Not that I am a believer in escapism as a formof recreation, as much as somewould believe, but my absencefrom last months issue was duein part to my disappearancefrom Windsor for a weekend ortwo. Oddly enough, in my pur-suit of some of my more pre-ferred Detroit stylin' d.j.'s, Ifound myself on the shores oflake Ontario in our province'scapital sitting in an abandonedclub which now sports a smallstove, a shower stall and threelovely lady Motown d.j.'s.

I've been to parties allover the world; in super clubs,lounges, out of doors and in olddungeons, but for pure socialpursuit, nothing beats the loft.There is a certain intimacy ofattending such an exclusiveevent, and unless your abilitiesto misread situations are meas-ured on a Geiger counter (whichis probably not the case if you'reat a loft party in the first place),everyone else around you isthere for the same reason.Rolling in early with my crewinto a less than inviting facadeof a Danforth area building inToronto, we became the 'dons'of the couch for the rest of thenight. An important piece of fur-niture was what we became.

Our comfort in thespace soon turned into confi-dence as drinks poured and con-versation ensued; on severalseparate occasions, I can recallbeing a participant in the con-coctions of social minded art theme camps in upcomingmusic festivals; a walking part-ner down the roads and avenuesof memories past with old raveguys and gals I've never evenconsidered existed outside ofthe rave space; a heated debaterin the field of house music ver-sus techno; and even somewhatof a consultant for battle plansinvolving Canadian involve-ment in this year's Detroit

Electronic Music Festival. I've said it before and I'll say itagain, in a place where anythingcan happen, everything willhappen. Hell, I even played the

role of the d.j., for, like thirty minutes.

But alas, outgunnedwas I, for the real treats of thenight were three sirens givenrecord playing brought suchvibrance out of vinyl, I don'teven recall there being a secondfloor of the party. An eclecticblend of deep house, techno anddown and dirty funky electrosynth lines and beeps and clicksmade for what I've been craving.It was presented to me in sort ofan ironic situation; what I havebeen craving in Windsor butcouldn't find. I had to go toToronto to find, but oddlyenough being performed byd.j.'s from Windsor and Detroit!(and I suppose them being of thefairer sex, they happen to comeacross just as easy to watch asthey were to listen to).

First to bang out thebeats, and my invite to the jam,was Miss Tek (a.k.a. TracyCollins), who's high fashionsense and delicate demurebetray her viciousness on thedecks. The tight and sharp acidbeats and the fully digitizedinstrumentation was her ammoand she was firing off roundslike she was going to war... in amanner of speaking. It was ener-gizing to say the least.

Then on came the hostof the party, whose deep houseand tech stylings obviously hadthis author more than just a littlecaptivated. Sara Scruton, part ofthe Logixhouse bunch and whowas also gracious enough tohave all of us squatters over,used to bring the beats to Room213 and Eros before theirdemise. She played out a set in anice contrast to Miss Tek's, witheffortlessly smooth transitionsof rolling basslines and subtlemelodies which shaded the loftin warm overtones of yellowand red. It seemed for a minutethat whole place was lit by can-dlelight. I don't quite recall what I was doing at that point, but it

seemed easier.And the last siren out

of my epic was Detroit based theHouse PR's Jan D, who's bizarrefancy can be described as 'elec-tro-soul'. An eclectic mix ofDetroit styled techno chops andhousey blends to far off placesas Holland and their groove, tounderground and 'Italo-disco',miss D. was definitely unex-pected. Dressed to get-getdown, she honoured our pres-ence by playing two back-to-back sets that night, firstupstairs and then an encore forus in the lower level. We refusedto relinquish power over thesofa. As soon as I heard'Freakazoid' mixed and choppedin, this author was definitelyoverwhelmed with a sense ofsass, grace, and a little humour,of course.

I suppose no night everlasts forever, and this one even-tually ended. The enthusiasmand energy we had strolled inwith had somehow escaped inbetween the cushions of thecouch we had so zealously con-cealed with our bodies. Myshoes had refused to dance any-more, but that discursive natureof electronic music I alwaysprofess had finally come topractice for this author, havingleft with more friends than I hadcome in with, and a more pro-found love for the beat. Themusic in that place, at that time,wasn't played at or to me, butwith me and everyone else, andwe played it in turn to eachother.

Sara Scruton and herinfo can be found and booked onthe Logixhouse website:www.loqixhouse.com and canbe heard, along with Miss Tekevery Sunday from 6-8pm atwww.twelveinch.com live play-ing their brand of border citybeats of techno and house. JanD and her stuff resides on theweb at www.thehouseofpr.com.

WINDSORVOX MAGAZINE MARCH 2003 V. 2. 2 9

loft-estory & photo by francis wong