Bugged Out is a party that span out of the fanzine Jockey Slut. Back in the mid-90s that publication quickly became a syndicated magazine, and now in the 2020s goes by the name Disco Pogo. This August the party celebrated its 30th birthday with a 12, 000 strong event at London’s Drumsheds. To commemorate the anniversary the publishing arm have also produced a book. The tome’s 256 colour pages candidly document Bugged Out’s ups, downs, and ups, via interviews arranged as an oral history, and accompanied by tons of flyers and photos. Detailing a journey from Manchester University and local underground soirees, to the warehouse space of Sankeys Soap, situated in the post-industrial, pre-gentrification wasteland of Ancoats, to Liverpool’s Cream, weekenders in Prestatyn, seasons in Ibiza, moves to London – Fabric, Heaven, The End – through house, techno, big beat, breaks, electroclash and “superclub” excess. All told by the organisers and DJs in the manner of old friends sharing / remembering tall tales. 

The ever erudite Adam Turner. was a regular attendee for a number of years, and here he shares a few of his own Bugged Out memories

In 1994 venturing north of the top of Oldham Street in search of excitement and thrills was not for the fainthearted. You might go to a gig at Band On The Wall, but crossing Great Ancoats Street was virtually unheard of. Until Sankeys Soap opened up in Beehive Mill, a former soap factory in Ancoats. Today Ancoats is thriving, the epitome of modern Manchester, regenerated / gentrified with flats – lots and lots of flats- coffee shops, pizza restaurants, bars and all the other signifiers of modern life. But in 1994 there was no reason to go to the top of Oldham Street and cross the road… until Sankeys opened.

Daft Punk “Da Funk”: Daft Punk played Bugged Out, famously sans helmets, and dropped Da Funk. It caused a storm. The first time I heard Da Funk was in a club on the edge of Bolton called The Hawthorns – long story – and it sent me careering to the DJ booth to find out what it was.

Finding Sankeys Soap was part of the problem. When we went, we never seemed to go the same way twice. The streets were industrial / post-industrial / derelict. It was as if Beehive Mill moved, to keep you guessing. Coming out was ok – in terms of direction- you exited, turned right and headed for town and a nightbus from Piccadilly or a taxi. But finding it was always an issue. You could just cross Great Ancoats Street and wander in the right direction, tag long behind a group further up the road, hoping they were heading for Sankeys. If they were wearing Carhaart coats and woollen hats, this was probably a reasonable guess. The area was dingy and undeveloped. That was part of why we liked it. Walking to or from Sankeys felt edgy. It was dark and you were off the beaten track. But once there, it was a sanctuary of mid- 90s clubbing mayhem.

Chemical Brothers “Chemical Beats” 

From the same period Home on Ducie Street was the most threatening club we went to, the dance floor often peppered with rogues and thugs. On the other hand I met Eric Cantona in there on the occasion of my 25^th birthday so it wasn’t all bad. This was during the period he was banned for kung fu kicking a fan at Crystal Palace and Eric had a lot of time on his hands I suppose. Why he ventured to Home is anybody’s guess.

Green Velvet “Flash”: Check your speakers. This might break them. Next level mid-90s techno. Sweat inducing. 

Sankeys became the number one spot in mid- 90s Manchester for the right kind of clubbing. Bugged Out was a huge part of that. Residents James Holroyd and Rob Bright were always worth the journey. The guests were first rate- famously they put Daft Punk and The Chemical Brothers on, fairly early in both act’s lives (1). 

LFO “Tied Up”: Speaker rattling, industrial and very northern.

As well as those two Bugged Out also had Andrew Weatherall. We went all over the north west to see Weatherall. On one occasion we got ourselves onto Andrew’s guestlist at Sankeys, via friends of friends (2). We joined the guestlist queue – myself, my girlfriend / soon to be wife, two friends from Manchester and three who’d come over from Liverpool – and waited. In those days, I always half expected that guestlist touches wouldn’t happen, that names wouldn’t be down, that you’d be turned away. The list was checked, we were on, and we were ushered across the courtyard with a shout of, ‘These are Andrew’s guests!’

I floated over the cobbles.

Dave Clarke “Red 2”: Oof. A monster. Mellow synths, frantic drum sounds. 

Weatherall played a blinding set. When we caught him in Liverpool, at Cream, he always found a sweet spot between house and techno. At Voodoo – also in Liverpool – he went full on “Panel Beaters From Prague.” At Sankeys, though, he played whatever he wanted, throwing hip hip and dub in before working it up into a 4 / 4 techno outing.

Ron Trent “Altered States”: As played by Carl Craig. Minimal, inventive, dramatic.

On another occasion we saw Carl Craig. This felt like a night out with techno royalty, a genuine Detroit legend, The genius responsible for 1995’s Landcruising, an album that we played endlessly. Craig was out of this world at Bugged Out, mixing on the bassline, gliding from one sleek techno record to another, a master at work. The club was dark, always dark, but the dancefloor friendly on the whole. It was post-industrial. God knows what it looked like in daylight. We weren’t fussed. A 19^th century mill turned into a club was just fine. No frills and sweat dripping down the walls was part of what you factored in. It wasn’t the clean lines of the Hacienda or the post-modern cool of Dry. It was an old mill. It felt like one and smelt like one. You could wear what you liked. For a while, it suited us down to the (damp) ground.

Der Dritte Raum “Tiefsee”: A Rob Bright favourite. Builds nicely, bass hits hard, becomes quite intense. That actually describes Bugged Out in the mid-90s quite succinctly.

I don’t quite remember all the DJs we danced to Bugged Out. We went often, but not every time.  We took nights out for granted in the mid-90s, young, kinda carefree, it didn’t seem like an event to head off to Sankeys to see Darren Emerson, Justin Robertson or Dave Clarke. These were the DJs that we were into, but back then, if you missed them, you knew they’d return again soon. However, as the mid- 90s became the late 90s, people moved away, people had kids, clubbing, inevitably, took a back seat. Bugged Out moved on too. But for a couple of years, from its opening 1994, it was the centre of our clubbing world.

NOTES

1. We’d seen The Chemical Brothers at the Annex in Cream previously and didn’t bother with them at Bugged Out but that may well have been our loss.

2. Much later, decades later, I realised that this was due to a connection to Ian Weatherall, Andrew’s brother, who I’ve now met several times at AW events at Todmorden’s Golden Lion, but at the time I don’t think we were even introduced.

Bugged Out – It’s Just A Big Disco will be published by Disco Pogo on November 28th.

You can find more proper, on point, prose from Adam Turner over at his own brilliant blog, The Bagging Area. Adam is also part of the admin team at the mighty Flightpath Estate.