Fatboy Slim : Live On Brighton Beach

Exactly that. And very good too...

Back in the old days, Brighton revelled in its

reputation as the holiday home of sin, a place that

promised all manner of no-questions-asked,

Mr-And-Mrs-Smith licentiousness. Now that dance

culture has done its bit to smash inhibitions,

however, the national fondness for furtive fun has

been replaced by full-on Friday-to-Sunday hedonism.

Few have done more for the cause than Fatboy Slim, so

it’s no surprise that on July 6, 2001, he was allowed

to annexe Brighton seafront for his own hometown

spectacular, drawing 35,000 people seeking good vibes

only the ever-liberal seaside city and the red-faced

master of tabloid beats could provide.

If you weren’t there, listening to this CD is a bit

like stealing somebody else’s holiday snaps to show to

your friends. You can hear the good-natured cheering,

the way the music mixes like a particularly

gregarious swingers’ gathering, yet it’s still a dead

artefact. Yet Norman Cook undoubtedly gets a party

started like nothing this side of a bowl of

rocket-fuel-punch, unashamed to mix Underworld‘s ‘Born

Slippy’ with his own ‘Right Here, Right Now’, or
Leftfield‘s ‘Phat Planet’ with ‘Sunset (Bird Of

Prey)’. He’s got the timing of an end-of-pier

comedian, a consummate professional who knows exactly

when to drop in a stuttering sample of ‘Fatboy Slim is

Fucking In Heaven’ or Raven Maize‘s ‘Bohemian

Rhapsody’ – sampling ‘The Real Life’. It’s as easy as

hooking ducks, sure, but the sense of goodwill is

tangible, as charming and boisterous as shepherds

frolicking on a hillside or wenches drinking mead. A

festive romp, in other words – and as souvenirs from

the coronation of The Prom King go, better than a

commemorative mug.

Victoria Segal