Twelve years ago today, Madders sold his majority share in Sundissential to James Priestly and Giles Smith for an undisclosed sum, thought to be in the region and ball park of £550,000.

The two fashionable young men from London were brash. They had a canny business plan and quickly set about tarting up the brand. They then done this there then here:
  • Relocated Sundissential to London
  • Restored the party to Sunday afternoons
  • Controversially changed the name to Secretsundaze
  • SACKED Lisa Lashes, Tidy Boys and Paul Glazby
  • Made themselves resident DJs
  • Dropped the hard from the house
In 2013 Secretsundaze is in a much healthier/trendier state than Sundissential was in 2001. I was lucky enough to be living in Birmingham during the many Tony De Vit memorial parties - which were genuinely terrific tributes but exceptional in the sense that the other fifty one parties of the year were gradually being taken over by school kids wearing yellow wellies and old folk off their heads on beer and speed. Sundissential circa early noughties was, on the whole, fucking appalling. Madders takes a lot of stick but selling his baby for the sake of the baby's future was a very bold move and illustrated the sensitive side his screaming and swearing over the top of peak time Ian M sets often masked.

Moving the party to London, renaming it and changing the music policy was the shot in the arm it needed. I've been right behind the party from the start and I don't even regret the Sundissential tattoo I have on my chest, inked before they scrapped the logo.

On Sunday afternoon I got the tube to North Greenwich and sprinted round to Studio 338 with Micky John and Nikki.

"Tonka plus two."

"Nice to meet you sir. Here's your exclusive plastic yellow wristband"

With a shake of the head and a laugh out loud we all walked through the front door and sniggered at the punters strutting about wearing the paper wristbands.

Soon after buying myself four bottles of Becks for £18 I high-fived a woman wearing a white Ff American Apparel t-shirt and enthusiastically pointed at the Kk on my chest whilst winking.

One Becks, two Becks, three Becks, four. I meandered into the dancing area for some aggressive disco by Floating Points and felt myself getting a bit drunk.

Five Becks, six Becks, seven Becks, eight. I remembered that I had an Ableton Push controller in my pocket that I had to chuck at Portable for his/her/their live set. Which was fucking brilliant.

Nine Becks. I went on the prowl for pills whilst dancing with Micky John and Nikki. Micky John was fucked before we'd even got to Bond Street. He'd been sucking balloons all morning and sounded like Alvin! Omar S was on next and we were sorted. Winking smiley face.

In my head I announced Omar S to the crowd like Madders would have done were he still involved:


Soon after starting his set with some serious Detroit dance music, he played Don't Go by Yazoo and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. They fucking did, I'll be honest.

Allow me to digress.

I'm going to digress now whether you like it or not.

Studio 45 in New York is famous for glamorous music and a clientele consisting entirely of celebrities and people in the music business. These days you could say the same about Secretsundaze. Not only was Tonka (me) striding around like the Thin White Duke but Kristan J Caryl aka Mr Teshno aka a proper good writer, was sitting around making notes and looking all mysterious.

After recognising the distinctive top-knot and black cotton tee, I plucked up the courage to tap him on the shoulder and ask, "is this deep house?" If you're struggling to picture this historic meeting, it was a bit like when James Joyce popped into his local boozer in Trieste and bumped into Howard Marks sat in the snug "reading" Club International.

I was coming up quite heavily at this point, I'd lost Micky John and Nikki to the smoking area and I all I could do was tell Kristan how beautiful his blog was and how amazing it was to finally meet him. Omar S, the anticipation of James Priestly's closing set and the thrilling, throbbing, thronging Sunday afternoon crowd made for a heavy, hopeful atmosphere. An experience I am proud to say I shared with Kristan J Caryl out of Teshno.

I digressed.

Secretsundaze at Studio 338 was fucking brilliant. I'd definitely go again, and you should too. I was going to go up the Elephant and round the Castle for the night party but Micky John said he was getting the evils and wanted to go home. Outside North Greenwich tube, I handed my bright yellow wristband to a member of the homeless community and urged her to hitch a lift to the Coronet...

Secretsundaze x Go Bang day time party at Studio 338

Follow them here: @secretsundaze
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Not many nine out of tenners knocking about in the Weekly Review of Dance Music. Well done, lads!

I'll be back very soon with more MASSIVE QUESTIONS, posts, reviews, news and the very first WRDMFM podcast. Definitely.

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