After a couple of hours we came to an agreement. We would pay him twenty grand to join up with Biology for that one night. It was a colossal amount of money to pay for a gaff, but it was that or nothing. He wouldn’t tell us anything about the venue and to maintain secrecy he wouldn’t even say whether it was an indoors or outdoors location. The deal was for a joint party using all his equipment and DJs.
He gave us the address, which we biked over to the telephone company to be put online straight away. We turned our phones on and began instructing people where to go. The event was back on, although our spirits were low and we were still recovering from the massive police operation against us. At least we had managed to find another venue. It could have been a lot worse. The phones went berserk before dying down after a few hours, and we decided to make our way to the plot to meet up with the rest of the team.
We left Jarvis at his office and hit the motorway en route to Meopham in Kent. Hundreds of cars were heading for the party. Seeing them brought back a tingle of excitement, adrenaline started to pump around my body and a smile spread from cheek to cheek. We hit a tailback of traffic five minutes from the secret location. We were in a narrow country lane and the cars didn’t move an inch for twenty minutes.
It started to pour down with rain and hundreds of people were heading towards the venue on foot. I asked a group of guys coming away from the site what the venue was like. They told me it was outside in a valley, everyone was getting soaked and there was hardly any shelter. This news came as a shocking surprise.
I felt devastated and we couldn’t really say anything to Jarvis because he hadn’t said if it was indoors or outdoors – a very clever strategy. We did have the raging hump though. At first we thought we’d been well and truly stung, but soon we calmed down. It was a shrewd business move on his part and we would have done exactly the same thing, especially if we knew the other team’s tickets were outselling ours by hundreds. I decided to turn my car around and head back home. I was very disheartened by the whole affair. When I reached home I crashed out straight away, feeling deeply sorry for myself and the people dancing in the rain.
Other than what I’ve been told, to this day I still don’t know what the party was like. The following afternoon I received loads of phone calls from friends and family who had gone. They all had mixed feelings about how the event went. The overall view was that if it hadn’t rained it would have been a great scenic visual, but the downpour washed out most of the event. The 4,000 people that did stay danced all night. During that week we announced that anyone who still had tickets for that event could bring them to our next do and gain entry free. Out of all the events that did or didn’t happen, this is the one that always comes back to haunt me. Whenever someone has told me they’ve been to one of my gigs, I’ve always asked which one. If they say it was outdoors, I know they haven’t had a very good experience of my organisational skills.
GENESIS 1989: LIVE AND LET LIVE
The title speaks for itself. But this message wasn’t directed only at the powers that be. It was also a message to the promoters (unknown to this day) who kept picking up the phone and informing Dibble of party locations. There were enough punters for us all but someone regularly did the dirty.
They’d send a spy to the meet to get the address of the venue and, once this was obtained, a phone call was made. Before you knew it, the riot squad were turning up in force. This week was no exception and the venue was discovered before anyone had even left the meeting point. The officers, gloating as they basked in the glory of stopping the event, would tell you straight: ‘Oh by the way, lads, just in case anyone wants to know, we’ve done a deal with your competitors: they gave you up so they could have a party instead.’ This was the sort of thing they used to come out with, after arresting everyone in the building and confiscating the gear.
It was only 9.30 p.m., and thousands of people were at the meeting point. We kept our phones switched on, telling callers the venue had been discovered and that we were trying to find another one. One of the callers told me he knew a legal warehouse, and that the owner would still be on site. We immediately drove down to the three-storey building in Hackney. It was owned by a West Indian chap who hired it out for wedding receptions, christenings and birthday parties.
We were in luck, the owner was still on the premises and happy to hire us the warehouse for that night. Luck also had it that a sound system was already set up for a party scheduled for Sunday. The only drawback was that we had no lighting equipment, and no chance of getting any. One of our pals had some silly disco-type lights and, under the circumstances, they had to do.
Within an hour of losing the other venue and telling callers where the emergency warehouse was, people started arriving. The place could only hold 1,200, tops. At least we had achieved our objective: this smaller, more intimate crowd could actually get to know one another instead of being lost in a sea of dancing bodies. There was no way we’d make the money back we had spent on the whole night, but our incentive was that our loyal supporters would have a great time anyway.
I was fitting some of the dodge lights to the ceiling on the ground floor. They had to be better than nothing – if we didn’t have them it would be pitch black. In walked two of my pals, Kenny Ken and Tony, just when I was telling someone to get hold of another DJ because the next one was late, or lost. The boys told me they were bedroom DJs who had untold records at home and asked if I would give them a shot at spinning some tunes. I was unsure at first because they were beginners, but they soon convinced me and off they went. They both played a wicked set and Kenny Ken gained a fast start on the road to becoming a top DJ, remixer and composer.
I hadn’t been too well a couple of days prior to this one and was suffering from exhaustion. By 1a.m. I’d hit the sack and passed out for a few days. I had a fever from lack of energy and a mental shutdown. We lost a load of money on that campaign, but what the hell? That, added to the amount we’d already paid out, came to sixty grand, give or take five jib.
