Entry No. 1 - Captain Black Sound Storm, 'Labyrinth', Krasnoyarsk, 27 November 2004

This was the first of my Captain Black Sound Storm gigs, Captain Black, for those who perhaps don't know, being a brand of cigarettes and cigarillos. I boarded the plane in Moscow with Lena and Olga from the organizing agency AMS, arriving in Krasnoyarsk more than four hours later. The weather there was what you might expect of a Siberia - a raging blizzard - but that didn't stop the airport authorities making us wait half an hour outside in the intense cold before they were good enough to open the doors to the baggage-reclaim room. First impressions through the floor, thankfully things only got better.

After a snooze at the hotel we were heading for 'Labyrinth' - said to be the best club in the city. And who am I to doubt it? It was more a leisure complex than just a club, incorporating bowling, restaurants, cinema, arcade games and pool tables, and all decked out rather swishly, as if expense had been no object. The club was no exception, made even better for the solid sound system. Local resident DJ - DJ Martin (big shout out - the friendliest, most fun DJ I have ever met!) - got things going early doors with some pumping Latin-style house and slowly but surely in came the punters. The crowd was young (late teens, early twenties) and about 90% female, so no complaints there.

Lumbering up to the decks around 2am I got stuck into the more light-hearted side of House to start off with - vocals and catchy tunes; but no cheese. There are (incredible) credible tunes out there to rock a non-puritan dancefloor. Cheese is not obligatory. Maintaining the fattest basslines, using well-produced tracks, and dropping in remixes of well-known vocal tracks kept things lively on the floor. Occasionally veering off into UK-Garage land, then back for some dark and pumping Progressive (conceivable only due to a handy dreamy female vocal over the top), then on to more uptempo, funkier tracks to keep the variation and prevent dancefloor fall-out.

Towards the end of my set I realized I'd had one too many pints of lager. Stumbling out of the DJ booth to let Martin take up the reins again, I have been told I disappeared into the dressing room where all the dancers were. An hour later, I emerged in a state kindly described as 'lashed'. Of what happened during that hour in the dressing room I have no recollection. Still to this day - a mystery.

In said lashed state I went on to lose my passport. Didn't think much of it at the time, but then someone reminded me that my plane was in three hours. Eek. After much frantic searching, the passport didn't turn up. In the end it was thanks to Olga & Lena that I somehow got on that plane. Quite how I don't know.

All in all - a great gig. The crowd was dancing all night and responded to the tunes with fists in the air, whistling and shouting. It feels so good when that happens. You've done your job properly. That saved my bacon really when it came to 'justification' for my indiscretions after my set :-) Indeed, after the 'lashed' experience, upon return to Moscow with one stinker of a hangover, I decided to learn from my mistakes: No more lager supping going unchecked mid-set, and no more post-set dressing room adventures. See whether these resolutions were broken or not in the next installment of Travelling DJ Diary - Next town - Noginsk, Moscow Region.

Entry No. 2 - 'Torpedo', Noginsk, Moscow Region

With no sponsor this time, got picked up in a car in Moscow with NRGSOUND head honcho DJ Andrey Energy (www.nrgsound.ru). An hour later we arrived at the club Torpedo on the outskirts of Noginsk. Mid-sized club with the DJ booth about two storeys up above the dancefloor -reminiscent of Back to Basics in Leeds; all very good being a good distance from the floor in terms of concentration, but you can hardly feel the pulse of the crowd up there. Hmmm.

Straight away we got on really well with the friendly resident DJs and local promoters - young, energetic, and lacking the know-it-all 'we're so cool' BS. Nice. Andrey NRG went on first at about 1am and surprised me with his ultra dark and hard Prog set @ 136 bpm! Respect for trying something different there :-)

Climbing up the vertical ladder two hours later was yours truly, this time sticking to the Evian. At first I tried something a little less intense and more melodic than Andrey's set, while being no less danceable, thinking that the floor might want a break from the intensity. WRONG. Oops, bad plan. So it was a quick diversion back to the hard, dark pumping tracks. Can't grumble - such music is I think my fave style; I just get a bit unsure it's not all too monotonous after half an hour. I always think something peak-time but not so dark and hard would go down a treat amid such sets - but I didn't want to take any chances tonight. It seemed that the harder I played, the happier the floor. Why fix it if it ain't broke? Towards the end of my ever-spiralling upwards (hardness) set I moved into techno territory, finishing with some classic old-school acid (Bang the Acid, Ego Acid, Joey Beltram:).

Very pleased with the club, the crowd, the response, decided to chill a bit post-set. It was the club's first birthday do so we cracked out the champers in the back-room and chatted the night away with the locals. You can see the pics in the gallery section.

Come daybreak it was back to Moscow with a surprisingly rude driver. Perhaps he was head of security or something and had the ego to go with it and we didn't show enough respect. I dozed all the way home though, so he didn't spoil the good post-party vibes :-)

Entry No. 3 - 'Grand Michel', Saratov (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Back with sponsor Captain Black, it was a quick flight to the historic town of Saratov on the banks of the river Volga, with AMS organisers Lena & Olga again. The plane was so small the only steward simply spoke the emergency instructions to us - no Tannoys or pre-recorded messages. And though illegal, the pilots were smoking (foul-smelling) cigarettes all the way in the pilot's cabin.

Arriving in a freezing Saratov, it was off to the hotel Volga for the night. The next day Lena & Olga were setting things up at the club so I took a stroll round the town centre. After half an hour I realized it was far too cold for strolls, so it was back to the hotel to, erm, read a book.

Come evening we had a meal at a restaurant which was incredibly cheap compared to Moscow prices. Finally it was to the club. Another very swish affair, like in Krasnoyarsk. Not a penny spared on the fancy interior decor, and again, bowling, billiards, restaurants, etc., etc. The club is themed after a certain French hussar who apparently settled here centuries ago.

The club's long-time resident DJ - DJ Nemytin - kicked off with commercial house tracks. He told me I should follow suit as anything too hard or deep or dark wouldn't work on the floor. But I simply won't - can't - play commercial house. To me, it's just not right. I played the more accessible tunes in my bag to start with and they seemed to go down well. But as I upped the tempo and hardness, they floor responded even better. It was fists in the air all the way up to the top floor of dance music - techno. The moral of the story - either (i) never listen to resident DJs as to what should be played, or (ii) if taken up through the floors slowly but surely, even the most non-House-purist, pop-tastic of crowds can get into the groove of tougher, banging tracks.

As usual the professional dancers on the stage were very good and also helped give the floor energy and momentum. This time however it was no post-set shenanigans in the back with them. Still taking it easy on the booze after the Krasnoyarsk fiasco, it was a few chamomile teas while watching the bowling with Lena, before heading off to the station to board the train for the overnight journey back to Moscow. Lena & Olga had an SV compartment to themselves, while I was in with a charming lady called Diana travelling from Perm in the Urals. She worked for some political research institute or something, so we chewed the fat into the wee hours on such topics as Putin's authoritarianism and the alleged anti-Russia/Putin bias in the Western media. Such conversation must have acted as a rather excellent lullaby as I don't recall falling asleep, and wasn't woken up as usual during the night by the inevitable clanging of carriages.

Gladly rising without a hangover from an overnight train journey - a new experience in itself - it was farewells and business card exchanging with Diana, and onto the metro back home.

NB You, the reader, may be a serious DJ who never smiles, is ultra-cool and trendy, and who scoffs at the above and other Travelling DJ Diary entries as being too trivial and off-point (if you're not such a person, er, read no further). I have already had some comments from the likes of you. Well, if you think that, you can simply not bother reading these pages, obviously. Please don't. And as a return 'diss' to you lot: lighten-up. The quality of your DJing doesn't improve by being moody, or thinking your so damn cool, or that you know better than every other DJ, or have been doing it longer. It reminds me of a certain 'big-name' Moscow DJ. When I remarked that there appeared to be no DJ monitor @ Amsterdam Club in Moscow (a DJ monitor is always better than no DJ monitor), he replied in full seriousness that he didn't need a monitor, as he'd being DJing so long. Or could it be me who rates modesty too highly? No doubt.

Entry No. 4 - Korona, Volgograd - 18 December, 2004 (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Due to those pre-Christmas vibes coming on b, I was looking forward to this trip, intending to enjoy it to the full. And indeed I did.

Due to arriving at the club during the day and seeing it utterly filthy after the previous night's R'n'B shindig, I was at first somewhat appalled that such a stylish sponsorship-tour of Russia had reached such depraved corners of civilization as this - a dismal hellhole of a place. But then I have a pathological aversion to dirty places, and I think this caused my initial horror, because when arriving later that night the place was spick and span, and my pathological issues magically gone. Phew.

The general feel of the place was of a younger, less pretentious crowd, good sound, hard music. The latter aspect I liked most of all and because of it I was looking forward to a satisfying set.

One surprising thing was that I was assigned a bodyguard for the whole night. That meant I was to be escorted by Kolya - an intimidating colossus of a bloke, but most pleasant once you get to know him - every time needed to slip off to the gents'. As I like a few ales during my sets this later turned out to be a logistical nightmare. Funnily enough though, that 'nightmare' turned into a logistical mega-laugh as the night wore on, no doubt due to steady notching-up of aforementioned ales J. But I digress.

