…to me at least.

10 years ago I used to think that all great things in the music department came from the U.K. It was a magical place where they listened to the kind of music I liked on the mainstream radio. It was a place of almost mythical significance where musical geniuses running the stylistic gamut from the Beatles to Pink Floyd to Underworld and Shpongle conceived and propagated their master works. Fast forward to today, having arrived on my fifth trip to visit our neighbors across the pond and I pretty much still believe every word of it, but with some important caveats and qualifications.

On Friday night we went to a Manchester club called Sankey’s to see one of my last remaining unvisited icons, the Plump DJs. My history with them goes back to the beginning of my fascination with breakbeat just before I made the transition from DJing trance and deep house. First, I starting hearing this mind blowing track and set about to track down it’s author. Then Sean uncovered a BBC Radio 1 Essential Mix by a breakbeat pair named Cut and Paste with a new sort of dynamism that differed from what we were hearing elsewhere at the time. Research revealed the track to be the Plump DJs remix of a tune called ‘Bumper‘ by the Electronaughts and one of the members of Cut and Paste to be from that very same group.

Then one night on the playa in 2001 a poorly aimed psychedelic trajectory missed it’s intended target (DJ Goldilocks) and sent Brian Mahoney and I on a sad and fortunately unsuccessful attempt to find Perry Ferrell. We got lost in a complete white out only to emerge onto a dome in which Freq Nasty was performing. The love affair with breaks was cemented and though the night is heavily idealized for me I clearly remember hearing the Plump DJs remix of Funny Breaks by Orbital for the first time. Archeologists could carbon date the dust collecting on my trance records to this fateful night.

I don’t mean to focus too heavily on their remixes, their original stuff was just as good. When a new Plumps track came out, it was a sure thing. I could buy the 12″ and wait until I got home to hear it because I always knew it was dance floor gold and I was never really disappointed. They were such the undisputed kings of the genre to me that I still refer to them as ‘Their Royal Plumpness’.

Sadly, they NEVER visit the States. I’ve heard immigration problems, drug charges, and other rumors behind their obvious avoidance, but for whatever reason they never come.

So there I was seven or eight years later in line to see them at Sankey’s in Manchester and I tried not to focus on expectations and just enjoy the experience, but there were many obstacles and impediments.

First the venue is laid out like 10:15 Folsom in SF - many little rooms with one slightly larger main room. This is awful when a big headliner plays and everyone wants to be in that one primary area. It’s even worse when - like Giant or 10:15 - they oversell it; we started to be packed like sardines from the word go and I knew it was going to only get worse.

Second, not only were the drinks absurdly priced if you factor in the exchange, but they were ridiculously weak. I shudder to think how much money we spent attempting to get properly intoxicated.

Third, the opening DJs in every room were not playing breaks - as one might expect with a breakbeat headliner - but rather they were playing very bad and monotonous trance. The only break in the transition from mindless, empty motif to mindless, empty motif was completely unabashed and uninspired cheese.

Fourth, the patrons seemed like they were in a completely different dimension from me. They didn’t even try to do much more than bob they’re heads in the dance department (ok, so maybe that made sense in light of the music) and they cheered at completely inexplicable times. When the behavior remained unchanged after the DJ transition I could only conclude that they’d go right along head-bobbing and randomly cheering in the same fashion if the DJs were replaced by amplified washing machines.

So when Plumps finally took over at 2AM they really didn’t need to do much more than not suck to sound incredible by contrast. And they delivered in the not sucking department, the music went from intolerable to above average in the span of 30 seconds and stayed that way for the next hour and a half. Still though, I found myself clock watching. I’m not sure if it was the lingering sobriety, or the unworthy crowd, or the inability to move my arms in an oversold venue, or official end of my fascination with breaks, but the magic was gone. We left before they did.

The whole thing really got me missing the new American music scene building up around the burner community. The music is unrestrained by tempo, and nothing if not the bane of all repetition. The venues are interesting and crowds are the best in the world: creative, compassionate, and for the most part unpretentious.

So yeah, I guess the U.K. still has the genius - I wouldn’t have flown all this way to see Shpongle if they didn’t - but it comes at a price. Good music is too commonplace here for it to be properly appreciated. Instead it’s somewhat commoditized and as a result the music culture that’s built around it is just plain sub par at the moment. It’s enough to make a vagabond like me home sick. Will someone back home please go out to the Edison and shake it all night just so I know the lights are still on?

