Chloe Warnock reports from the frontline at Eastern Electrics Bank Holiday
The last time I was at Eastern Electrics was New Year's Eve 2008. I distinctly remember getting there, leaving and a very comfy spot next to the speaker. This bank holiday weekend, I returned for the third time. I chose to spend Sunday evening back under the arches of Great Suffolk Street car park, dancing in a jacket and scarf, and dodging puddles. It's cold, my shoes are filthy and the portaloos don’t lock properly, but I don’t care. Now I’m back, I’m absorbed by the place and I remember why I bloody love it.
On arrival, we follow the vibrations into the sparsely populated concrete playground like a gaggle of teenagers. It feels as though even the concrete arches are shuddering. I’m also salivating, but that’s because of the burger van. A can of Red Stripe staves off the temptation of a cheeseburger, and the group that seems to have disbanded since the pre-drinking session reunites on the Mulletover dance floor. Initially we’re all shy and toe tapping, but before long we’re stomping. Smiles all round: ooh this is going to be fun.
I drift between the rooms to get a feel for the place and behind each wall is something entirely different to the next. Tonight’s line-up caters for varying tastes; ranging from disco to tech house, with a smattering of electro influence courtesy of Ivan Smagghe and his partner in crime Tim Parris among other acts over at the Disco Bloodbath stage. I briefly stumble upon Andre Galluzzi’s set at Mulletover and feel as though I’m intruding on people immersed in their own little worlds, while he is pounding their souls with minimal and tech house. The third arch along is hosted by Bloc, and is where Shackleton, Ramadanman will be, as well as the fashionista and all round innovator Ellen Allien.
As the night progresses, so do we through the curtains and into the third arch. It feels different here: there’s an atmosphere thick with anticipation. By around 2:30, the room is jammed with techno-hungry ravers who are keen to find out what this fraulein has in store for us. The collective murmuring of the crowd heightens – kind of like when you’re waiting for a rock band to come on stage – until she appears. She layers on the pulsating beats, clicks and anything else to create some raw, wall-pounding techno. One minute, I’m dancing amongst my friends, the next I find myself at the front, drawn to the sweaty bustling action and not sure what anyone else is doing. I’m sure I hear 'Oh Yeah' by Yello, that song from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (“chck, chck ahhh”) and while some people look unimpressed, I’m loving the '80s throwback. After indulging us for two hours, Berlin’s Queen of Techno salutes her crowd, then vanishes from the decks to the sounds of applause and general adoration. We want more.
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