Mumuration - Chapter 1 - 1994 (Part 1)

The moment she walked onto the Shark Club dance floor, Moony knew he was done. He just didn’t know how?

 

Moony, or Steven Moon as he was less commonly known was much like many other lads hitting their early twenties in the mid-nineties. He would of course hate anyone for saying this as, well, we all like to consider that we have something different to offer. Moony and his mates were keen to fully enjoy the fruits of youth at this particular point in history. Although he wasn't averse to a backward glance to the sixties or late seventies punk scene Moony was acutely aware that this was a brilliant time to be young. Right now he was preparing to enjoy the fruits of the Brighton club scene that was growing out of the dampened embers of the rave scene. A scene that Mooney and his mates were enthusiastic bit parts of.

 

Margret Thatcher, the evil milk thief herself had spent her last few years in power terrified of kids dancing in fields. She was terrified of people coming together. Who the hell knows what youth would do if they ever truly became united. Maybe Sham Sixty-Nine were right, they would never be divided and then where would we be. In a ‘society’ I guess, but we know she didn’t like that. Before now, youth culture had been about finding difference, division and fighting. Mods and Rockers, Punks and Teds, Rude Boys and National Front. Everyone and Goths. Now though, here we all were dancing together, loving each other and ignoring . .  maybe even celebrating our differences. The government hated it.

 

So here we are, a scene tamed by bills in parliament citing ‘repetitive beats’ as the devil and dancing kids his worshippers. The trouble was people wanted to keep dancing. So it became sanitised, more sensible and acceptable to the Tories. The thing was there was money to be made in satisfying the youth’s craving for dancing and repetitive beats and the Tories love that. So we ended up with huge clubs, full of shiny chrome and plastic. Being expensive to get in was a necessary problem as the clubs didn’t make much money at the bar. Aside from gallons and gallons of bottled water of course. Especially when they chose to turn the taps off in the toilets.

 

For Moony and his mates though, The Shark Club didn’t fit into that sanitised scene. It felt a million miles away from The Ministry of Sound and Cream that repacked the beats and sold it to the masses. This place felt like one of the warehouse parties of yesteryear. Moony had only been to a few but this felt right. To the untrained eye, the place looked unfinished and kind of cobbled together at the last minute. That was the plan though, a return to the warehouse days of glory.

 

Moony was waiting patiently by the short narrow corridor that led out to the toilets. It was early in the night but condensation was already dripping from the ceiling, creating an interesting water featured tunnel under the arches of Brighton Beach. Later on, with more dancing bodies this would become a cascading waterfall. Moony had been out most of the afternoon drinking with the band. He had just dropped his first pill and knew that a spew was imminent. Enough last-minute dashes through clubs and pubs had been done for him to know to be prepared. Armed with his chewing gum he drew hard on his fag and surveyed the clientele of the club. He felt the first tingles of the pill and smiled to himself “Here we go, see you soon” he thought to himself.

 

The music was amazing and Moony was dancing hard, as usual, he was battling a bit to find enough space to express himself. He cast his eye up to the DJ booth and marvelled. It was hard to believe that this small club in Brighton had managed to book the legend that was Paul Oakenfold. But here he was spinning his brilliant progressive house, techno and trance records to a select number of patrons. It didn’t seem so long ago that he was supporting U2 on their bloated stadium rock tour. From the outside looking in it seemed like Bono and the boys were desperately trying to hold on to any credibility or relevance they hadn’t thrown away many years before. For indie kids like Mooney, who had feet in many different musical camps Paul Oakenfold and Andy Weatherall, who had visited the Shark a few weeks before were gods for their work with the baggy bands of the late eighties and early nineties. They had been instrumental in creating that indie dance scene without which Moony probably wouldn’t be listening to house music at all. Although in fairness as a pioneer of acid house in the UK nor would many of the other people in here tonight.

 

The music was amazing, the crowd was sound and now that Moony had spewed and cleaned up the drugs were feeling great too. This was going to be another brilliant night that, save for what was about to happen would have merged into many great nights through the years.

 

Moony looked up, sweat dripping down his face from his messy locks pushed forward and sticking to his face. His eyes were wide as if everything was brand new and he was just taking it all in. Someone shoved a bottle of poppers under his nose and he inhaled deeply. Almost instantly he lost his rhythm and stepped back awkwardly. The back dancefloor could only function smoothly if everyone was in time and Moony became a clumsy anomaly. His stumble caused a chain reaction across the dancefloor. A ripple of mistimed steps faded out at the edges and people regained their composure.

