- Cable is one of London's most recent club additions, and part of a collection of smaller venues being hailed as the way forward for an electronic scene in the capital that has lost a number of clubs over the past few years. Situated within walking distance of London Bridge and the fast-flowing peat coloured waters of the River Thames, its comfortable size makes it easy to flit between three small rooms on different levels with darkly lit private alcoves serving as a perfect place to sit and relax before encountering the intensity of the Nova sound system on the main floor.
Tonight's performance, though, was less about the club and more about the man in it: Producer Charlie May, who was presenting his debut live show. For 20 years, May has hidden in the shadows of dance music, helping out the likes of Sasha and Orbital. But tonight was his night. Said one clubber, "He deserves it. He's spent his whole life building other people's careers."
Photo credit: Shinji Pons
As he took over the reins of the evening, the difference between his sound and his predecessors was startling and obvious. A low rumbling intro kicked things off, pulsing like a throbbing heartbeat until a simple sound broke and shattered into what seemed like a thousand splintering pieces of free-falling glass: Whether it's the playfulness of sound that he contrives and manipulates into tunnelling vortexes or the clean techno beats that kick out under harmonies which exude heat, flow and energy, it's clear that above all else May understands sound.
There were isolated cuts of the chime from "Belfunk" and "Belfast," while other re-edits layered and looped over tougher beats and throbbing kick drums and snares. "Little Bullet" and "Not My Cat" featured as the music euphorically and cleanly lifted in harmony and pace. Everyone I talked with seemed to be here specifically for this debut. A guy stood at the back of the room, and when I beckoned him onto the floor he shyly told me that he's here for Charlie. "I'm just going to stay here and let him enjoy his moment."
Photo credit: Shinji Pons
The intimate crowd of about 120 were laidback, almost cool but not so much that they didn't let go. A girl dressed in cobalt blue lithely danced as her glossed lips and turquoise jewelled pirate's eye patch sparkled against the sprays of coloured light hitting the floor. Barefoot raven-haired Newcastle lasses bounced in exhilaration as a trilby-wearing boy from Brighton coldly stood swigging a beer bottle while a girl whispered in his ear, "I dare you to let go, I double dare you to let go."
Earlier in the year May told me in an interview that "confidence" was what held him back from performing live. But as the lights went up, the chant of "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," resonated around the room. He was basking, smiling broadly and seemed to have finally conquered the nervousness that plagued him for nearly two decades.