As the warm-up DJ had performed no warm-up function whatsoever, I plunged straight into the tougher pumping tracks to maintain momentum. From then on I simply meandered between hard and softer/more melodic tunes throughout the whole of my set. In some ways I prefer this approach to the gentle-build approach; it's more dynamic, there's less dancefloor inertia and it keeps things interesting - for the floor and myself. Also, contrasts get pronounced between tracks of different styles - only a good thing in my book.

Very pleased with my three-hour set, I let the resident DJ take the decks again and give me a rest. Chilled and chatted with clubbers and the Captain Black casting girls. Then it was back to the hotel for about an hour's kip, then back to the airport for the sombre flight back to Moscow (beers + no sleep = death-like cocktail, as I'm sure you all know). Once back to Moscow it was straight out for an all-dayer pre-Christmas brunch and pub crawl with British, Dutch, Finnish and Russian hard-drinking pals. No better way to wind-down after an all-nighter in Volgograd, wouldn't you say?

All in all, another successful gig. Check here soon for the next installment of Travelling DJ Diary - Aura Club, Samara.

Entry No. 5 - 'Aura', Samara (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Back again with Captain Black Sound Storm into the New Year, it was a quick flight to Samara with AMS (agency) head honcho Leo & one of his young minions, Rita, a girl of few words.

During the day, after having quickly checked the club out and being pleased with what we saw (very swish, lots of money thrown at it, good sound), it was back to the hotel for a few quiet pints and a good chat with Leo in the lobby bar. Then a few hours' kip, and then off to the club. Once there we were left to just wander about - no drinks, no food, no table set, no back room to chill in, no nothing. Trying to offset this slight to our egos, Leo and I headed to the bar but were again met with bad vibes. Only a raised voice finally got us a drink. Cheers organisers!

A while later, Ivan, the club's promoter/art director showed up - a larger-than-life character in designer clothes. Sat with him at our table and enjoyed a superb dinner while the club slowly filled-up. Finally it was my turn to get up onto the decks (dislike pre-set hours in clubs - prefer to just get on with it). As the crowd was young and once again mainly female, I stuck to large dancefloor-friendly House tunes with vocals and lots of new remixes of old well-known tracks, with an occasional hard Prog. pumper to liven things up a bit for the terrace.

After my set it was drinkies time again and a smoke of an Arabian water pipe with the local distributor of Captain Black products. Then Ivan showed me around the back room, which he is justifiably proud of, where there were bikini-clad dancers on the bar and an eclectic mix of Samara's over-thirty clubbers. As always after a set, felt fairly jaded and not all that chatty, so decided to return to the decks and do a back-to-back jam with resident DJ Ostry. Rita finally dragged me off the decks an hour later and it was back to the hotel. As per usual, up after just a couple of hours sleep, it was off to the airport and back to Moscow.

In all, the gig itself went very well. The clubbers liked the music and danced all night. One thing I didn't like was being reminded all the time about the marketing aspect to the whole event. In some people's eyes, clubs are just a means of promoting products. Fine, whatever - hey - it gets me gigs, so why not? But to have it in my face all the time, something just didn't feel right. DJs need to take their music seriously, as art, if you can call it that, and not give a damn about the commercial/ business aspect. That's someone else's job.

Entry No. 6 - 'Kosmos', Voronezh (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Quick flight to this city to the south of Moscow.  Straight to the hotel with six hours to kill so read a book.  V. dull.  Tried sleeping but as soon as the curtains were drawn the ubiquitous 'remont' (building repairs/refurbishment) started up.  Calls to reception proved in vain.

Come the evening it was off to Kosmos.  Not much from the outside but inside was rather satisfactory.  Good sound, lights, and friendly local DJs.  Having to extract myself from the VIP room where the local distributors of Captain Black where becoming increasingly insistent on every-five-minute vodka toasts, I headed to safer shores - well, the DJ booth.

The crowd was young and appeared not greatly into "House" and all its intricacies, so I started with dancy vocal tracks.  That seemed to go down well so continued in that vain for the next four hours with the usual meanderings into Prog., Tech, Electro, even hip-hop - I "Dropped It Like It's Hot" in fact.  The monitor in the booth turned out to be very weak with the whole system's volume cranked up and I had some bother keeping the mixes 100% tight.  Fellow DJs may scoff at this but I refuse to let that bother me.  One can find numerous examples of not-so-tight mixes among the heavyweight pros out there.  So long as there are no major tempo mix-ups you're fine in my book.  I know too many DJs who think if they can mix great that's the job done.  What they actually play (e.g., the latest Electro-House hits), is of secondary importance.  There's nothing I disagree with more in the world than that.  But I digress:

After my set it was back to the hotel after a bit of a boogie and a chat with the dancers backstage, and not much later it was back to the airport.  All in all, as is happily becoming increasingly the norm with these Captain Black Sound Storms, another successful gig.  Punters happy, so me happy :).

Tune in for the next Travelling DJ Diary - next town - Kazan.

Entry No. 7 - 'Doctor,' Kazan (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Another short flight, this time to the ancient city of Kazan.  My third visit to the town, having played at Doctor before through bogus promoters (who pretended DJ Loud who played before me was Italian, flown in specially for the gig, despite his being Moscow born & bred), and at 'Pyramid.'  My recollections of Doctor weren't all that positive as I remembered a rather non-responsive crowd who only really seemed to enjoy the poppy 'kolbassa' (literally, 'sausage', metaphorically, 'pumping, throw-away, trancey kiddie crap') tunes of the DJ first on.

This time things were completely different, thankfully.  Thanks to the Captain Black/AMS promotion in the city before the gig, the club started filling up with incredibly stylish and trendy young folk who would put Moscow's fashion-following clubbers to shame.  The club by midnight was packed and it's not a small club, so the atmosphere was rather spesh.  Taking over from the local DJ who played pure House, I shifted up a gear and added some funky Electro-House jackin' tracks.  As per usual I mixed in bits of Prog and: anything else that rocks really (if it ain't broke:) and the dancefloor was heaving and bouncing just nice.

As an attempt to show the abstinent-with-attitude AMS organizers that I am able to perform without a drop of the beer, I decided to do this set sober.  Never again.  Without a few beers inside it's simply impossible getting "in the zone".  Even your fave tracks become your worst enemies.  They don't sound right, they're not pumping enough, they've no groove at all, they're rubbish, House music is all rubbish, these clubbers are crazy to dance to this, this club's bogus, the world is a terrible place, and so on.  Get the picture?  To be good at any art form I think you have to be a bit bonkers in the first place, or you've got to get a bit nearer that bonkers grey-area by having a few drinks or whatever and letting creative emotions/feelings come to the fore, logic to the back.  Or something like that.  Best stop there.  Never was good at explaining things:

Now I'm not condoning having a skinful - that only impairs the quality of (a) your selection, and (b) your mixing; i.e., the two most important things for a DJ to get right.  So that is clearly a no-no.  I'm referring more to the immortal Withnail line: "no officer, I've only had a few ales".  Or as poet extraordinaire Yours Truly would put it, "a few will do."

After my set I decided to get off the unhappy wagon fast so ordered a cold bottle of beer.  While sitting enjoying said beer and chatting with 'my security', I heard the DJ switch to R'n'B and hip-hop.  A welcome pleasant change from House at least.  But things got a lot better when some black pro basketball players from the US who play for the local (successful, I hear) team got up to rap over instrumental's of 50 Cent and Usher.  And they were great!  Expletives galore, grabbing of genitalia, and much wrist-bending with arms in the air as is the fashion - they went down a treat.  No one understood a word of what they were banging on about, but that clearly didn't matter.

Another success.  Indeed, the best Captain Black Sound Storm to date.  Will the Urals city of Ufa, up next, be better?  Find out in the next installment of 'Travelling DJ Diary'.

Entry No. 8 - 'Prospect,' Ufa (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Having played in Ufa a few times before and having one of my best ever gigs at the club 'Element' there, I was looking forward to getting back to this city - just this side of the Urals.

But where Element was so underground you thought you were on the London tube (ba-boom), this was a Captain Black Sound Storm gig - more mainstream.  Not to worry though.  I enjoy any gig as long as I'm deciding what to put on (bogus prescriptions for Latino House, Disco-House or other such genres I really can not be doing with have been known in the past - ugh; all ignored, naturally).  There are loads of great vocal tracks out there that really rock and that aren't totally cheesy.  Most of my current faves are vocal tracks (e.g., Miss Ketty - Don't You Want My Love; Afrika Bambaataa/Gary Numan - Metal; Usher/Sander Kleinenberg - Caught Up).  Ok, a night of deep Prog can be more satisfying, where the pressure is off to select only the banging-est peak-timers, but (a) you need a very "in-the-know" crowd to pull it off - so no one "doesn't get it", (b) of late, I do believe Prog may be becoming a bit worn as a genre (no, I can't believe that I - Prog Bastion - am saying that either), and (c) Prog can be all doom-and-gloom and too intense - the "Techno Disease."

So, as a digression - Prog: discuss.  "It's rather samey."  But you could say the same for all the other genres, especially Techno, Psychedelic Trance, Deep House:  Even guitar bands.  Like in the film '9 Songs'.  All those bands at the Brixton Academy - they all sounded the same.  My conclusion?  Go easy with the "it all sounds the same" dictum.  Seek out fresh talent to prove it wrong - Roman Lieske, James Holden; seek out new fatter sounds (Kleinenberg's recent remixes); and perhaps most importantly - don't think that the latest trendy genres - currently Acid House and Electro-House - are anything new, compared to, say, Prog.  They are less so.  They're like TV repeats.  Whereas the genres that never went away - they're still around for a reason.  So, I don't think Prog is waning after all.  Phew.

