It was under the Keralan stars, by the light of a full moon, on a grey volcanic beach by the Indian Ocean, that this break-out futurist drum n’ bass record found its way into the Crate.
As the crickets rang out from the nearby cliff tops, and the stars sparkled overhead like prime cut diamonds – Goldie’s ‘Sea of Tears’ reverberated and boomed out to the party massive on the sound-system speakers – to the crashing of waves and echoing cawing of seabirds.
Blowing the sticky cobwebs off any lingering inner-city pressures, I was soaking up the Keralan party vibes with an old mate Tim, who was ticking off special agendas on his Bucket List, having been handed a terminal cancer diagnoses by clinical NHS doctors.
The fire burned feverishly, a bonfire of the vanities, on the cool volcanic sands – as wiry chain-smoking locals, sun burnt package tourists and bronzed dreaded traveller folk, raved it up before the flickering flames and full moonlight – and the DJ unapologetically mashed up Goldie, with a smidgen of Jive Bunny and classic Sting to boot.
Tim’s ‘Sea of Tears’ was put on ice, however, as we swigged local moonshine, and partied till the firewood ran out and the sun rose in the velvet dawn of morning.
Back in Blighty, a million miles from Keralan beaches, ‘Timeless’ was proving a timely epoch of the times, and Goldie was shifting tabloid gossip-rag weight, from argy-bargy with Keith Flint (of Prodigy fame), to a celebrity-fodder dalliance with Bjork.
Smashing it where it mattered. On the dancefloor. Goldie & Metalheadz paid golden weight homage to their drum n’ bass family lineage – from a Guy called Gerald, via Fabio & Grooverider, from the decaying inner-city streets and anarchic pirate radio stations – and survived to roll out their brand of future-proofed jungle to the millennial massive’s today.