Drop beats and give me twenty!

Drop Beats Not Bombs

So last Saturday 06/11/10 I ventured down into dark depths of Digbeth to witness the first Drop Beats Not Bombs in what seemed like an eternity, since the last one I attended was way back in 2009 I seem to remember, rather vaguely might I add. Though I was a little weary about attending this one, more so as the venue had made a change from the previous DBNB’s that I know so well, from closing off Adderley Street to closing off Floodgate Street, not a good sign when you plan on getting messy and losing much of your memory for the night ahead.

Anyway I marched on into the war complex like scene, with my troops in tail, and so the exploring commenced. The first sight to be taken in appeared familar, it was a warehouse otherwise known as Space 2, not too busy at this time about 11.30 of an evening.  So onwards we went, across the bridge (not to desimilar to that of a draw bridge used for crossing a moat into the castle grounds) and found an array of white tents, the first Custom Made, to which I was certainly intrigued, we will be back… We continue to march through the tents noticing the very different dancing styles, from hardcore sweaty skanking to chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool, it was certainly an interesting sight. I noticed a bright pink light, as we ventured towards it there was a strong scent of what could be called paint, yes, it was a massive warehouse dedicated to the art of graffiti, pretty awesome vortex style stuffGraffiti.  After much tent experimentation, and sampling the immense ska like band, Royal Gala, in the custom made tent, we desperately wanted to track down Ray Kieth, that’s right the dude from the 90’s, this was going to be the highlight of my evening or late night / early morning to be precise. This was a challenge if I’d ever seen one, eventually I stumbled across the great Boogie Dave, this king of Drop Beats Not Bombs, to which he pointed us in the right direction. Turns out our hatnavs had failed us and we had not noticed the very secret door, through the castle door, back over the draw bridge and to right it was. Leading to the familiar sight of the toilets at the Custard Factory, and there it was, the Medicine bar, and the swimming pool that is not for swimming in, no. Much of our time was spent here, we sampled the noises from Randall, Ray Kieth, Phase 2, PCM, and, Lion Fire, the dancing appeared to be a subtle mix of sweaty skanking and maxing relaxing. Not a minute too soon the daylight drew near and it was time to set off back to our humble abodes and reminisce once again on the very eclectic and wild night of the year that is Drop Beats Not Bombs. I live in the hope that soon it will claw back to the three day biyearly event that it once was, or even the exciting possibility of Summer Camp in 2011, for now though,  I’m content with just one night in an eternity.


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