Back to Prospect in Ufa - the club was another in the series where seemingly unlimited funds have been ploughed into the design, build and facilities of the club.  It appeared however that less was spent on the sound system than on the fancy adjoining restaurant.  Irritating rattles and buzzes galore, but never mind.  The club's engineers did a good job at minimizing these.

After discovering the warm-up DJ rummaging through record bag for my CDs and copying them on his computer (!) I was on stage and into it.  The crowd enjoyed, so I did.  Lots of shouting, whistling, whooping and screaming and lots of sweaty bodies packing out the 'floor.  Perfect.  A great success.

Walking back to the hotel round the corner, Rita from the organizing agency decided my set was too long (even though how long my set should be has never been an issue, or even discussed), and had a dig re. this.  Being rather "well-oiled" by this time of the morning, in return I unleashed a no-holds barred tirade upon the girl, enlightening her on the finer points of her (bang-out-of-order) indiscretions.  She duly responded, like with like, and we ended up having a shouting match for a good ten minutes.  Haven't had that in ages.  Wouldn't have minded if I had been naughty - knocked the decks over, wet myself or passed out - but I, er, played three hours instead of two.  WHAT?

Having an hour to kill back at the hotel, I headed to the bar where I met two guys and a girl, well-thrashed, with whom I chewed the fat and had a couple of early-morning beers.  Topics of conversation included Russian girls, Russian vodka, the Russian president, British girls, why I'm in Russia.  The usual sort of thing.

A while later it was back to the airport and to Moscow.  Another good gig.  Will the next one be as good?  Find out in the next chapter of Travelling DJ Diary.  Next town - Yaroslavl.

Entry No. 9 - 'Metro Fashion Cafe,' Yaroslavl (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Having played in Yaroslavl some years ago and been a bit put-off by the overly raucous, footbally crowd (at the club Avant-Garde), it was no doubt thanks again to the Captain Black Sound Storm crew's organizational skills that this gig was a just the opposite of the my earlier experiences here.

The club itself - themed around the Moscow metro (??) - may be small but I think calling it a cafe is selling it a little short.  For me though the main things were in place - good sound, good set-up in the booth, good lighting.

Having got acquainted with the friendly local distributors of Captain Black products I sat with them for a good few hours as the DJ on before me was warming things up.  After a few pints and a few vodka chasers, a thoroughly satisfying meal and an equally satisfying interview with a charming girl from the local press, it was into the booth, which incidentally is made out of a Moscow Metro wagon, making me look like the driver.

As the dancefloor was fairly small, things hotted-up fairly quickly, so it was straight in to the peak-timers with no steady build-up.  Took it up to Techno towards the end too and everyone seemed happier for it.

During my set, an old pal whom I knew in Moscow - Artyom - turns up out of the blue.  Hadn't seen him in years.  Small old world, etc., but he is actually from Yaroslavl originally.  Still.  So, after I'd finished, having told the organizers I'd see them back at the hotel at 6am to get back to the airport, it was off with Arytom and his girlfriend and another girl for a nighttime walkabout around Yaroslavl.  We were accompanied at first by the aforementioned Captain Black distributors, but due to their impossibly drunk state we thought it better to cordially part ways.

After much discussion of many a topic, from destiny and dreams, to sexual orientation and holiday destinations, and after putting the world to right five times over and rather a lot of strolling about, we arrived back at the hotel and it was farewell to Artyom & Co.  Many a DJ at this point would have asked the second girl (i.e., not Arytom's girlfriend!) up to his room "for a coffee" or something.  I refrained.  I won't bore you with the reasons:

A few hours later in Domodedovo Airport I discovered I'd been abandoned by the organizers Olga and Rita!  Literally!  Some bogus story SMS'd to me that their friend had picked them up and she was a bad driver so couldn't take me home, and the agency wasn't sending a car as usual.  How infantile can we get girls?  I could of course have had a word with these sorry females' boss, but was it worth giving one more second of my time to such trivial nonsense?  A few days later Rita left the agency anyway, and I don't think Olga would have done such a daft thing on her own, so that sorted that out, in a way.  And I was happy enough getting the express train into town anyway.  And perhaps it's good getting treated like a tw*t now and again for no reason; if only to learn more about your fellow homosapians!

Will the next installment of Travelling DJ Diary be as tumultuous?  Find out next time.  Next city - Yekaterinberg.

Entry No. 10 - Club 'Ra', Yekaterinburg (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Getting a bit samey writing about these Captain Black Sound Storms, no?  I'll therefore be brief here.  Flight to this Urals city - where Asia literally meets Europe ( it's on the border) - went ok, and met at the airport by the local AMS agency people.  Straight to the hotel and out for a walkabout around the city centre.  Sunny day, good vibe.  Back to the hotel and off to the club.  Another swish 5-star affair, this time minus the bowling alley and cinema, but still v. posh.

Pre-set interview with some local rag went ok, particularly as the two girls doing it were drop-dead gorgeous.  Several pints later and after much "off-the-record" reportage with the lovely journos (yeah, right), it was up to the wheels of steel for some "on-the-record" action.

Local DJ Tkach had warmed the floor nicely playing house hits that worked.  I went into it as usual - harder, less poppy, but not inaccessible.  Dancefloor packed, everyone happy, including me.  Back to the airport and back to Moscow.

Will the next entry in Travelling DJ Diary be as brief and dull as this one?  Find out next time - next town - Saratov.

Entry No. 11 - Club 'Gran Michel', Saratov, (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Late flight to this town, and literally straight from the airport to the DJ booth.  Played here before and it went well, so was looking forward.  Crowd a bit older this time so played less peak-time monsters and more cool Tech & Prog. House.  Played for about four hours before deciding to call it a night.  After my set, as usual, was totally shattered, so it was just a quick brandy for the road before heading to the hotel.  As is often the case, quite a few punters wanted to chew the fat, and what could be more pleasant, indeed?  But I'm always just too wasted after playing, so can't come out with the banter.  Shame.  I could of course have three or four vodka Red Bulls to get me going again, but I'd only regret that for the next two days, and I'd probably not even make it to Moscow-Berlin tomorrow night.  

This time around the top lassie Annya from AMS arranged for us to stay the night in Saratov and to fly back Sunday night.  Beats the hung-over early morning mega-terror flight by far.  Come the morning Annya and I strolled along the shore of the Volga enjoying the sun, a few pints of Bochkarev, a bite to eat, and some good chin-wagging.

Quick flight back to Sheremetyevo and straight to Moscow-Berlin for a six-hour set of chilled Prog/House (is there such a thing?  New genre?!)

Come 2am, finally hit the sack back at the flat.  Tiring weekend, but most satisfying.  Will the next installment be equally so?  As always, find out next time - next city - St. Petersburg.

Entry No. 12 - Beach Club, St. Petersburg

On the express train to St. Pete this weekend with promoter Misha Chekaiyev.  Were met at the station by a local promoter in his brand new Mazda 6 who raced to the Gulf of Finland like a boy racer having just passed his test.  Idiot.

Having arrived surprisingly in one piece, were met by the locals who had just set up a temporary rival beach club right next to Jet-Set's beach club.  After a few bevvies and a bite to eat it was already my turn behind the decks.  But just then the heavens opened for a long-lasting, windy downpour.  Great.  Decks covered in rain, rain blowing in my face due to the wind, and had to put a plastic sheet over the mixer.  Then on come the dancers and every lunge they make the decks and even the CD players jumped.  Splendid.

Every mix was doomed.  There was just no point in trying to mix.  Then the local promoter comes up to me and asks for "happier tunes".  WHAT?  What I was playing was working, but no, this inexperienced 19 year-old considers my set non-format/too tough.

THEN, Misha Chekaiyev - aforementioned "promoter" - comes up and asks the same thing.  I was lost for words.  Of all the cretinous approaches to dancefloor theory this one, coming from a guy who lives of dancefloors:  Well.  But it gets worse.

Next DJ up uses Final Scratch - a hybrid vinyl mixing system that uses mp3s.  This thing needs setting up though.  Normally you put a CD on first and while that's playing, set up your Final Scratch.  No, this imbecile barges in and starts setting up during my set.

Then, the sound people decide to fade out my music and fade in the Final Scratch music.  This was the straw that broke the camel's back.  Fuming, I turned to Misha to let it all out.  Wrong move.  He kept silent, clearly indicating he was not "with me."

We walked next door to hear Danny Rampling playing wish-washy Balearic with zero groove.  He too was struggling under tarpaulins, but that didn't make up for his lame  tunes.  Never was a fan of Danny's, especially not tonight.

This was one of if not the worst gigs I've ever played.  Surprising when you think how St. Petersburg is supposed to be the leading progressive city of Russia - the Window on Europe, even.

Entry No. 13 - Platinum, Krasnodar (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Another welcome evening flight to this southern Russian city.  Straight to the club - only open three weeks - and suitably impressed.  Great sound, lights, all brand new gear in the booth.

This was the first Captain Black Sound Storm DJ Competition (see www.soundstorm.ru), where three finalists, chosen by me based on mix CDs sent to me in Moscow, battled it out to win the contest.  First up was a teenaged Proggy DJ.  His mixing was awful, and that's coming from me - hardly Oakey technically - but his tunes I really enjoyed.  Second was another teenager into klash.  His mixing was perfect, but he didn't really have much feel for the floor, and the tunes got kind of boring and samey.  Third up was a superb mixer, but he chose to play deep, deep-tech, underground house.  Just what the crowd did not want.

