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Hideout Festival Day 3

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hideout3.jpgDay 3 saw us pile into a car and drive over to Hotel Pagus to chat to PBR Streetgang and Waifs & Strays (Forthcoming on DTTV). Lunch revolved around the following topics: Boat parties being absolutely essential to Croatia, greasy pizza being absolutely essential to Croatia, eating octopus: moral arguments for and against, and a verified story that Rudimental had so enjoyed their set that they’d got one of the Hideout owners to drunkenly sign a contract on a piece of tissue confirming their slot next year. Several beers later and following an unresolved debate about where the line was between prawns and shrimp, we hopped back in the car and went to Hotel Luna, where Hideout were hosting a VIP invite only pool party. Perhaps 150 or so people were camped around a pool, sunset in the background, as Solomun put down a sunbathing-approved mellow brand of techno. There were several mentions of “This is classy. This could be Ibiza.” Shortly after a drunk girl jumped into the pool and began twerking for a full 8 minutes whilst slowly but surely the entire population of the party produced phones and began filming. She was then joined by a guy who began attempting to mimic. Disgusted, she got out, dried her feet, observed something on her ankle, slipped and fell back in. Not wishing to be out done, a second drunken friend hopped in and instead went for chest bouncing. There was limited response, except for the small unit of elite Croatian girls perched in a corner. “British people….” one started, gesturing with her hands. Our return journey back was shared with Death On The Balcony. The following things were explained enthusiastically to DT:

  • Technically speaking there’s nothing wrong with women with moustaches. It’s surely judgemental to think otherwise. In many ways, the stigma about it flies in the face of political correctness.
  • How do we know Strepsils aren’t laced with acid? 
  • A good way to work out if someone is a decent person or not, is to take Ket, and then speak to them. C*nts don’t float. Sound people float. So you work out who’s not floating around and avoid them at all cost.
  • Our PR floats all the time. So we know she’s cool. In fact, if anything she floats too much. She’s sort of like music-management meets witchcraft. Sometimes I want to hold onto her to stop her flying away.
  • I haven’t slept for a while. 

That night at Aquarius I once again PBR Streetgang opened to a half full crowd and finished to a rammed one. Bonar of the duo celebrated with a few beers backstage. Tom celebrated by donning a bright golden sparky cape, a small T-rex and jumping straight into the crowd. “I really felt it came together nicely up there” he explained calmly as a girl now wearing the golden hood attempted to feed him the T-Rex. Justin Martin at this point took over proceedings, laying down one of DT’s favourite sets of Hideout, with the drop of Tiga vs Audions ‘Let’s Go Dancing’ slamming the crowd straight into top gear, a sea of fist-pumps and tattooed tech-nodding. Ben Pearce swapped in afterward, closing the stage with a well rounded, deeper, techier sound. Today’s Random Fact; Source – a VIP Hostess from Papaya “British people have terrible shoes. I can handle short shorts, man-bags and muscles, but when a guy hits on me in glow-in-the-dark sneakers I’m like fuck-that-mygod.”

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Grahame Farmer

Grahame Farmer’s love affair with electronic music goes back to the mid-90s when he first began to venture into the UK’s beloved rave culture, finding himself interlaced with some of the country’s most seminal club spaces. A trip to dance music’s anointed holy ground of Ibiza in 1997 then cemented his sense of purpose and laid the foundations for what was to come over the next few decades of his marriage to the music industry.

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