on gay homoeroticism
At the club Liberty, you can hear this taking effect. ‘Here come da basslick,’ shouts the MC, and when the B-lines drop, the girls shimmy downwards to a crouch, ragga-style. Thing is, there actually aren’t many ladies on the dancefloor, probably because the music’s nothing but sandworm-wriggly low-end frequencies. ‘As soon as the treble and the big vocals disappear, suddenly it’s all blokes,’ says garage scenester and vocal scientist Bat. ‘Usually, it’s like this all-girl moshpit up in front of the DJ booth.’