GENESIS BIOLOGY: FUTURE POWER PEOPLE NEW YEAR’S EVE 1989
Much had happened since Genesis Sunset presented The Future is Now. Here we stood on the threshold of what we hoped would be a brighter year. The attendances of 1989 still stand as the biggest ever at illegal dance parties. 5,000 flyers went to print, and the script read:
Genesis/Biology presents
Future Power People
New Year’s Eve 1989
On New Year’s Eve 1988, Genesis Sunset staged the biggest dance party of its kind in the world. It marked the beginning of a phenomenon which has continued to grow from strength to strength. You, the people, are responsible for this progression from Disco to House, Club to Warehouse, Party to Event, Trend to Way of Life. We dedicate this event to you, the Future Power People. There will never be another 1989, but let us look forward to the forthcoming year with our hands on our hearts and a smile on our faces. So for the very last time this year, prepare yourself for a night of sheer enjoyment. Biology and Genesis salute their members and all party people. ‘Live The Dream.’
Keep tuned to all pirate stations for meeting points to be announced at 9 p.m. sharp. This event is completely FREE, all you need is your car and a road atlas.
Come and Join The Future
We put adverts on all the pirate stations and generated a big buzz among clubbers. This night of all nights, thousands and thousands of people were on the look-out for a massive dance party to attend. Hundreds of promoters rubbed their hands together as the world indulged in a hedonistic 48-hour burst of party mania. Sunrise planned the biggest of the bunch in a venue off the M25.
Although it was a great year for a number of reasons, most clubbers had fallen victim at some point to dodge promoters or the police force closing down parties. Earlier in the year, Jarvis had found a huge warehouse in Slough, previously used as Panasonic’s HQ. We agreed it was time to give something back to revellers and we had organised a free party in the warehouse. The gaf
f was so big that, even with the thousands of people who turned up, it still looked pitifully empty. Jarvis had suggested asking everyone to put a pound each in the kitty towards sound, lights and DJs, who still had to get paid. The production may not have been of the highest standard but, sure enough, there were lights and sound – and we were risking our freedom to stage the party. The Old Bill knew exactly who had organised this unlicensed event, sentences for individuals known to be running illegal gatherings had already been established and captured promoters faced financial ruin, confiscation of their assets and a shit’n’shave in prison.
Jarvis made the announcement over the PA and sent collectors into the crowds with buckets. The punters didn’t respond too well. Some people were throwing tenners and scores into the pot, but when the buckets were brought back to the stage they only contained two or three hundred quid. Considering 7,000 people came to the party, this amount seemed insulting and really pissed Jarvis off. He immediately steamed out of the building and we followed suit soon after. The last punters left at 8 a.m.
Despite this, we had decided to use the warehouse again and throw another free party for New Year’s Eve. Hiring the equipment was hard work: no one wanted to rent us their stuff for fear of the police confiscating it. We convinced some guys to do the job, but had to promise the earth to gain their confidence. The police told the tabloids that they knew of three major events, which they were determined to stop at all costs. We weren’t sure, but we had a good idea that our event was on that list.
South Mimms service station was announced as the meeting point for 9 p.m. Keith, Jarvis and Tarquin (from Weekend World) went to the venue while I drove to the meet. They met the sound and lighting crews at the warehouse and started setting the equipment up. The warehouse was quite dark in places and Tarquin fell down a manhole, cracking a rib on his descent. He probably needed hospital treatment, but there were only two and a half hours left until 1990.
Meanwhile, I reached the arranged meet. The service station was very busy. Clubbers were standing around talking, buying supplies and dancing to car stereos. Everyone was really excited so I asked them to gather round and listen.
‘Right then, the plan for tonight is quite simple. When this car and lorry park are full of cars, we’ll make our way to the venue. You have to keep your eyes on me at all times, I’m the only person who knows where the venue is. I promise you, no matter what happens here tonight this party is definitely on but, to be one hundred per cent sure, we need your full support. You are the future power people, don’t let them take away your right to party. When we reach the warehouse, I want you all to do as I do. We’ll be there before midnight, so don’t worry – tonight is your night.’
Applause rang around the forecourt. The station was getting busier by the minute and within half an hour the car park was full. People kept asking me when it would be time to go, but I wasn’t going anywhere until the lorry park was full. I wanted to have as many vehicles in the convoy as possible. Party revellers sat patiently, near to where I was standing. By 10.30 p.m. the service station was rammed with thousands of keen, smiling faces. Then someone told me the police had blocked both the entrance and exit to the station. I jumped on top of my car.
‘Listen up, everyone, tonight Genesis and Biology are staging the biggest dance party in the world. For this to happen, we’ve got to have you behind us all the way. Let’s start this year how we mean to finish. There are two rules when we get on the motorway: I want all the cars in two lanes; no one overtakes my car, if you do you can fuck off now. We don’t want any accidents, no driving dangerously. When we reach the venue, everyone must park and wait for my orders. Are you ready? It’s party time.’
Everyone was clapping and we got into our cars. My speech had whipped them up into a frenzy and I felt like Moses as a sea of motors parted to let me drive through and head the convoy. At the exit, two police cars blocked our escape. I didn’t slow down as I approached the marked vehicles; the drivers didn’t think I was going to stop and cleared our path.