After the competition sets I was up to the decks and into a main-room type set of energetic House/Prog./Electro/Tech.  Went down well, never letting up the intensity to keep the floor packed.  Many a shirt off, many a whoop and many a thumbs-up and a wave from the dancefloor divas.  A result!

After my set I chose contestant No. 1 as winner of the comp, much to the amazement of the VIP guests/organisers.  Music is everything to me, mixing firmly of an secondary nature.  And a feel-for-the-floor is also vitally important.  No. 3 it turned out is an experienced and well-respected DJ on the local circuit.  Just shows talent and success don't go hand-in-hand.

Back to the hotel with the AMS girls after quite a few drinks.  They quickly went off to bed while I stayed in the lobby bar for a nightcap.

Up early next morning and back to Domodedevo.

A good time, a satisfied dancefloor, and an interesting angle with the competition.  Let's hope next week's gig is as wholesome as this week's.

Entry No. 14 - Open Air, Yekaterinberg

Not with CBSS this time, which makes a change.  Was only in Yekaterinburg a month ago with them, but this time I was on my own, having been booked through a local agency that found me on the net.

The venue was quite a way out of town, on the site of a disused gold mine.  The sound and lights were good and the barbequed shashlik was delicious; the only thing lacking was clubbers.  There were about twenty on the dancefloor when we arrived, which went up to a mere fifty when I stepped up.  No matter to me really, but the organisers were fuming as they were to lose out big-time financially.  Pre-set I got stuck into some brandy with the local organisers and their friends.  Good banter.  Then we were joined by large group of young clubbers who also got stuck into the brandy.  Much merriment all round.

Up on stage I could hardly hear anything due to a dodgy monitor.  Mixing in the earphones was similarly tricky as the mixer was naff and the phones' volume was too low.  Thus struggled for two hours.  Not nice.

Post-set it was a continuation of the brandy supping, but during the two hours I was on stage the others had kept drinking.  They were now all completely blotto, so I had some catching up to do :)

Several hours later I was whisked off to the airport.  Come midday I was back in my flat, crashed to be ok for Moscow-Berlin in the evening.

Great locals, indeed many an e-mail/mobile number scribbled down for furture liason.  Wasn't happy with the technical rider, but these things happen, nothing you can do.

Entry No. 15 - Fakel, Tomsk & Bunker, Novosibirsk

Double-whammy this weekend - Tomsk on the Saturday and Novosibirsk on the Sunday.

Was invited over by the JD / allnight.ru promo posse through DJ Martin in Krasnoyarsk.  Indeed, the large cities of Siberia, though far apart, are quite closely-knit, certainly in terms of club night organisation, anyway.

The long night flight to Novosibirsk was made even longer as, due to thick fog, we had to land in nearby (relatively) Kemerovo.  A few hours at the airport there then it was back onto the plane and back to Novosibirsk after the fog had cleared up.  Arrived having had very little sleep so it was straight to the hotel for some shut-eye.

Come the evening met the JD/allnight crew - five DJs and a designer.  We all got into a flash minibus with air conditioning and headed to a cool eatery for some massive steaks.  Then we hit the road for the four-hour journey to Tomsk.  I was dreading this as I hate long journeys in cars and was still tired, but things perked-up when the lads produced four litres of Red Label :)  The journey, as I'm sure you can guess, turned out to be a right scream.  The lads happened to be the best, most good-natured set of DJs I think I've come across ever.  No DJ-ego, no pretence, no BS.  Just tons of laughs.

Made it to Tomsk and headed to the huge club "Fakel" (flame).  Was suitably impressed by the club, its punters, decor, bars, food, etc., etc., as we continued punishing the Scotch.  After a few interviews I was up and into it after two JDs warmed-things up a bit.  Went well, dancefloor packed, but the stage between the dancefloor and the DJ booth was rather large - so that vital dancefloor-DJ interaction was lacking a little.

After my set the other three JDs played theirs, and the place was rocking.  At 6am it was back into the minibus and back to Novosibirsk.  After a quick stop for shashlik (traditional Russian barbequed skewered meat) we all unsurprisingly crashed out in the bus, only to wake back in Novosibirsk.  More much-needed sleep in my room.

Woke up far too early - 6pm and headed down to the lobby bar to take the edges off a bit.  Met a wonderful Ernst & Young accountant there called Masha and chewed the fat with her.  She told me I drink too much.  Maybe she's right.  Took stock.

After much lounging about the lobby, the crew picked me up and we headed out to Bunker club.  Unlike yesterday, a very underground club - sleazy but cool - as they should be.  The crowd was mostly female early twenties, which I wasn't begrudging.  The JDs played before and after my set - as yesterday most effectively.  My set turned out to be rather daring - with hip hop interludes and a 145 bpm techno stomper in the middle.  Worth the risk though - everyone appeared to enjoy it - no doubt simply because it was something different, not because it was anything special.

The club manager and his wife were really nice people - and generous too - and they said they'd be inviting me back soon - so - a result :)

After saying my farewells to the JDs I was driven to the airport and was back in Moscow Monday morning local time.  Still somewhat enebriated, wondered about for a bit around Dinamo metro, had a Star Dog, sat and chatted with a young mother of two-year old Dima playing in a sand pit, visiting from Norilsk, and only after all that drink-induced time wasting got back to the flat.

What a weekend.  Amazing.  Full respect to the Novosibirsk JD/allnight crew.  There's no better :)

Entry No. 16 - Waterclub, Moskva River Boat

First time in a while playing in Moscow - on the Waterclub boat going up and down the Moskva river, organised by DJ Phono and his elitepromo.ru crew.  Onto the boat at midnight by the Hotel Ukraine and was pleased to see my Dutch friend Yob's farewell party celebrations made their way onto the boat too.  Also there was DJ Hardy and his posse so it was good vibes up on deck while slowly cruising the river.

After Hardy I was on and straight away I had mega-trouble.  The phones were incredibly low on volume due to the mixer being rubbish, and same mixer just had to be non-standard in every way possible, forcing me to reinvent the wheel.  Good, eh?

Then the CD players were of similar sub-standard manufacture, and they also didn't sound too good.  Great!  For two hours I battled with the floored technology and only just managed to scrape together a decent set - technically speaking - I wasn't too worried about the content.  The pressure was on too as there were quite a few purist Moscow clubbers on the dancefloor listening out for seamless mixes.

Played nothing but hard-edged dark tech-house as per requirements (Phono is a techno DJ - but I don't bother with techno anymore - tech-house was deemed acceptable), and it did seem to really work.  Tracks I'd never bother with normally - they'd be too monotonous or not energetic enough - really rocked the floor, or, rather - the cabin!  Indeed much prefer playing tough tech-house for people who understand - so much more genuine.

Eventually got through my ordeal and had a few drinks with a neighbour who by coincidence was on the boat, and also Olga from AMS - the agency used for Captain Black Sound Storms.  Small world.

Disembarked and went with girlfriend Natasha and her pal Oxana to Ambar for an English breakfast.

Entry No. 17 - Studion, Tula

Two-hour drive to this town in DJ 'Engineer' Gary's motor.  Fourth time in Tula, but new club this time.  As soon as I got through the door I was impressed with the sound, decor, lights, security, long bars, and beautiful people.  A million miles from Gary's former club, Traffic, a dive in comparison.  That's progress:

Soon enough I was up and had to battle with the as-usual-of-late bad booth-sound, and in a midget-sized booth.  That's one thing they didn't consult a DJ for when fitting out this club.  Another thing was the non-standard gear - some fancy wannabe mixer with more knobs on it than, er, a 747's dashboard, and four EQ knobs instead of the usual three.  WHY?  And the CD player was the fiddly Denon twin thing - the sworn enemy of DJs the world over.

The crowd was so young anything veering away from the latest vocal electro-House hits was pushing your luck.  They just couldn't get their heads round slightly deeper/harder-edged grooves, mono-vibes and vocal-less tech-House.  No grasp of the finer subtleties possible in the domain of House music.  Eek, trippy digression.  Still, not their fault.  Anyway, faced with this teenie-bopper crowd, I had to try and find tunes in my box acceptable to this particular floor.  This created a bit of a panic for me as I normally select my tunes in terms of what I know works 90% of the time; suddenly I had to fish out only the poppier stuff out of a ruddy-great stack of vinyl and CDs.

Was glad when the next DJ came up to take over.  Then it was a quick brandy with the club owner then to the station and onto the train and back to Moscow.

Sadly, another disappointing experience.  The lesson learnt?  To mark the covers of records and CDs with a huge felt-tip cross if they've got peak-time/ accessible/ poppy/ vocally/ mainstream/ you-know-what-I-mean tunes on them. Panic prophylactics.

Entry No. 18 - Labyrinth, Krasnoyarsk (Captain Black Soundstorm)

Back to where we started (see Entry No. 1, above), CBSS returns to the Siberian city of Krasnoyarsk - same club, Labyrinth.

Night flight with Olga from AMS (agency), arriving in the small hours of the morning.

Straight to the hotel in AMS-Krasnoyarsk boss Zhenia's jeep and straight to the business centre to listen to the nine entries for the jam session competition.

Of the nine only two were any good - that of DJ S. Franc and another guy whose name escapes me.

SMS'ed the results to Olga and then got some shut-eye.