 

Alien caught his eye and they exchanged concerned and reassuring smiles as Alien lost his timing too. If Alien had been aware of his part in the ever decreasing dancefloor ripple he would have mused that this was a return to form for him. Out of step with everyone else and causing irritation to his peers.

 

Tonight though was not a night for that kind of introspection. This was a night for looking after each other. Friends and strangers. Moony pointed to the edge of the dancefloor and broke his connection with the music to regain his composure. He stepped off the dance floor and shakily made his way towards the bar. The warm rush of ecstasy forcefully pushing its way out from his guts. He stopped and steadied himself. Pupils wide under his half-shut eyelids his eyes were not offering him much assistance. 

 

As he arrived at the bar his hand was met with an ice-cold bottle of water. He looked around randomly trying to ascertain his benefactor.

“Look at the fucking state of you,” a voice laughed. Hard but caring and a little concerned. “You alright Moons?”

 

Moons looked up and saw the face of Julian, Jools or as he liked to be called Hooligan. They had been out drinking together in the afternoon but this was not Jools’ scene. Jools was the drummer in the band but he didn’t share the others’ enthusiasm for how music, ecstasy and love. Jools loved his music, love cocaine and love football and the violence that surrounds it or as Moony sometimes suspected the nostalgia of the violence that goes with it. 

 

“Not my scene Moons” Jools laughed “Going to meet some of the lads for a drink” he smiled pointing first to his nose and then to the door. 

 

Moony smiled and nodded, he couldn’t understand how anyone could not be into this but each their own. “See you soon mate, take care . . .  I fucking . . . . Love you” he slurred and stepped in for a hug.

 

“You fucking sweaty mess.” Jools laughed “Watch the Yves Saint Laurent shirt. I should never have worn the white one with you about. Here follow me a minute”

 

He took Moony’s hand and led him away from the bar and into a throng of people. “Here pass me your fags” he smiled. As he opened the somewhat crumpled gold Benson and Hedges packet he slid in a small white wrap.

 

“Here, this is for later. Just a few lines for you and Alien. Is the new guy coming tonight too? There should be enough.” With a ruffle of Moony’s hair, he leant over and smiled ‘don’t fucking lose it, have a brilliant night . . .  weekend . . .  whatever. Give me a call when you are up and about.” 

 

Alien was wandering over to try and find Moony and check he was okay. Jools waved him over and hugged him to say goodbye “He’s off his fucking nut” he yelled at Alien, seemingly no better. “Laters!”

 

They watched him leave and then found the wall by the dancefloor to sit on. Alien smiled and pushed a jet of air out through his lips and smiled “Fuck these pills are good”

 

Moony chewed on the air and offered his mate some chewing gum “those poppers floored me, I’m off my fucking tits.”

 

Alien was the creative driving force of the band, although his crippling social skills, nerves, anxiety and ability to put his foot in it at moments notice meant that songwriting and artistic guidance was where is leadership ended. Moony in many ways was the leader of the band, in fact, it was him that was at the centre of the line-up. Well, the original line up anyway. A year or so ago they had lost their singer Whitey. Whitey was a huge punk fan and as Alien’s more gentle and melodic influence increased Whitey began to feel that his anger and aggression was no longer represented. At the time the remaining members, excluding Jools who had managed to effectively straddle both camps, were highly concerned that they would not survive their next encounter with their discarded singer. The vocalist could certainly not be accused of faking it. His anger and aggression went directly to the core of his being.

 

The only member that Moons was not tight with was the new member Jon. With no snappy nickname, Jon was a contrast to the contrasts already within the band. Moony hadn’t quite managed to work him out yet. He was quiet and kind of withdrawn, even when talking about music. Moony liked him though, mainly because Alien liked him. And he could fucking play. He complimented Alien’s songwriting too and they all had to admit that since his arrival on the scene things had gone from strength to strength. Moony was happy that the band was now complete. Although since his introduction to house music (at the hand of Moony) Alien had been making noises about getting a keyboard player).

 

The two friends look at each other and smile. Without a word, they both stood up and headed up to the dancefloor. The music takes hold of them and it feels like they are stepping into another world. The music drops out and the lights brighten. The two lads look around and the beautiful smiling facing. You can see confusion gathering in their eyes as they wonder if the night is over. Then . .  the bassline starts to snake its way around the dancefloor. Gathering up all the lost souls and leading them back into fading darkness. The vocals hypnotise the dancefloor with nothing more than oohs and ahhs. The crowd are entranced, waiting, swaying as one and waiting for direction from their leader in the booth.