We sounded our horns as we cruised past them. This got us even more excited: our first encounter had proved successful. My phone had run out of juice so I couldn’t call the boys to let them know I was on my way. The lights of at least a thousand vehicles gave me a feeling of true anarchy. We cared little about anything other than making this New Year’s party happen, no matter what. The government, press, council and law enforcement agencies had warned promoters that the bigger events organised for tonight were going to be stamped out. The great minds had made their move; now it was time for the people to respond.
I heard sirens approaching as six police cars came down the outside lane and slipped in front of us. This couldn’t get much better, I thought: we had a police escort! When it came to our junction the cars tried to stop us from turning off by slowing down to block the exit. It was like a game of chicken: who would lose their bottle first? I wasn’t going to be distracted from driving off at this junction and I think they realised this. We got off the motorway, drove through a series of residential streets and finally arrived outside the warehouse. It was surrounded by an interlocked chain of soldiers and policemen with dogs.
Cars parked everywhere they could and 4,000 people spilt out on to the street. The crowd opened up to let me get to the front. On my way through this human tunnel, I gave them my Braveheart speech, my Zulu-warrior cry, my best shot. I told them that if we didn’t get past the human barrier it wasn’t just over for tonight, it was over, full stop.
By the time I reached the front, my improvised speech had kicked in with the crowd’s state of mind: they were screaming and shouting as we approached the chain from all angles. As we drew closer to the men, they made a tactical retreat. We ran towards the building where the only way in was through a big loading bay with shutters. I climbed up and into the warehouse. At the far end of the building I could see policemen loading our equipment into the vans. We started screaming and the police dropped everything and made their escape.
Jarvis, Keith and Tarquin couldn’t believe we’d turned up just in time. They were jumping up and down, going nutty. The equipment was set up in a matter of minutes, and at midnight 10,000 people screamed, cheered, clapped, jumped and hugged one another at the turn of a new year and a new dawn.
It was an awesome sight: anarchic, though we’re not anarchists. We didn’t originally intend to break into other people’s property and throw huge illegal parties; it’s just that it’s the sort of spontaneous action that can ignite and create a way of life. But the truth is that the whole dance phenomenon was being oppressed. At first the police seemed quite happy to let these gatherings go ahead. They knew they were dealing with trouble-free, non-violent events. Only substantial peer pressure pushed them to their attempts to strangle the party scene.
Word got to us that the Sunrise gig had been cancelled and their whole crew were en route to us. We announced it over the PA system and the crowd went wild. At 2 a.m., 15,000 people had gathered together and were going radio rental. Dancing on the stage with my younger sisters, Teena and Nichola, by my side, I was really glad they were experiencing this breathtaking sight. Someone kept shouting ‘Future power people!’ on the mike. The whole crew was in the house and on the stage dancing to Frankie Knuckles’ ‘Let The Music Use You’.
The hours flew past and, exhausted, I sat down on the stage and somehow fell asleep. I felt someone shaking me and opened my eyes to see two uniformed officers. They asked me if I was OK. I told them I was tired and waiting for a lift home. The officer said I’d better go outside with them, but I sat up and said I was fine. He then said if he caught me sleeping again they’d arrest me! There were still 3,000 people hard at it when I left at 8 a.m.
The police didn’t arrest one single person that night. As we left, the officers wished us a happy New Year and said to drive carefully. For the second year running, we had been part of a joint venture to organise the biggest illegal New Year dance party in the world. It was
like the old days all over again.
FREEDOM TO PARTY
During Genesis’ short but action-packed existence, we’d seen illegal dance parties get firmly established. Now they were a major part of everyday life and not something we were just going to walk away from. They were worth the fight. The draconian new laws aimed against promoters kept the illegal parties underground and meant there was every chance of a full-scale riot if police showed up at the venue.
None of us wanted a war against the government or their foot soldiers. We, more than anyone, knew that the market for dance music and parties could be developed even further if we went legal and distanced ourselves from the dodge promoters who were now running amok among ticket buyers.
When promoters were forced underground, it meant having to deal with unsavoury characters for the protection of your money and your well-being. By 1990, it was getting out of control and we had somehow to legalise the events before someone was seriously hurt, or worse. Out of every ten parties crashed each weekend there would always be one illegal event organised by some dodge promoters out to make a quick buck and ready to do battle with the law. Something needed to be done to turn it back around. The dance nation was disheartened by the rip-off merchants and the threat of violent conflict with the police, which could easily land even the most innocent reveller in court on serious affray charges.
Despite the occasional big event, many started veering back to the nightclub circuit. But the nightclubs closed too early and by 3.30 a.m. there were thousands of people on the streets with nowhere to go. We couldn’t allow the new dance generation to simply fade away without trace. Bollocks to that!
The problem was that licensing restrictions made it almost impossible for organisers to obtain all-night entertainment licences. After the New Year’s Eve gig, Genesis intended to organise no more parties, which left Sunrise, Energy, Biology and a host of others to battle with the councils and apply for late licences.
Class of '88 Page 14