Up mid-afternoon, nice weather, so decided to have a run round the park.

Sadly, as with most Russian parks, the litter everywhere spoiled the undertaking somewhat.

Can't abide litter.

Makes me ashamed to be human.

A bit like spitting in the street.

Anyway, back to the hotel, then a bit later to a Chinese cafe for some noodles.

There are many Chinese living in Krasnoyarsk - no doubt due to the proximity - and indeed I think I was the only non-Chinese in the place.

Later in the evening it was off to the club.

Got rather bored waiting around with nothing much to do until top-geezer/friend/trusty gig-booker DJ Martin turns up.

Had some great laughs with him and downed several beers while watching the jam session - the other guy won by playing trashy electro-House hits; S. Franc, sadly, came second - then Martin was up for a short set.

After Martin it was me.

All was going well, playing accessible yet non-trashy House, when after an hour-and-a-half (was going to play three hours) a club-employed heavy comes up and asks if I have any "Disco-House".

"No" came the auto-pilot reply, naturally.

Two minutes later, same heavy tells me I'm to finish my set as the 'management' says so.

Now I was getting very into my DJing at this point, really vibeing it with the crowd.

So automatically I resisted, uttering Russian expletives and continuing to rummage through my record bag thinking "since when does the management pull the headliner who's come thousands of miles, who's doing a good job," etc., etc.

Two minutes later - a firm tap on the shoulder - "the management means it".

'Jesus', I thought.

The crowd is having a whale of a time and this emissary from the cretinous 'management' says I'm to stop.

Fine, I thought, been paid, their loss.

But it was also the loss for the 'floor, as I was replaced by a DJ playing stuff they hear every weekend.

Ah, well.

But I'm not even sure it was a loss to them.

They appeared to appreciate remakes of Samantha Fox and Bryan Adams hits.

Sod it.

Decided to drink through my melancholy.

Hell, I needed to be anaesthetised listening to the likes of Eric Prydz and Benny Benassi.

Towards dawn we headed to an after-party @ Moscow - organised 'Ossenn' (Autumn) - of Fashion TV fame.

All very trendy and OTT (gold-colour painted toilets, velvet everything), but the music was worse than at Labyrinth.

This only confirmed the oft-heard complaint of 'real' clubbers about the 'pafossni' (posh) 'golden-youth' who populate clubs like this: their taste in music sucks. Badly.

Still, they appear to like it, so I can't really have a proper go at them.

I just remain mystified.

As similarly occurred in Yaroslavl (Entry No. 9, above) turned down a dead-cert prospect of casual sex back at my hotel with a very sexy girl called Lena at the club.

Pals jibe at me when I later tell them in the pub about these bizarre refusals of mine, but I just explain how tired and inebriated I am at seven in the morning, with yearnings only for a bed, er, with only me in it!

Oh and the girlfriend wouldn't approve.

Forgot about that bit J

Entry No. 19 - Opera, Akademgorodok, Novosibirsk, (Captain Black Sound Storm)

Back to Siberia again for another CBSS. The club Opera is situated in the academic town - called "Academic Town" (!) - just outside Novosibirsk. This is a town whose whole population attends one of the several prestigious universities and colleges here. Student-alert!

First impressions of the club were spoiled by the sound and lighting going on the blink several times during the warm-up DJs set. This soon sorted itself out though and the DJ Jam-Session/Competition got underway with the three finalists I'd chosen. One of these was my pal DJ Misha Technic of the JD Promo Group and Inside Records (www.insiderec.com). It was pretty obvious he was going to win and indeed he did (no fix!) as his set was great as was his mixing. One of the other DJs just put a mix on and stood there pretending, so it wasn't like the competition was up to much.

Once the competition was finished I was up and into a very large yet accessible sounding set in light of the very young and predominantly female crowd. All went well, but reading the crowd proved tricky as they just seemed to dance to everything with the same eagerness. A bit like E-heads, though no one in the place was on E.

After me Misha Technic was up for his winning showcase slot, which was great. I slid back to the bar for few more tequilas and banter with punters/dancers/casting girls/bandit types, and then I was back to the hotel to collect my thoughts. I'd gone too far with the accessible/large tunes. Too cheesy. I even played Enzo Mori & Stephan Clark "First Class". Ok, it sure rocks, but talk about cheesy kidstuff? Indeed, it was here in this hotel room tending to a cold Heineken from the mini-bar that I decided it was time for a change. Time for a return back underground. Real tunes, quality, no sell-out. You can still make 'em dance, dammit. Don't take the easy route. Like the music yourself. Otherwise you get a bad feeling somewhere in the gut that something just isn't quite right. I reminded myself of all the superb tunes I've been getting recently, ones I didn't bring as I'd been warned (by the JDs) the club was a hive of commercial/poppy non-music. Felt a bit better, but will feel much better once my plan is put into action in two weeks time in Vladivostok.

On the plane home I bumped into two other Moscow DJs - DJ Smile and DJ Smash, Flash, Bash or some other original name. Bash was very young and got gigs in the regions due to his being involved with the Moscow Leto/Ossenn pafoss rich & fashionable crowd - playing in a regional subsidiary thereof - while Smile, a bit of a famous old veteran in Russia, couldn't keep himself from informing us both, practically upon our meeting, how he'd been to Novosibirsk DJing twenty times. Yawn. I think it impressed Smash though (we were all sat next to each other), so a result for him there. Once on the plane I was out like a light. Was it the booze, or was it the conversation?

Entry No. 20 - Zebra, Barnaul & Diesel, Bisk

My travel companion on this long flight to Siberia was a fifty year-old gent by the name of Oleg, who just wouldn't shut up. Had intended reading my Len Deighton all the way through this night-flight, but this was put paid to by Oleg who was more than generous enough with his Gordon's gin. And just about everyone near us, right at the back, was also drinking the hard stuff at a terrific rate, so, well, silly not to join in the fun, eh?

What with it being a mere minus 4 degrees Celsius in Moscow, I figured it wouldn't be too much colder in Barnaul, Siberia. Durr. Minus 28 when the plane touched down. Was in a thin top and a thin coat. Well, it's always a good 28 degrees indoors just about everywhere in Russia, and I wasn't expecting to be out in the cold for more than half a minute. Still, just the short walk across the apron nearly saw me freeze to death. Thankfully the awaiting motor was already warmed-up by the driver. Lifesaver.

Was met by Barnaul's famous Brit/Indie group Sonicflyer's front-man, Dima Sonic. Good bloke, and great taste in music. Odd place to produce the best up-and-coming band in Russia, especially, as Dima told me, when the band members comprise the only four people in the city into Indie. They have a bigger following in Moscow.

To the hotel for snooze. Later, ventured into the hotel's restaurant to find there Radio Chanson blaring out of a badly tuned old stereo. Even more disturbing was the fact that the waitress listening to it was about 19. How can anyone under the age of 80 possibly enjoy Russki chanson? The food made up for this shocker, as did the waitress's smile.

A bit later went for a sauna - mistake - drained me of energy - and finally Dima turned up again and we were off to the club, after a quick bite to eat at Barnaul's "English Pub". The club was cool, modern, well-equipped, solidni. During the inevitable hanging about before my set, discussed The Smiths, The Wedding Present, The Kills and other such indie delights for hours with Dima's sister and Sonicflyer's guitarist, Yulia. Like her brother - great taste in music.

Eventually I was on after some botched Pall Mall cigarettes promotion raffle, and into it hard fairly swiftly. The warm-up, Makarenko, played exceptionally good House music, energetic but not this utterly rubbish neo-electro. So gladly took up the reins and continued in the tougher vein. Cool. The crowd enjoyed it and I sure did too.

Not so long after finishing I was whisked back to the hotel to get some shut-eye and to sober up before tomorrow's gig in the nearby city of Bisk.

Next day it was back to the English pub again for full English breakfast, then I was transferred into the care of Pasha - last night's MC - and Max - driver/security/sorter bloke. In a large and comfortable car called in at another Barnaul club to chew the fat with the DJs and promoters there. Had a few drinks, etc., then it was off to Il Patio to meet up with yesterday's dancers - Go-Go Rastabiker and Bitch! - and a couple of clubbers - Sergey and Tanya - who were coming with us to Bisk. Back in the car we "dropped it like it's hot" all the way to Bisk listening to Snoop Dog on the amply sub-woofered car stereo. The journey was sublime, almost surreal. Minus thirty, thick snow covering everything, even overhead cables, and a frosty mist. Incredibly bleak outside. But we had Snoop as our accompaniment, banging on about the Crips and South-Central beetches, and the air-conditioning was also dropped like it's hot. This mix of two worlds was unforgettable.

At last made it to Diesel club, a little worse-for-ware after our fun and games back in the Barnaul club this afternoon. The hanging-about was painless - chatting with Go-Go Rastabiker, Bitch, Sergey, Tanya and Pasha and also the club owners and their sometimes scary pals.

Didn't quite get the vibe of the dancefloor at first once I was up, either due to not having enough beer or because the DJ booth was well away from the 'floor, and two stories up therefrom. Remedied the former quickly, and soon forgot about the latter as whoops and shouts and hands in the air became more frequent.

One of this year's better gigs I have to say. Great crowd, and also great folk I was with. Really friendly, no pretence or BS, really cool people.

The journey back to Barnaul was a bit of a blur, and Snoop was on the stereo again.