 

Then it happens. The dance floor is plunged into darkness as the drum kicks in and leads everyone back into their perfect time. Alien dances with his head down and nodding to keep himself in perfect time. He mustn’t miss a beat and he never does. Moony is looking around and catching people’s eye. His hands raised to the DJ, finger extending counting out the beats. They float with the rest of the dancefloor and sail away on the acid bleeping bassline. 

 

Alien is lost to the music but stirs when he becomes aware of Moons saying something to someone. As he looks up he sees Jon bouncing on to the dancefloor with his girlfriend Katie and her friend.They hug introductions and try to talk over the music but all Moony heard was.

 

“Hi, I am Charly”

 

Soon the five friends are dancing like they have known each other all their lives. The music is driving and with the strobes, they got lost. Guided like puppets from above. Oakenfold dropping and lifting them like a rollercoaster tune after tune.

 

Sometime later Moony levels off and regains some of his consciousness. No idea of how long he has been here or how long he has been chewing on his now flavourless gum. He looks around and makes a smoking gesture to Alien to come and join him away from the dancefloor. Alien nods and smiles as they dance off the dancefloor, Moony’s hand still in the air. As they leave the floor they notice Jon and the two girls sitting and nodding in a small window seat. 

 

The three bandmates stand by the dancefloor arm in arm. Feeling like they can on the world. Moony looks around and sees Katie walking away from Charly. He breaks away from the other two and bowls over to join her. Jon and Alien look at each other and laugh.

 

“She is a brilliant pianist,” Jon says, plucking the thought out of thin air. Katie says she is learning and sampling and programming. reckons she’s made some good dance tracks.”

Alien looks at him wildly like he has just been hit. In many ways he has. Then his eyes close slowly as he is hit by a rush from deep within. Jon looks around confused as to what has caused this rush. He laughs and grabs his mate’s hand. Stopping him from falling backwards.

 

“Stevie Wonder” Alien smiles as he opens his eyes ‘ Stevie fucking Wonder bleeps!” as if this is some kind of explanation. The confusion is palpable and hangs in the air. Alien stares into Jon’s eyes and waits for the penny to drop. Jon has no idea that there was a penny let alone if it is dropping. He watches his mate start to dance triumphantly, his hands in the air in triumph and a huge smile on his face.

 

“Whatever this idea is you had better remember it because I haven’t got a fucking clue!” Jon starts to laugh, a little concerned that he has lost Alien to whatever the fuck he is on about.

 

Alien stoped dancing and seemed to rejoin planet earth.

 

“Leave Them All Be . . . fucking . . . hind” is all that he can say. All that he will say on the subject. 

 

Charly sits and kneads her hands. She hasn’t done many pills and this one still has hold of her. She looks up and sees Moony walking towards her. At least she thinks it is Moony but who the fuck knows. One of them is called Alien and the other Moony. When Jon had first mentioned them she had assumed they were some kind of spaced-out hippies. Katie seemed to think they were okay and she did kind of like Moony’s style on the dance floor. He had that kind of intense cool Ian Brown thing going on. Less aggressive but like he was catching the time and place. Aware of the importance of here and now. Living life and understanding the preciousness of it all. She wondered if he had lost someone too. She didn’t want to think about that though. Not now. Moony was standing over her pointing to the space next to her, waiting for an invitation. She smiled and patted the empty seat glad he could keep her mind occupied. Katie wouldn’t mind too, and if she did they could always squeeze up.

 

The pair exchanged a few pleasantries but largely sat together listening to the music and smoking cigarettes. Stupid really but she felt like they had made a connection.

 

It seems like a sudden decision. The others walked past her and Katie offered her hand saying something that got lost in the music. She took Katie’s hand, offered this guy she had only just met her other one and joined the others on the dancefloor.

 

In what seems like no time the lights flicked on and the confusion returned. This time only accompanied by deafening silence. Well if the silence wasn’t deafening then the ringing in everyone’s ears was. Alien looked around and saw an ocean of wide eyes and smiling mouths. In that instant, the spell was broken. The crowd fractured into a hundred individual pieces and with a bump Alien mused that they would never be one again. Alien’s life had always been defined by fear. Most anxiety but also the fear of people. The fear had been gestated by a lack of understanding of people and then nurtured by experiences like school. He had stopped his dad from taking him to football because the crowds were so terrifying. He never put his finger on what it was that scared him but suddenly he felt guilty about taking that away. He though. Now though. He was part of it.

 

(On to Chapter One - Part Two)