The important thing is that you, dear reader (and very soon listener) are about to be furnished with a way to pretend you were at tonight's Lucky 7s.
Lucky 7s is almost 4 years old. It came about when my mate Niko said he had a great idea to bring people down to the pub we were running in Nunhead. People bring their own 7" singles and DJ themselves. I promptly told him it would never work there (and I was right, we did try several times) but that it was perfect for The Gowlett. And there you have it. Nearly 4 years later, every Thursday night a normally sane and peaceful corner of Peckham's South West reaches - and a vital 200 metres before the postcode and the size of one's horizontal stripes, apparently -changes. More of that another day maybe... It's a celebration of music, pure and simple. There is no bad music or good music in my humble opinion, just music. Sure there are arrangements of the 7 available notes and their variations that some may feel are better than others, but without the sh1te you wouldn't truly appreciate the sublime.
There are few rules to Lucky 7s, but it seems prudent to mention them:
1) You bring records. 45s. 7" singles. Whatever you choose to call them.
2) You play them till the fool with the mic tells you it's not your turn any more (generally 15 minutes)
No censorship (other than due to mahoosive scratches). No complaints (other than from our neighbours). No extra time (even though most people seem convinced they more than anyone else deserves at least one more choon).
And that's it really. Never could we have imagined quite what a several headed monster we would unleash upon The Gowlett, but Thursdays will never be quite the same. Sometimes 200 people, sometimes 20. OK, only once or twice 200, but it has happened, and my god what nights they have pretty much all turned out to be... For many many reasons, across a large spectrum of brilliance. So now we are going to record it all and post it here. Who knows what next? Well I do, if I'm honest : a few terse looks in the school playground at drop off time on a Friday morning from neighbours, a stinking hangover and at least one memorable snippet from the night before. Christ, I hope I can shake Wuthering Heights from my head before I attempt sleep...
Seems it doesn't work. But I will post a link tomorrow. When I've worked out how. Oh dear.
Hey. Guess what. I think that by the time you lot wake up, this should work!!