Our cars stopped halfway for some scran at a ramshackle roadside cafe. I had the pellmeni, which were delicious, while the others preferred the borsch. Then it was farewell to Go-Go Rastabiker, Bitch, Sergey and Tanya and off to the airport. Great people. What impressed most was the pleasant simplicity to having a good time together. No crap. And it wasn't alcohol-induced either; no one had more than a few. A refreshing change.

The journey back to Moscow was sombre. Still, to be expected after three nights boozing.

Entry No. 21 - Embargo, Rostov-on-Don (Captain Black Sound Storm)

A destination a little warmer this week compared with last week, I was pleased to be returning to this Southern Russian city - the 'capital' of the politically volatile Northern Caucasus region - having been here some years ago with Chuguni Skorohod & Da Boogie Crew. Recall then a nice town with nice people, and gladly this time it was the same.

Was met at the airport by the lovely Annya & Lyonya of AMS, the inviting agency. Drove to the 'Rostov' Hotel and had a snooze. A little later was served almost inedible food in the hotel's cafe. Should have gone to the hotel's restaurant, but the menu in the cafe seemed tastier. Due to lack of time had to make do with packets of nuts and a Mars bar from the small shop on my floor. Never again hotel 'cafes'.

The club is situated on the opposite bank of the river Don from the city, on a long stretch of hotels and restaurants which make up a busy tourist resort in the summer.

Was pleased to find an extremely well fitted-out club with the best sound system I've heard in a long time. Reminded me of Back to Basics in Leeds - so loud you feel the kick-drum in your stomach, but pristine sound quality with no distortion or muddiness.

With such great sound, the DJing was a pleasure. The floor appeared happy too, and very responsive. Put on a hard stomper and the lads jumped up, put on a recognizable vocal track - on came the girls. Like clockwork.

DJ Timon (djtimon.ru) played after me and I was very impressed by his selection of quality electro-House. Electro-House can be good, after all! After a few pics and an interview and a bit of a boogie with the delightful Annya - girlfriend of the cameraman - was back to the hotel. Slept through the hangover - the way forward - and to the airport early evening. Arrived back in Moscow fresh as a cucumber, as they say in Russia, but decided not to play Moscow-Berlin that night. Enough DJing for one weekend. A DVD and a few vodka-tonics - that's more like it.

Entry No. 22 - MSK Open-Fest - British Weekend - De La Guarda, Moscow

Quite a line-up for this 35-hour weekend festival of both tunes (House/Techno/Drum'n'Bass) and "action" (DJ battles, DJ gear showcases, etc.). The big names included Ben Lost, Ashley Casselle, Ashtrax, Influx UK and Pascal. Just a pity tickets were 1000 roubles (about $30). At news of this, every single one of my serious clubbing mates told me simply "you're 'avin' a larf, mate", or rather, the Russian equivalent thereof, and went elsewhere.

I was opening the festival on the Friday - part blessing part damning. Blessing - I could get it out of the way and have time to fit in another gig that night; damning - "Warm-up DJ blues"; not many folk there.

Decided to try out my current fave tunes that I can't always play at more commercial venues. Dark, hard, intricate Electro-House, bordering on tuff experimental Tech-House - former Prog. producers bringing themselves up-to-date. Great music. The crowd liked it too.

After me it was Ashley Casselle who into a trancey/electro/klashy set. But unfortunately I wasn't able to listen to much of that since Grisha, two Natashas and Sergey and I were quickly into a waiting fast car to ferry us over to Mauveton. Pal and colleague DJ Davo (www.energysound.ru) had hired the place out for all his pals and colleagues to revel in. The place was heaving, sweaty and the music was ear-splitting. A young, middle-class, beautiful people-type crowd who were all either getting wasted on the expensive drinks or dancing like: dancers, or both.

Just the opposite of tonight's first gig, here I played light-hearted but energetic party-tunes that work for the non-Housey crowd. And after a few too many Vodkas I was getting into it too.

After holding the floor from 2 to 4am (such modesty!), Natasha and I headed out to Ambar for a well-earned greasy breakfast to, as Paul McGann says in Withnail, "soak up the booze; eat some cake."

Entry No. 23 - Akula, Irktusk

Another night-flight to this distant Siberian city. Five and a half hours. Leave 10pm or so, arrive 7am or so, taking into account the time difference. Nothing worse. Can't sleep, arrive tired, hotel neighbours/chamber-maids normally noisy during the day - again no sleep. Insomniac hell.

The hotel gladly made up for the above-mentioned shortcomings of night-journeys to Siberia. It was a just-built rustic wooden cottage-looking affair with great service. Outside in the gardens were incredible ice sculptures of bears and storey-high arches with 2006 carved into them - clearly hangovers from the New Year celebrations here a few months back. Well, it's not as if the sculptures would melt is it?

And, praise the Lord, the chamber-maids were good and quiet. So, no need for sleeping pills, I got my head down only to wake as late as around 7pm.

My lift to the club was late so I waited in the lobby bar. Four vodkas later, said lift turns up, driver thereof appearing not to be aware of his being an hour late. Oh well. Go with the flow and all:

After a quick tour of the city we arrived at the club. Like the hotel, brand new. Got stuck in to several more vodkas and enjoyed good banter with the local DJs and organisers.

After a quick interview with Muz-TV, I was up and on and into my usual. Not a great many punters as someone slipped up on the advertising. I didn't mind though, could take it easy a bit. What few folk there were, at least I got them all onto the dancefloor.

After my set I had a few more with local promoter Timofey and then headed next door to a bar to discuss dance music, clubs, clubbers and club-orientation with an all-male clubber posse (he two accompanying girls were mere hangers-on it turned out, heading home fairly sharpish once we stuck to these same themes for more than twenty minutes. Clubbers, eh? - who needs 'em?).

Finally headed back to the cosy hotel. Unfortunately, only to collect my things. Then off to the airport and back to Moscow on the 7am flight. Back in Moscow 9am. Worse for wear. So, naturally, straight into an all-dayer after summoning Natasha for an Atkin's-busting pizza-and-beer-fest at Il Patio restaurant. Then went to see the film Munich, keeping the imminent hangover at bay with top-ups. Good film. After that to a mate's posh hired-out-venue birthday party where continued to be excessive, only to have to be escorted out after about an hour "for my own safety", according to Natasha. What that meant I don't know, as I can't remember any of it. Must have been good though.

Entry No. 24 - Motorcycle, Novokuznetsk

Another night-flight to Siberia from Domodedovo. Arrived in the wee hours of Saturday morning to be met by the lovely Ruslana who shuttled us off to the hotel. I say we, as, unbeknown to me, another DJ from Moscow playing at the same gig as me was on my flight - DJ Gleb Deev - plays @ Mix, plays on Dinamit FM - respect.

After a double omelette and salad it was already time to crash, having had no sleep on the plane as usual.

Seven hours later I was up and looking forward to tonight's gig. I'd been invited by my mate DJ Mike Technic from Novosibirsk. In Novokuznetsk the gig was the eighteenth birthday party of the daughter of the owner of the huge leisure centre in which the club 'Motorcycle' is situated. Rich guy. No expense spared.

Ruslana, Gleb and I first got some scran down in one of the numerous restaurants in the leisure centre. Then we were into the club and checking the carefully choreographed schedule for the night - dancers, DJ sets, strip shows, lesbian shows, games, competitions, the works.

After a few whiskies with Technic in the back I was up to the decks. Happy tunes for happy people. Have to say it was a first for me having toddlers on the dancefloor, but they were into it :).

I came off after an hour and the games and shows begun. Later it was Gleb, then me again, then Technik. While they were on I got stuck into the lush and plentiful spread of snacks, sandwiches and other nibbles.

Come 5am I was three sheets to the wind so decided to call it a night and head off to the hotel. A couple of hours later Gleb emerged - sober as a judge - and we headed back to the airport. There I quickly got another drink in and while at the bar bumped into three similarly inebriated blokes - Sergey, Lyosha and Dima - with whom I started chatting. Turns out they're music technicians - they'd been to Novokuznetsk to sort the lights/sound for some big winter sports event.

On the plane I was invited over to where they were sitting at the back and we drank and bantered the whole four-hour-plus journey! Turns out they might be able to get me gigs soon too :) Had a great laugh with them and even continued our party in the bar @ Domodedovo and on the express train into Moscow. Then it was a quick nightcap @ Paveletskaya station before finally all heading our separate ways. Instead of doing the sensible thing and going home to get some kip, I embarked on an all-dayer with my Brit pals and their ladies in Starlite Diner. It's becoming a habit this staying out. A great time was had by all though - so it was worth it. Quite a weekend.

Entry No. 25 - Studion, Tula

8pm Saturday evening, Natasha & I met DJ Gary Engineer and his girlfriend Natya and jumped in his motor to speed off (literally) to Tula - two hours or so drive away. Became clear immediately that both Gary and Natya were off their heads on E. Wouldn't have minded but Gary starts swerving to avoid potholes over-zealously, punching the air to the tunes on the stereo, and occasionally shouting "yeah". One thing I can't tolerate is bad driving. But here we had bad driving, too fast, on drugs, on wet roads. This could only be expected from Gary however. Irresponsible is his middle name - further proved later at the end of the night:

Made it in one piece, surprisingly, but then had four damn hours to kill in a club that had a geriatric 4-piece 'chanson' ensemble on stage. Clearly a test sent from God. In an attempt to mitigate, Natasha & I got stuck into some nosh and martini cocktails.

