Friday 6th March 2009 @ Lakota, Bristol
Featuring Sets From: Benga, Blackmarket, Youngsta, Fearless, Chef, Gemmy, Sinden, Ratpack, Fake Blood

For those not acquainted with some of the cruder lexicon of today’s youth, ‘shit the bed’ is nifty piece of slang used to express delight and a certain element of surprise – something you’d proclaim if, for example, you found out that your sister’s new boyfriend was an AAA pass-wielding Erol Alkan. Or when, say, you discovered like many of Bristol’s chuffed bass lovers, that the phenomenal quartet of Benga, Sinden, Ratpack and Fake Blood were due to headline Bristol promoters The Blast’s latest Lakota dancefest.

Those unaware of this auspicious configuration could clearly see that something big was a-brewing as Stokes Croft filled with both hardened ravers and the bright-eyed youngsters that this night above others seems to attract. Once inside Lakota’s grimy walls, all were let loose like children in a rather ill-advised sweet shop, with every nook and cranny hiding yet another excruciatingly tasty beat-maker. Right at the top, a sweaty and predominantly male audience frantically moved to the pumping bass of Nicky Blackmarket, Youngsta and Fearless. Hench regular Chef and Punch Drunk’s Gemmy kept dusbters well and truly entertained, the latter right into the early hours of the morning.

With such exciting adventures to be had upstairs, you would be understood, but probably not forgiven, for missing the fabulous four in Lakota’s main stretch. Those that braved the squeeze were rewarded with Croydonite dupstep maestro Benga, who kicked things off with his signature fusion of dub and grime. To follow was an eclectic set from genre-blending Sinden, whose catholic remixes of Basement Jaxx, Bjork and Mujava and a brief stint backing MIA on her Kala tour have made him a highly sought after man of the moment.

Next up was a history lesson from legendary old skoolers Ratpack, who led Lakota to moments of euphoric nostalgia – despite most being too young or just too mashed to remember the first time round. Just as clubbers had recovered from a customary laser assault from Ratpack’s MC Evenson Allen, they were confronted head on by a bone-rattling set from the enigmatic Fake Blood. Although the quest to identify this mystery man has almost subsided (most sources seem to have settled for The Black Ghosts’ DJ Touche), interest in his painstakingly crafted mixes and masterful splicing is still at its peak. As he twisted vocals from the likes of Little Boots and The Kills to pronounce “Fake Blood” – done by minutely chopping up the original vocal then reordering it to form his own tag – the crowd upped their excited gurns to shouts of applause.

Apart from minor grumbles that some would have liked to see Fake Blood on a bit earlier, the night more than lived up to its ridiculously strong line-up. Keep a close eye on what The Blast boys have got planned next; chances are they’ve got a host of other spectacular DJs hidden up their beat-savvy sleeves.

www.myspace.com/theblast_bristol

Laura Snoad