Chido.

That’s the best way to describe DJ Toy Selectah‘s hour long session at the Harley.

It was another chilly night in Sheffield and The Harley was half empty. But then again, it was just ten pm and the place usually packs when the other places are closed and the young punters need to keep gettin’ smashed up.

A few gin and tonics were in order, surely. The usual goons that haunt the place on Friday nights were around, then suddenly, quite a few people I know only from afar started to arrive. I moseyed down to listen to their conversations, mostly centred  on getting some Mexican music around here for a change.

Time passed, and alcohol, both legally and not so legally purchased was consumed in copious quantities. A first unlucky DJ played a few songs. The hard, unloving curse of an opening act was bestowed on his performance. Then Toy Selectah approached the console and started to plug around all his dohickeys and cables.

A lonely, half drunk British fella asked a few persons around “Why are not dancing? Eh? Why is that?”. His enquiries were soon answered, as the first mixes of salsa and electronica (raveaton?) started to emanate from Toy Selectah‘s box of music delights.

As if its tongue were on fire, The Harley transmogrified itself into any old, dank, Mexican club with no fire exits and adulterated alcohol. The familiar dance poses and yells were a reminder of a time and place long gone (about a year and three months, if memory serves well).

Locals were perplexed. “What is this strange aural concatenation we’re listening and why are those lunatics waving a big Mexican flag?”.

This reviewer was even more perplexed, perhaps even shellshocked when that BANE of party music, that unmissable song of every single party he’s been at in Mexico, reared its ugly head, even if on a remix. Still, the Mexican fans yelled “no pare, SIGUE SIGUE!” until the cows came home.

Fair enough.

Some joined in, others kept their distance, maybe just ogling at the girls doing dances akin to nature’s mating rituals (i hate myself for doing that analogy) and sipping some of their alcohol, passing time until the next DJ would change the rhythm into some seedy dubstep that although good, it didn’t clicked with the impromptu dancing mob.

Besides scaring the local goons a little (some of the faces were of absolute befuddlement with Toy’s musical choices), Toy Selectah managed to make a very energetic mob of Mexicans miss Mexico a little less. The choice of closing song (a salsa/cumbia reworking of Control Machete’s ‘Comprendes Mendes‘) was a perfect touch to a night of DJs doing what they know best.

Postscript:

Toy was kind enough to talk with some of the fans at the end and mentioned that there’s a few of his mixes floating around on the web. Here’s one of them. Grab it and enjoy.