So we’re sitting at Costa Cafe in Heathrow, the only place open all night. (I recommend it, by the way… they sell free-trade coffee and locally sourced snacks.) Suddenly there is a serious commotion, as the guy sitting at the table across from us starts being seriously harassed by a few men in suits toting radios.  I had noticed him when he sat down- I thought he might be homeless, but less from his dress or mannerisms than from the fact he had a plastic bag with some food in it and too many newspapers. He had been sitting quietly at the table drinking a cup of coffee and reading his newspaper for about 10 minutes when suddenly these two airport guys start telling him he has to leave.  Now, Mike and I have already been here for like 4 hours and have only bought two teas and one sandwich.  If that entitles us to be there all night, I would certainly think that a cup of coffee entitles one to sit in the cafe for at least 30 minutes.

They start yelling, “You’re not traveling, you have no reason to be here.  You have to leave.” He was silent nearly the whole time and basically didn’t speak but refused to move by way of inaction. The poor guy working the cafe was summoned and told never to let this guy in again.  The cafe employee just looked uncomfortable and sympathetic towards the guy.  Mike and I were becoming increasingly upset by this incident as it continued for like 10 minutes. I kept whispering, “But he didn’t do anything.  But he was just sitting there.”  I was watching and he looked at me for a long time.  I felt like there was nothing I could do, so I just tried to give him a sympathetic look.  I came very close to saying to the men that he wasn’t doing anything, but they were on a mission to harass him and kick him out into the freezing and rainy London night and it was clear no one was going to stop them, particularly when they starting shoving him and said they were calling the security (or police, I couldn’t hear which).  That overwhelming sense of helplessness I felt while watching all this was very upsetting.

Recently in Venice, the city was trying to pass an ordinance making it illegal to park your car overnight in several areas near the beach.  This is already preposterous in a place so densely populated with so little parking.  But what is even more irritating is the motivation for the law is to prevent people from sleeping in their cars overnight.  A Food Not Bombs friend recently told me it is already illegal to sleep in your car in parts of Los Angeles.  Why? Your car has to be parked there anyway… who cares if you’re in it or not? How does that really affect the neighborhood you’re in?

The criminalization of homelessness is quite distressing.  It is society’s way of ignoring the fact that our little social contract drawn up by capitalism doesn’t account for everyone in our society.  Some people for various reasons cannot or will not rent or own a home.  Some choose to make the road, their car, their tent, whatever, their home.  Los Angeles and London are their cities as much as they are mine.  Everyone goes on about the “freedom” we have in America.  Why doesn’t that freedom extend to people who are not in the rat tace, and are trying to fend for themselves any way they can?

In Africa, people build their own houses and survive on subsistence farming.  You can’t do that in Los Angeles.  You can’t even use a piece of land because every millimeter of it is owned by the city or a citizen.  You can build a shelter out of trash, but it may be torn down by the authorities.  What choices do you have as a homeless person living in a city?

Most homeless people are mentally ill, and they need treatment… not harassment by police.  Many are drug addicts- ditto. Some need help finding homes, some prefer to be on the street.  What I find offensive is the fact that you can’t just hang out on an empty street all night long if that’s your only choice for the night… much less in a cafe where you have just bought a cup of coffee.  I am not saying you should be able to harass others- but if you are minding your own business, why is it a crime to not have a home to go to? I say this as a person who has recently lived in Venice for two years and worked in Hollywood and encountered many homeless people every single day.  Guess what?  The vast majority of them left me completely alone- not even asking for change.  Some I even had pleasant conversations with.

Why is it that in our quest for The American Dream we have become so caught up in acquiring wealth (home, car, stuff) that we forget to see our fellow citizens for what they are- human beings that deserve a basic level of respect and kindness?  As a society we have demonized not owning or renting a dwelling so much that we automatically disregard anyone who doesn’t (or can’t) subscribe to that ideal as unworthy of our time, effort or respect. If you’re not in the rat race, you don’t get to be treated as a human. Maybe I’m relating to these folks more because I don’t actually have a permanent home now, even though I have places to stay.

Wasn’t Jesus homeless?