I walked into Audio today and welled up a little. 48 hours too soon. It wasn’t the sight of Pidge and Matt or the smell of a club in the daylight that got me. It was thoughts of this weekend and Sundae’s final terrace fling.
Fuck me what a ride it’s been. From my earliest 3pm Escape chill out sets to the wonder that is Audio Pride Sundae come 10pm, it’s been journey of lessons, love and grooves. The Wildblood learnt to grin, the Wildblood learnt to read a crowd and the Wildblood learnt the importance of friends. On and off the dancefloor. The Sundae ones. Stars past and present, be they DJ’s, clubbers or crew, who burned a groove into Brighton’s night sky as they shimmered their way through some glorious house moments.
Oh those house moments. Soulsearcher, Drama, Kim English, Believe, Gadjo, Bodyswerve (oh Bodyswerve!), Daft Punk, Blackwater, Bob Sinclar, Diana Ross, Gladys, Bah Samba, Stevie, G Club, Lola, Love On My Mind, Alison Limerick, those Strings Of Life, a French Kiss and that infamous Jack. A Jack who built the house that the Sundae clubbers lovingly inhabited. A Sundae house that I love.
Sunday Sundae. Rain or shine, flip-flops or knitwear, it’s remained one of Brighton’s most stylish components and I shall miss it. But things must come to an end. And like a old lover you can never truly forget, the grins will remain every time I think of Sundae. I may even find my self blushing. Yes lush – because Sunday Sundae has been the sauciest, funkiest, most joy filled chapter in my clubbing life.
I’ll not forget it. Thank you to everyone who made it possible. xxxx