Finally I was up, but sadly I was down, not up. Attempting to negotiate the skinny ladder into the DJ booth I slipped and fell. Not a pretty sight. No bones broken though, got started into my usual accessible-type set. Just like last time in this club (Entry No. 17) the equipment let me down big time. Just so annoying to reinvent the wheel each time. Why can't they stick to industry standard Technics and Pioneer? These Denons and Stantons cost almost the same.

Due to the constant struggle to keep the mixes sweet didn't enjoy myself. But things only got worse. Once finished my set started looking for Gary, who had done a disappearing act. Eventually found him sat with a bandit-looking tough guy. Both had very serious faces. Then Gary slides off to leave me to tough out some bandit-style nonsense talk with this far from friendly bruiser. Claiming everything was ok apart from the fact I fell - and this was so heinous a crime - it appeared that this geezer was the one with the purse. But the whole Goodfellers-like conversation turned out to be utterly pointless anyway because at the end of it he paid up in full. Eh? So, what, he was just having his fun? His kicks to show what a man he was? This guy then suddenly comes over all charming like in the gangster films and courteously drove us to the station in his jeep. What a palaver. What BS.

Three hours later arrived in Moscow after a snooze on the train, and, of course went off on an all-day boozey mission with Natasha - incorporating Ambar (breakfast), Mesto Vstreche (coffee, vodka), Moscow-Berlin (erm, same), then Tandoor Indian restaurant (curry, brandy). Well, at least this all made up for the bogus evening in Tula. Never saw Gary again after his slinking off. Never will see him again.

Entry No. 26 - Panorama, Irkutsk

Was only here in this Siberian city a couple of months ago (see Entry No. 23 above) but was glad to be back after having such a good time then. MC Timofey invited me this time (he's the one with the long hair at the back and shaved sides of the head in the gallery), and he was the one who met me at the airport. In the taxi waiting were DJ Sad - Stass - and Andrey - a young R'n'B DJ. At 8am local time they'd just come from a club and were rather fresh to say the least.

In my posh hotel room I crashed immediately. Six hours later met Timofey in the lobby and we waited for Stass and Andrey over coffee. They eventually turned up more than an hour late and we set off for Lake Baikal in Andrey's flash motor. Lake Baikal is the largest lake in the world, and quite a breathtaking view. It was still iced over but we didn't risk venturing onto it. Bought souvenirs and fresh smoked fish and had a few beers lakeside. Suddenly it was 7pm and time for us to head back into town.

First stop was Red Hall club where Timofey's pals were celebrating a birthday. Good banter, a dram too much of whisky.

Onto Panorama - brand new club, quite something, apart from the oft - and indeed this time - overlooked sound system. Sat in the back room where Stass was playing Deep Tech. Bantered with a bloke whose name I can't recall but with whom had a great laugh.

1.30am I was up and having to deal with having just one CD player and one turntable. The crowd loved it despite there being that strange distance between it and me that sometimes occurs - unexplainable, but definitely present all the same. Spooky.

After my set met and chatted with a bloke at the bar (getting to be a habit this:) and put the world to rights over vodkas.

Later back to the hotel for a breakfast of champions and later yet onto the plane and back to Moscow. Had a whole row to myself so laid down and got some much-needed shut-eye.

Back in Moscow, met up with Natasha and embarked on the inevitable all-dayer. Thankfully the next day - a Monday - was a public holiday so at least I had the chance of a hangover-mending lie-in. Needless to say that particular Monday was hardly one of the easiest.

Entry No. 27 - Open-Air, Nizhny-Tagil

My second time in this Urals city of 300,000 - two-hours' drive from Yekaterinberg, but the first DJ Diary entry for the place - last time was about three years back - before the advent of the DJ Diary.

It was a sweltering 34 degrees in Moscow as I boarded the plane at Sheremetevo. Humid too. Fortunately Yekaterinberg's temperature was half as hot as Moscow's, so the two-hour car journey to Nizhny-Tagil - famous in Russia for its assorted Russian tank factories and pollution problem - was quite bearable. Was met at the airport by Dima - local party-organiser, whom I was put in touch with by Moscow's DJ Phono (www.elitepromo.ru), and his right-hand man/driver - Zhenya.

Once in Tagil we got to the venue only to witness the skies open for a heavy downpour. Just the thing for an open-air. This didn't last too long though, so plan-B to shift all the gear inside was not resorted to.

Then I was driven to the hotel - a good half-hour from Tagil - as if we'd not seen enough driving for one day - and after some grub with Dima and his girlfriend Sasha, followed by a much-needed shower, we were heading back to Tagil.

The ensuing hunt for an acceptable standard of booze lasted more than expected. I would have accepted vodka, but the lads insisted on Scotch. Then "Day of Youth" celebrations happened to be in full swing - hoards of wasted folk everywhere - and the shop shelves were almost empty of spirits, since the smaller kiosks weren't allowed to sell alcohol at all, as always happens these days when there are such celebrations, or similarly a football match on nearby. (Would love to see the scenes around Elland Road or Old Trafford if no booze was on sale in the vicinity before a game!).

Eventually got to the venue - a car-park - now filling up nicely. After a few shots of the V, I stepped up and went into it hard. Everyone was up for it, fists punching the air, shirts off, energetic dancing. Nice.

Two hours later my time was up and before I could say "vibe" we were off to another open-air/after-party just down the road. A more serious, underground, older crowd here - I squeezed in a short set of dark Prog. Why not? This new electro is incredibly dull. Had a great time there with a good set of complete strangers. Much excess, debauchery even. Best not get into the details here - this is a family website, you know.

Slept all the way to the hotel and can't remember much about getting to my room. Was woken up by some kiddies' competition in the sports hall of the hotel at 11am. Not pleased. Sleep was futile so decided to get up and grab some breakfast in the restaurant. Yesterday's Mexico v. Argentina World Cup match was on the big plasma, so enjoyed that over my bacon & eggs, extra-time and all.

Dima arrived around 2pm to collect me, I think a little annoyed at the excesses of last night, not that he said anything outright; or maybe I imagined it. All I know is that after-party antics can get a bit crazy, but if people are just having fun - why not? Or maybe I got boisterous? Shall have to follow-up, make amends:

On the plane back to Moscow I was sat next to a nuclear physicist name Valery. No joke. Could have been a useful contact had I been a spy. Which reminds me - just today I received confirmation from a promoter in the closed city of Norilsk that the FSB - former KGB - have officially refused in writing to grant me permission to enter that city. Believe it!

Entry No. 28 - FHM Party, Outhall, Vladivostok

My second time in this far-eastern city, being first here way back in 1993. And what a difference thirteen years make. Back then it was a dull Soviet backwater of a city - very depressing. This time - boom-town. Japanese cars, thriving commerce everywhere, new shopping centres and everything you could possibly need in the shops. I recall having difficulty finding somewhere ok to eat last time.

However, the advances in the general health of the city hardly made up for the fiasco which was to make up this trip.

First of all - the nine-hour sleepless night flight. Nuff said. Thankfully I had the whole day to myself to recuperate. Even fitted in the hotel gym upon rising.

Met up with Olga of FHM down in the lobby around 9pm but had to wait about an hour for the three tardy young lads from the sponsors - Sony Playstation. No apologies offered, we headed to the club. The "famous" MTV MC from Moscow failed to show up - he got to the wrong airport in Moscow - so a local last-minute lifesaver MC was brought in. He was to MC about the FHM "girl-next-door" competition where the lucky winner of a clap-athon as to who is the prettiest gets to travel to London or somewhere for the international final of all the participating countries' winners.

After a bite to eat at a fancy cafe we were back in the club where I was left to twiddle my thumbs for half-an-hour. Got myself a beer. Then I was informed I'm to play the back-room. Ok. Thing is, just ten people were in the back-room - most of them staff. That's a long way to come to play to nobody. Half-an-hour into my leisurely set I was told I was expected in the main room - NOW!

I get in there to find the girl-next-door competition over, and that the dancefloor had already petered out into a few bods bobbing their heads. Then I hear the DJ before me had put his last CD on a four-second loop - a five minute monotonous dancefloor clearer. CHEERS! Just what was he thinking?

After fumbling with my stylii and records, with the whole place staring at me thinking I'm the reason behind the looped-track boredom, I finally get a record going, but by then it was difficult getting the floor going again. It was pissed-off. And I don't blame it.

Now here's the best bit: to get this gig I had to record specially a "Disco-House" mix as an audition a few weeks before the gig (see the "Heaven Is On The Backseat Of My Cadillac" mix here: www.nickhodgkins.com/mixes) Audition duly passed, I was repeatedly informed in Vladi that what is needed is "light, discoey-House". Fine. But the DJ before me had cranked it up to proportions a la pumping. Going soft now would have been suicide. So I naturally proceeded to play something up and hard-hitting and vocally but not too intense - Gomi's remix of Joi Cardwell's classic You Got To Pray - a track I've never once known to fail to rock the floor, but even that wasn't getting the punters back on the floor (most had left the club by now anyway - straight after the girl-next-door comp.). Never listen to non-DJs what should be played - no truer words ever uttered. So steered the tunes towards more pumping, fatter vocally stuff. Fine, now we're getting into it. But just as the floor and the DJ are finding one-another and the whoops yells are forthcoming more regularly, I get pulled! "This is not the format of the club". Wait, it gets better: the stand-in DJ then proceeded to play the exact same kinda s**t I had just been playing - albeit cheesier.

