Back in December I wrote this for the NaSTA (the National Student Television association) website.
It t’was the night of Deadmau5,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a….dead mouse?
Another DeadMau5 competition winner, the irrepressible Hannah Smith, shares with us her story about the journey to see Deadmau5 at Earls Court.
I’m often teased about my increasing addiction to Twitter, but this time it had come up trumps; having won, thanks to the NaSTA Twitter competition, the chance to film the last night of the Deadmau5 tour. Scoff all you want my sceptic (but jealous) friends, I am off for a night to remember. “Don’t be silly- of course you’re not going to London in this weather!” scoffs my mother as she peeks through the net curtains at the blizzard of snowflakes hurling themselves at the ground.
Forty minutes later and I’m stuck at the station crammed under the shelter with what I initially presumed to be normal London commuters. After tutting at the increasing numbers as the timetable screens delays it’s obvious that everyone else is getting as twitchy as I am. Turns out that the growing amount of people I was being slowly sardined against were going to precisely the same place I was; Earls Court in London to see Deadmau5. “They better not cancel the gig,” mutters one of the fellow stranded. “We’re not going to get there before it starts” cries another. ‘You think you have problems’, I silently curse, ‘I’m meant to be there half an hour before doors open. Argh.’
Finally on the train- which only seems to hold those going to the concert, I comfort myself with fantasies about the type of camera I could be using. Microphone booms, military style radio mics and I was just plotting on how I could commandeer a crane when my friend’s text interrupts me. “At least the tube won’t be delayed! The snow won’t affect the underground…. Famous last words. What luck I have; delays, delays, delays.
Enough grumbling about transport failings. After meeting three other students, sniffing and then stuffing ourselves with free food and being handed small but (we were assured) mighty cameras we were off. Our mission: to get well and truly stuck in with the crowd, film reaction shots and have a good time. Have a good time? Oh, it’s such a hard life…
As the vast Earls court started to fill up Nick and I spotted a Mr. Zane Lowe wafting around backstage. To my faint horror and mild amusement Nick took up my dare to read out his Christmas cracker’s joke to him. He was not amused. “Who is he?!” asks Alex a little too loudly and a little too closely to the Radio One DJ.
Our celeb spotting going smoothly and our backstage passes securely attached it was time to let ourselves loose in the crowd. Walking out into the heaving arena, lights low, spirits high, the beat was the kind that thumps through your whole body, that makes your head spin a slightly and your limbs get a little overexcited. Just the lighting display was a sight to be in awe of.
Clambering through the mass of dancing bodies to the other side of the stage that dives through the middle of the arena I’m aware that most people have little objection to having a small camera shoved in their faces. I am pretty sure they thought I was just a video-happy fellow raver. Yes random guy, yes I am filming you taking t-shirt off and whirling it around your head. My main concern, other than trying not to get squished, was trying to not get hurled forward and lobbing my camera over a few heads.
Our one condition for filming the concert was we were not allowed to take the camera off of record. “Even if you need to nipout to pee, and you go to the bathroom, you are NOT allowed to stop recording! I want everything!”we were briefed. Thankfully no such nipping out was required but due to the constant filming the camera’s sturdy little battery died before the end of the show. Limbs all still intact and clothes relatively beer free I snuck backstage again only to see a buzzing Deadmau5 running around with a toy cat.
Goodbyes said and equipment handed back I’d forgotten about the ludicrous amount of snow still falling from the sky. Getting back home turned out to be a major headache and all the trains from St. Pancras had been cancelled. So it looked like I was in for a night in London. Two and a half hours after leaving Earls Court and meandering around Ruislip in the ice I finally made it to my uncle’s house. I was shattered, but it had been more than worth the trouble getting there and back. The moral of the story is to wear sensible shoes and to not listen to one’s mother’s advice. Thank you NaSTA for a fab night and an ever consuming appreciation for woolly socks!
News Editor, LSTV.