Every year we sweat a little, moan a lot and animatedly dispute the makings of a Crooked BBQ a few months in advance. This year we aimed high.
We wanted David Rodigan on the decks, catering by Nando's and Dickies garments with our names on. Somewhat improbably, that came to pass for 2010. That's a good thing, because we've been slacking on our 10th anniversary celebrations so far, so this one had to be a good 'un. With Reebok's assistance we managed to make it even grander than last year's carnage. That's no mean feat, because it seems that licensing, noise laws and our past reputation means we seem to need a new venue each time, so we settled on Shoreditch Studios. '01 (with Spine) and '07's events were the most lavish sneaker-related events we've ever attended. '06 and '09's were the most raw thus far. Until this one. It ended messily, in terms of shoes, physical conditions and the sweltering nature of the venue. It was great to see some old faces make a return, plus a new generation of fanatics in attendance. Continuing our tradition of food-related rowdiness, we saw bags of chicken wings hurled into a Peri-Peri fueled mob. Apologies for anyone who never got fed—we estimate that more got fed than last year. Folk were eating pasta salad from their hands at that one.
The DJs smashed it—the Crooked Allstars, Alexander Nut with some classic '90s sounds, Cosmin TRG and Josey Rebelle bringing forth the old school for the second year running. Acyde dropping Rick Ross's 'B.M.F.' and Aaliyah's 'We Need a Resolution' set it off, and then there was man like Rodigan. Rodigan is the man. Seriously, if you don't know, ask your old man. He doesn't do anything by halves, and as ever, even the most familiar tunes turned out to be specials that have secured him many a soundclash victory. Getting site shoutouts from Father Rodigan (plugging Clarks plenty and pleading, "Don't step on mi trainers"
repeatedly) was serious, and the hardcore and utterly annihilated still losing their minds to Gyptian after all these months partied so hard that the venue itself seemed to liquify in response. For some inexplicable reason, the dancefloor was painted with some water soluble paint. Beer and sweat amplified by the fact doors had to shut, and the courtyard closed at 8pm to appease the neighbours meant it was pretty humid in there. Apologies to anyone frantically scrubbing suede this afternoon. And huge, huge apologies to anyone kept waiting outside for a long, long time due to the sheer volume of attendees.
We think we might need a bigger venue next year, and our dream lineup would be Deicide and Araab Muzik performing . That would be classic. We still maintain the Crooked Tongues events have more of a female showing than the manly crowds that sports footwear shindigs have a tendency to attract.
We've got plenty more photos courtesy of the mighty Jeff Metal on the way. Thank you to Ben, Dommy, James, 157 and Linz for setting it off, plus all DJs in attendance. Thank you to all who helped out, blogged, Tweeted, attended and didn't rise up and kick us to death for being kept waiting. Mega props are due to to Reebok, Dickies, Nando's, Singha Beer, Havana Club, Vodka O, SpineTV, TMI and Vice for the support...