Aath is gripping Roxana’s hand tightly as they press through the crowd.
From the number of people it was hard to realise that this show had only been advertised via personal text message. It was taking place in a small basement club, in central London. Aath was excited as the session was being performed by one of her favourite DJ’s and friend, Sam Chemic. She knew Chemic wasn’t his real surname, but that’s what she’d always called him.
The event was called Dark Neon Lights wherever it was held. The shows always involved lots of body paint, neon signs, little clothing, pumping bass heavy, electronic, even dance music.
Artists such as John Hopkins, Nils Frahm and The Glitch Mob, were frequent inclusions to his repertoire.
The cellar was licensed for about 50 patrons, presently the number was at least twice that. The atmosphere was already dark, throbbing with bouncing bodies, rhythmical music, driving bass and drums, punctuated by the strobe of UV lighting and the many neon signs that had been installed just for this show.
The pair pushed their way through the crowd until they were directly in front of Sam and his electronics. The timing was perfect … Sam grins at them as drum and bass erupts from the way too large speakers.
