Dragon-i was a hot mess on their sixth birthday. Kind of like my sixth birthday party. Everybody and their mother went there for Jamiroquai and Danny Rampling, both on the same night. When I walked in with my fierce Danish stylista friend Kiva, 29 paparazzi flashlights flared in our faces. I was a bit disorientated, especially with the exciting new layout on the terrace, resplendent with balloons. It did feel awfully festive and special. Mordor (our pet name for D-i) isn’t usually like that.

And dayum was it packed. Even people who weren’t VIP enough to get a table were territorial about where they were standing, pushing everyone around. Loved it. Sir David Attenborough would have a field day. Me, I just left my concept of personal space at the door. I watched Jamiroquai’s electrifying performance on the screen, on the other side of the club from where he was. That’s fine. Felt like I was backstage. Dean said it was near impossible to see Jamiroquai stage-side. The lights were glaring, everyone’s in the way. I thoroughly enjoyed the show. It’s not everyday that you get English acid jazz soul/funk dominating the dance floors in our town. I must say, I do bust the move like Jay Kay, and I have to brag that I’ve danced with him before.

Six or seven years ago at Drop (Mordor wasn’t even open then),
I was totally mirroring Jamiroquai’s moves, pulling shapes, and I guess
I got just a tad bit too close to Jay Kay’s body—like tango-level close—and his big bodyguard of African ancestry grabbed me by the waist, lifted me up, and deposited me halfway across the dance floor. “Give the man some room,” he bellowed. It was hot...

And then, just like a dream, he was done. Four songs. And then he left. So did most people. Never mind that Danny Rampling, one of the hottest house DJs on the face of the earth, was playing next. Even so, after a while we retreated to Cliq, where a more cultured event was happening, the French Cinepanorama and Alliance Française presenting Wax Tailor, with his unique brand of French trip-hop.   There was a flautist on stage with him. Aah, reminds me of the times we used to perform at clubs... Maybe Kulu and us Platinum UltraLounge Raptors should move to Paris, where our tortured music can be appreciated by a more sophisticated audience. We drank our vodkas in the relative quietude of Cliq before heading to more madness at Hed Kandi.

And guess who I keep seeing at all the parties—no, not Nick Willsher, Nick Willsher’s younger brother! Yes, I saw him at that lovely Baccarat event at MO Bar on Thursday night. And then he was at D-i. And then he was at JJ’s for Hed Kandi. And then no, he wasn’t at Volume’s anniversary mega-party last week—Manek’s little brother was. Holding court in the VIP section.

Speaking of which, it just warms the cockles of my heart to know that someone from our local gay community can make some music and reprazent. Evan Steer, aka DJ Stonedog—the mastermind behind Volume—was brandishing the hard-earned cash he earned from the CD sales and live performance of his house oeuvre “Rainbows.“ He squealed, “I’m a real recording artist now!” Congratulations, dahling.
Anywhore, it’s nice to see the older generation pass on the baton. The rest of us are really too old for this shit. Alas, I have no little brother or sister to pass down my scepter to. I’m a spoiled only child. I need a protégé. Protégés please write to the email below and apply. Remember to attach your curriculum vitae and Facebook details.