was here. Sure as hell, it turned in, got parked, and it was them.
A short discussion, a few four-letter words, and we were carrying the equipment to the boat, ready for what was coming. I was being extremely useful carrying the break-back heavy keyboard plastics and an incredible three cables along, but noone noticed it, so I decided not to mention it. After a bit of argument with the machines, and an unsuccesful attempt of putting up our wonderful poster we made just for that evening, it started. The crowd wasn't big, maybe thirty people, not counting us. And they were definitely not prepared for what was coming.
Dominator started out heavy, with his intro, and then continued to speed things up. Some of the raver-idiots fled the place pretty fast, after realising that "oh maaah gawd, this ayn't go-aahhh!" Others were hard nuts to crack, but slowly the place filtered out, and we were there with but an experienced dozen or so, who seemed to truly enjoy the hardness of the sound. Needless to say, the CoRRoSioN posse was down with the phlow.
Then, all of a sudden, I recognised one of the tunes from Manu Le Malin's Biomechanik. I thought to my self; great idea! Mix it with your own set, and we'll go on for longer. It wasn't until I saw MG's face that I had come to realise something was terribly wrong. He looked at me, and simply said "the hard drive crashed."
What the fuck?! AGAIN?! THE hard drive? Shit. Can't be. But it was. However, Domin8r was up to the task, and he carried it out perfectly. Despite the gloomy look on his face that just hung there the rest of the evening, he did an excellent job of mixing his old material with his new material straight from tapes, and some of the stuff from Biomechanik - all into a perfect hardcore headbusting experience. It would have been one hell of a night if it wasn't for that damn hard drive.
As it turned out, it was dead as a dodo. All of the new material, much of the old, and several productions, not to mention megs of tradework, all lost in an instant. Dead as a doorknob. But what the fuck, life goes on. And so did the party, until the wee hours of the morning, when there were about five or six natives left, and of course, us. All drenched of energy, all gasping for air, all gulping down liqiud, all with our legs hurting like hell. It felt good. No, fuck, it felt great. It would have felt perfect, if it wasn't for the drive. But WTF. Life goes on.
We packed the shit, crammed it into the car, and set off with the few remaining natives for a short tour of the town, and a quick search for food. We found next to none, at least next to none in terms of edibility, so after a short grunty fight, we decided we should split up. Part of us go by car, part of us stays 'till morning to catch the early bus. I was lucky to have an exam tomorrow morning, so I was admitted for a drive in the car. Those that were not, hated my guts. But, that is the way life goes.
The exam went well, I almost maxed out, and life felt good. Hardcore continued, and will continue ever after - for always remember; it NEVER dies.