I head to the back-room again stunned. I play for two-hours (gladly, the www.tysa.ru crew were into it), then I was back to the hotel, turning down the offer of the after-party. Got in some snacks from the small supermarket opposite the hotel (where the security and the check-out girls were having a kind of food-fight - with Twix's and Snickers') and watched the Germans beat Argentina on penalties in the World Cup (nine hours time difference from Berlin).

Disasters like this occur about once a year. It seems they can not be avoided. People with no idea of music making decisions - a mistake. Last time this kind of thing happened was last year in Krasnoyarsk (see DJ Diary Entry No. 18 above). The music is working, but still the boss or whoever says no. Or not playing the hits they hear at the same place every weekend - and it's still "no", even though you're practically following the format to the letter. And the formula-prescriptions that turn out to be 100% wrong. Disaster. Still, if it can happen to the best of 'em - David Morales and Victor Calderone just recently here in Russia - well, I guess it can happen to me too.

Entry No. 29 - Druzhba, Kostroma

This trip marked a return for me to this quaint Golden Ring town on the Volga. Two other DJs were traveling with me, DJ Krikoff (Pasha) and DJ Adriana (Olga). Olga is a touchy-feely, rather hyper lassie, whom I couldn't quite work out; Pasha loves talking music, DJing, clubs, etc. and also considers himself a superior DJ. Well, he can scratch, so he must be.

After a four-hour train journey to Yaroslavl, we had a further hour's car journey to Kostroma. Leaving our bags at the hotel we headed over to venue - Druzhba cinema. The gig was to mark the opening of the new lounge-cafe in the large foyer area of the cinema, between two bars. Having eaten and listened to Pasha witter on non-stop about how ace a DJ he was to the hosts, we returned to the hotel to crash.

As I hadn't slept the night before - DJing at Finikia then clubbing at Twister then Ikra - I slept rather soundly. A while later I was up and off to the venue. A bit later I was on and played the prescribed calm House.

After my set I sat with the friendly lads of similar age as me who had been sitting nearest the booth and enjoyed a few shots. Next we headed to another club but didn't stay too long. I was worn out. Headed to the hotel and crashed.

Come 5am good old Olga woke me up by banging on my room door. I'd slept through my mega-loud mobile-phone alarm clock! The journey back to Moscow was tiresome.

Dull entry, I know. Let's hope my next gig - a Red Bull beach party in Moscow with the DJ booth, allegedly, mounted on the back of a Hummer - is less-so.

Entry No. 30 - Siemens-BenQ Party, Yekaterinberg

While playing at Finikia Friday night, received a call asking me if I wanted to play in Yekaterinberg the next day. Talk about short notice! I agreed, but only on the premise that Natasha - girlfriend - accompanies me. They agreed.

Next day we met up with promoter Misha in Moscow and bought tix for the plane quickly. 6pm - on the plane and off to Yekaterinberg.

Upon arrival met up with Moscow promoter Ilya - of DJ-Pro fame - and it was straight to the venue - a marquee put up for some kind of corporate presentation for Siemens-BenQ. Ten minutes later I was up and into it. After a full thirty minutes the police decided we were making too much noise at the ungodly hour of 10pm and asked us to cease. A long way to go for a thirty-minute set!

Ilya, Natasha and I headed to the hotel and then to a sushi restaurant in the basement thereof. Had a fun time there - see photos - and were in bed (minus Ilya!) by 1am.

Next day the sun was out and Natasha and I walked around Yekaterinberg taking pics and looking touristy, map in hand. After an under-par Il Patio lunch it was back to the hotel and then back to the airport.

Short, sharp session. Of course would have preferred to have got a full set in, but all in all - an enjoyable weekend.

Entry No. 31 - 'Batir', Naberezhny Chellni

Second time in this city, which is around the same size as Leeds (approx. 700,000), situated in Tatarstan. Quick 1?-hour flight on a small Tupelev plane, to be met by the excellent geezer Alexey - Art Director of Batir club - who invited my last time.

As on a perma-diet, turned down the offer of dinner at the club early evening and instead headed for the hotel. Couldn't sleep so read for about three hours and watched the news about Lebanon being bombed - not nice.

23.30 Alexey picked me up and come midnight we were at the club. Straight into the Art Director's office to be fed a tasty Caesar and lamb kebabs along with a few ales, and chatted with Alexey's colleague Ganya - see photo - who told me how there is good reason for Russians thinking all foreigners think bears roam the streets in Russia. Apparently, some 18th century French aristocratic travel writer did indeed witness such a spectacle quite often here. That 300 years shouldn't make a difference: neither here nor there.

Nicely sated - upstairs to where the music was coming from. The club is swish - part of an entertainment complex. The DJ booth is up on the terrace and has a see-through floor through which the dancefloor and bar can be seen below. Perverts' heaven.

To avoid repetition with these DJ Diary entries, I shall be brief here: The CD players were totally non-standard. This was rather surprising considering they were made by Technics, whose 1200/1210 turntables are still the industry standard, decades after they first came out. The next two hours were a bind; shall leave it at that. Fortunately the boss of the club enjoyed my tunes, as did Alexey and the resident DJs, not forgetting the 'floor itself, so that kinda made up for the annoyance with the duff equipment.

After my set I had two hours to kill before needing to head back to the airport. Naturally thus got a bottle of the pure, strong, see-through, liquid stuff in and shared it in the above-mentioned Art Director's office with one of the residents - Artyom.

A while later - back to the airport for the usual hungover trip back to Moscow. Took it steady on the V though (being very careful of late), so by the time I was back at Domodedevo the post-session euphoria was already kicking in. Good timing. Got back home and slept most of the day to be fresh for that night's stint at the new club Twister in Moscow. "Keep Playing, Feel Good" (title of my latest mix for those who need reminding) - indeed!

Entry No. 32 - 'Al Casr', Tashkent, Uzbekistan

Been quite some time since the last instalment of Travelling DJ Diary due to a "quiet patch". Thankfully, for me, more frequent Moscow gigs have made up for this DJ-drought, but it's still always good to get out of the dirty big city (recently found to be Europe's filthiest city by the UN). Even better to get out of Russia once in a while. Much better to a country you've never visited and one of which little is known. Uzbekistan became such country; it's capital, Tashkent, such city.

Flew out with my girlfriend Natalia Friday afternoon. Couldn't land at Tashkent due to fog - a weather phenomenon hardly known in Uzbekistan. Thus, after several fly-overs, were forced to land in Samarkand. Possibly the worst airport I've ever seen, and I've seen a few in the back of beyond in my time. Was off the booze 100% on doctor's orders (liver needed a break) so had to settle for coffee and cheese sandwiches - the only non-alcoholic items on sale at the passenger lounge bar. As the fog wasn't lifting, other flights had to land in Samarkand too - including one from Seoul and one from Tokyo. Soon enough got chatting with two friendly girls - a Kazakh and an Uzbek on the flight from Tokyo - and sat in the bar for the next six hours with them chewing the fat. Around midnight we - all flights - were taken to a large room (I can not call it a restaurant) to be served dinner - a shoddy sausage in plastic and some greasy undercooked rice. Two hours later we were herded onto buses and taken to a two-star hotel. Here the phones didn't work and there was no hot water. Not to worry though - we crashed as soon as we got to our room. Oh, and reception stopped answering our calls enquiring about the Tashkent phone code. Nice.

Rudely awoken (literally!) by reception and into the bus and to another 'large room' for breakfast. Can't beat eggs (boom-boom!) to save the day breakfast-wise. Consumed my portion plus that of a Korean travel agent and a Russian model, and, fully sated, walked over the road to the airport. More waiting. Eventually boarded and thirty minutes later finally landed in a foggy indeed Tashkent.

Headed to Natalia's folks where we were staying for the weekend. Come evening we sat down for a superb meal with family and relatives - with "manti" - Uzbek mince in pastry/pasta delicacies - but still no inebriants. A while later it was to the dentist to have our teeth cleaned very cheap!

Come midnight it was to the club - a brand new venue to be run by President Karymov's nephew - who was throwing this lavish opening bash.

After stepping up to replace local DJ Vitaly I was into a commercial set for this "golden-youth" set who still think "The World Is Mine" rocks. The Gemini set-up in the booth was awful - with the CD player jumping on occasion, sometimes so badly I had to simply stop the victimized track that was playing and start the next one, school disco style. Lovely.

Not all that many folk turned up which apparently surprised everyone - the pre-party in the adjoining restaurant, which started at 7pm, was packed - but those who did were fairly active on the dancefloor. A message was handed to me that the President's nephew wanted more "David Guetta"-sounding tracks played. Neither physically, mentally or morally able to play such tracks, I let DJ Vitaly take the reins for an hour or so while I made two glasses of wine (naughty) last me for the duration of his set plus the lengthy strip/erotic show.

Refreshed, back up to the decks and bang into it with tough yet accessible tracks.

After the gig jumped in a taxi with a policeman in the passenger seat, who was later handy in deflecting traffic police wanting to stop us, and back to Natalia's aunt's for the night.

The day after did the usual touristy things - walked about, took photos, got lost, and bought souvenirs. In the evening we went to an Armenian restaurant where there was another family and relatives get-together plus promoter.

In the very early hours of Monday it was back to the airport for the night flight back to Moscow.

All in all, good trip. Hope to get back there again as the hospitality is second to none. And no doubt by then "The World Is Mine" will be forgotten. Surely.