Bleep43 at Corsica Studios

Bleep43 at Corsica Studios

15 June, 2009
by: Maxbacharach

Corsica Studios really isn't the prettiest of clubs. Lodged under a sullen overground station at the perennially depressing Elephant & Castle roundabout, its existence is signified by the sole presence of a couple of burly-looking doormen and an ominously low-key doorway. Cripes. Am I gonna, like, get chopped up in there or something?

But then, prettiness really isn't the idea. The idea - and it's a good one - is that you pay your £15 and in return get quality DJs on a quality system, backed up by fair's fair drink prices, a sprawling smoking area and careful attention to lighting (something all-too-frequently neglected in London's many retina-burning clubs). It's the perfect place for (wreck)heads to get down to business with the minimum of fuss.

Which is exactly what takes place tonight, courtesy of the good people at Bleep43. They've booked in Omar-S and Donato Dozzy - the latter making his UK debut - for extended sessions each, making this a quietly brilliant line-up that, for many, pips the competition on what's a bountiful night in the capital's underground clubbing calendar (the likes of Robert Hood, Nathan Fake, El-B and Appleblim are all playing just down the road). That Derrick May is in attendance (presumably as Omar S's Motor City 'mentor') only adds to the sense that of all the alternatives, this is the place to be.

So what of the tunes? Well, they're bloody good (for the most part), and mixed in a fittingly no-messing fashion. Dozzy plays a characteristically thoughtful and well-paced set, giving his material plenty of space to breathe and building nicely from deep, trippy tech house through to sizzling, acid-inflected minimalism (Shed's brutal 'That Beats Everything' sounds immense). Patently, both he and the crowd are loving it, and even the concertedly deadpan Omar-S cracks the odd smile (probably owing to Dozzy's increasingly comical 'techno face').

By the time the clock strikes 2, the club is bumping (10/10 for DD), and it falls to Mr. S to see the night out. He plays exactly what you'd  expect: deep, chunky, soul-drenched Detroit house with just a hint of chugging techno underneath. Nothing he does is particularly spectacular (he's no Derrick May), but as an exercise in constraint and consistency, his set is faultless. By the time we leave, everyone's locked into his inimitable groove, heads down and bobbing as if time - at least momentarily - has seized up.

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