Midwinter
in Finland's capital and it's zero-degree Disneyland of lights and ornate
architectural grandeur covered in fresh snow. The frosted magic is especially
apparent in the Kaivopuisto Park, down on the waterfront, a short drive
from the ferries that carry increasing numbers of young people to the
now independent and currently rave-crazed Estonia. Sitting picturesquely
in the snow blanket, beneath a skeletal congregation of trees, is tonight's
venue Ravintola Kaivohuone, doing its best to look like some gentleman's
country club. The search lights spinning skywards, however, give the game
away.
Dave Seaman is here to inject some winter warmth into
the aptly Renaissance-esque surroundings of club Screen, one of Helsinki's
finest features, so called because of the large - yep - screen onto
which promoter and VJ Micko projects his explosively improvised video
collages.
When you find a club that concentrates as much on visuals as it does the
music, you immediately wonder; whatever happened to the VJ in Britain?
It could have been different - the early 90's hailed the arrival of the
video jockey as a creative force in clubbing. Now you just don't hear
about them. They exist, they're just not stars.
In Finland things are a little different. VJs are billed on flyers
the same as any DJ, and VJ Micko, who makes music videos and
TV ads by day, is an example of the Finn's respect for purveyors if
superior eye candy. Paving the dancefloor with a frantic crowd in time
for Seaman is Micko's partner, promoter and DJ Mad Jay, who also
mixed the the recent 'Screen' compilation - Screen being the first Finnish
club to indulge in this particular superclub side venture.
It's certainly looking good on the dancefloor at Screen, with
the emphasis on looking. Not down-talking the music, of course,
but while Mad Jay slowly coaxes the crowd with his spotless selection
of tribal grooves and chunky progressive house, Micko blends and fast-cuts
in real-time bold cinematic images and iconography with frequent explosions
and massive fireballs. Independence Day is one of the movies being chopped
tonight and it strikes me, in this time of fear and loathsome presidents,
dancing while the White House disintegrates in a ball of flames and
flying glass is a terribly civilised way of spending a night out. Aside
from the Playstation 2 room, there are more old school amusements; roulette
and a craps table with uniformed croupiers - also extremely civilised.
The kids, meanwhile, don't give a damn about civilised. They're here
for a rid, and as Seaman is greeted with an immense, devotional roar,
the floor begins to bloat with the exodus of from the round tables in
the lounge. Setting a deep pounding note early on, Seaman takes the
increasingly chaotic crowd through epic, sweeping swathes of pure, funky
progressive house, while a blue-tinted, computer-generated, disembodied
girl's face circles and periodically explodes on the screen.
It's delicious controlled mayhem until the end when Seaman unleashes
a couple of pleasers, a blissfully tranced-out 'Autumn Leaves' and a
couple of heavier, techier cuts. He ends the vintage Da Silva, at the
time the cusp of No. 1 with 'Touch Me', while on screen huge stone letters
reading 'Dave Seaman' repeatedly detonate in great ballons of flame.
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