Fatboy Slim : Live On Brighton Beach

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been replaced by full-on Friday-to-Sunday hedonism.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