The LeftLion office lugholes are partial to a bit of GDC. I first discovered the absolute blinders after clocking them at a festival in Croatia – jaw dropped – and I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a band bring as much energy as these guys do. Without sounding like a patronising wedding planner, it’s a really special experience. Before you know it, you’re sucked into their mad world of sweat-dripping, big beats.
Anyway, downstairs at Spanky’s, the floor was cleared for the utter madness that was about to commence – stage opposite the bar, a separate DJ booth on the side – and the Nottingham populace were having a dance and getting a bit merry to some dub reggae, all laced with our Motormouf’s beatboxing. Fully equipped with top hat and suit, the dapper chap really boosted the bass and dropped some screwface scratches to boot.
The clock struck midnight, and like the beautiful Cinderellas they are, the smartly clad blokes of the night made their way down the Spanky stairs and onto their awaiting stage. Without hesitating, the looming vibrations kicked in and positions were assumed. All the instrumentalists had their white-shirt, black-tie-and-trainers uniform on, and vocalist Jonathon Scratchley made his way down the stairs in his suit jacket, beaming at the crowd.
By now, it was completely rammed. Looking on from the side, it was clear Scratchley is the puppet master of the skankers. Building everyone up into explosive, ramshackle crazies with his fiercely open-wide gob and purposeful, meaty notes, and then simmering the heat with winks and softer tones, he makes for mesmeric watching.
But where GDC are so unique is in the whole band. Every single one of them make eye contact with their fans, pull stupid faces, and generally just grin their tits off. All while thrashing out everything from the most upbeat ska tunes you can’t help but go completely mental to, to the more chilled, reflective reggae beats. You can guarantee an overwhelmed, furrowed brow either way.
We were taken on a journey through their more recent tunes, and onto the final classics that turn everyone batshit; the anthemic, festival music that slaps you across the face and tells you to stop worrying. Bodies at the front lurched into the stage; smoke plumed from the crowd which had become its own twisted entity; the sax and the trumpet rang out; the drummer was having a musical seizure; sweat dripped from every orifice; a collective cat’s chorus sang “If the truth be told, I’m a sucker for the high grade”... Absolutely mental.
It was over before it began, but before the comedown could kick in, Reggae Takeover fired up a few more beats. But there’s no denying I was left feeling a little lovesick. If you ever get chance to see these lads do their thing, snatch it.
Gentleman’s Dub Club played Spanky Van Dykes on Friday 4 December
Reggae Takeover website
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