"Eats Everything" is actually a DJ – And screaming Champagne Supernova off a balcony in Dubai

Event: Eats Everything at Zero Gravity + Afterparty
Venue: Various locations, Dubai

Date: 31 Nov '14

On Friday night I got my dancing shoes on and met a friend to go and see the great English DJ Eats Everything playing live at Zero Gravity. For those who don’t know him, Eats Everything is an actual DJ, and not some overpaid jock-strap who wastes his fans’ time by pressing play then jumping around like a big sissy for 2 hours (Zedd and Guetta spring to mind). Eats Everything does it and he does it right. You can see him doing his thing on the decks, constantly working to beat-match and get everything just right, and then if you have a trained ear you can see and hear the point when he brings the next track in, only stopping occasionally to light a cigarette. Yes – Eats Everything is a DJ in its truest sense of the word.

My friend who will remain nameless for his own protection (you’ll see why later) picked me up at 11 and we reached the general area surrounding Zero Gravity. We ended up in the wrong place, mostly because we weren’t paying attention. I can’t remember what it’s called now but it used to be XL Beach Club, and it was just as bad on Friday as it was when I last visited it as XL 2 years ago. Luckily my friend has a way with club bouncers, and after a few minutes of heated dispute in Arabic, he turned us loose inside and didn’t ask us to pay. This club was so typically Dubai it was cringe-worthy. Flashy, excessively decorated, fake plastic palm trees and fountains, a 20/1 male/female ratio and bar staff that were too busy being dicks to actually do their job and serve anyone. We waited for a drink for 5 minutes then just left and headed over to Zero Gravity.

Zero G is a pleasant change as far as club layouts go. It’s spacious, minimalist, the bartenders actually serve everyone and it has that brilliant outdoor area with the stage. It’s a nightmare for guys who are in relationships with no intention of cheating too. Zero Gravity has, and I shit you not, the best ratio of absolute worldies in one club I’ve ever encountered. I’m not sure what it is – perhaps some ingenious marketing, but I’ve never seen so many beautiful women in one place. If I was single I’d practically live there. The only thing that holds it back in my opinion is the projector behind the bar. Call me picky or whatever, but this projector beams the Zero Gravity logo onto a big plastic parachute hanging above the bar (see the photo), but it’s not centred with the parachute. For people who are borderline OCD like me, this is an absolute nightmare.

We bought drinks – double-fisting, naturally – and headed outside to the stage. We lingered around near the back for a few minutes then headed to the front to dance right next to the speakers and indulge ourselves in a healthy dose of tinnitus, which was totally worth it. I remember turning to my associate and seeing him holding his hand over his right ear, then explaining that with that particular type of chunky bass line, if it’s not doing significant damage to one’s ears, one isn’t listening to it right.

We decided to leave Zero Gravity shortly before the end of Eats Everything’s set (which I should note was among the best I’ve seen since I’ve been in Dubai), and trek over to Barasti for the last hour because I had some friends already there. I jumped in a taxi because my associate was smashed yet still wanted to drive, and we don’t get in the car with drunk drivers, children. Remember that.

Barasti is a beach club with the towers of Dubai Marina on one side and the sandy beach of the Persian Gulf on the other. It is, for all intents and purposes, perfect. It was recently renovated and the skanky old pool on the top level that nobody ever used was filled in and replaced by some much needed extra seating. The only thing holding Barasti back, like most clubs in Dubai and many clubs the world over, is the crowd. It’s not a 100% failure like some other clubs here, but there’s a huge amount of general douche-baggery present. Juiced up Americans and English guys wandering around causing trouble, the occasional Scot chanting sectarian shite (I’m so ashamed to share a nationality with these fiends), Indian dudes getting drunk and leering creepily at women, and those women who wear the bare minimum amount of clothes (not that I’m complaining) and sweet talk dumb guys into buying them drinks only to disappear back to their friends immediately afterwards (yes, I’m complaining about that).

AAAAANYWAY ... We met a bunch of interesting characters, none of whom where my friends who were already there. Truth be told by the time I got there I couldn’t be bothered wandering around for half an hour searching for them, and phoning them was a waste of time because the music was so loud, so I just hung out at the top level bar with the guy I came in with and 2 random Dutch fellas, one of whom claimed to be Scottish even though I heard no trace of a Scottish accent on him. One of them disappeared to chat up some girl, and the remaining “Scottish guy” stood and regaled me with a detailed description of his favourite drug – cocaine. I humoured him out of politeness for about 30 seconds then had to stop him and say, “Dude, I don’t use drugs therefore I don’t care how great cocaine makes you feel”. Awful jackass. It was round about this point that the bouncers came to chuck us out because the club had actually closed already. We drank up, and just when we were about to leave, I spotted a wallet on the floor. Picked it up to check the ID and it was full of cash. I thought to myself, “I’m a relatively responsible citizen. I should return this wallet and its contents to its rightful owner!” So with some squeaky clean karma as my potential reward, I marched up to the security dude at the gate and asked if anyone had reported a missing wallet. As it happens, the guy standing behind him was the owner of said wallet, and he was so impressed by my honesty in returning the wallet and everything in it that he invited my associate and me to an after-party at his apartment. The rest was a blur really, and all I can remember is standing on his balcony with a bunch of people drunkenly singing along to Champagne Supernova. I woke up on his couch the next morning with no memory of how I got there. T’was a good night!

Anyway, that’s all for now. If I could remember more I’d tell you about it. I’ll be back in about 2 weeks with some banter about Kevin Bridges live and Creamfields Abu Dhabi.

Ciao!

*Note to Zero Gravity people - if you’re reading this, pretty please fix the projector before I visit again – I already asked the bar staff twice and they just thought I was a drunken asshole (even though both times I complained I had actually just arrived and was completely sober). Seriously, it drives me crazy. Much love, Mike. :)

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