Zoot Circus Tour
by DJ Spin Doctor

At the end of the summer 2004 I was lucky enough to be invited to join the circus, we ain't talking no jugglers or lion tamers here, just a coach load of clowns.

The Zoot Circus tour was a trip taking a combination of pro skaters, graffiti writers, film makers & my good self to 12 cities in 5 countries throughout Europe in order to make a modern day road movie. Due to the SoulBrew boat party over carnival week end in London I joined the rest of the crew a few days late but soon made up for lost time. My first stop was Barcelona & having made my way to the hotel & caught a few zzzzz I hooked up with the circus, this group of friends both old & new were to be my staple company for the next couple of weeks, just one problem, there was not one female face among them.

That was soon forgotten once on the streets of Barcelona where I hooked up with pals from the Lunatiks Crew of B-Boys & B-Girls to shoot footage around the city of them dancing while I spun some tunes. All went well until we met the friendly local constabulary at a wicked spot near the beach. We managed to get as far as unpacking the equipment before the boys in blue told us to be on our way. Still all was not lost as that night I had been invited to bring a little SoulBrew flavour to our Latin amigos at a club in the centre of town. The circus mixed with the locals & tourists alike & fast made a name for themselves as a party crew that would do any SoulBrew event proud. Once back at the hotel the producers of the film provided a little late night entertainment with some willing and able ladies of the night. It all got a little much for one of them who proceeded pull a whitey, lie on the balcony & miss all the fun.

From Barca it was onto the tour bus in the willing if not always able hands of Bob our driver. Uncle Bob, as I liked to call him was, by his account, an ex military police officer with a girl in every port, although you wouldn't believe it to see him. He was a bull dog of a man with missing teeth & a penchant for exaggeration. With Bob behind the wheel & Emilio behind the map we made our way out of Spain and into France, destination Montpellier & one of the most picturesque outdoor skate parks I've seen. It was too good an opportunity to miss so I unpacked the system & spend the afternoon spinning records in the gorgeous late summer sunshine & giving the budding DJ talents Chris Oliver & Tom Crowe a few tips on the one & twos. This was undoubtedly one of my highlights of the tour, stunning weather, fantastic skatepark, great company, the boys skating & bombing the back of the ramp & the rare chance to DJ in the open air. This is what djing is all about!

From there we headed to the Bowls & beach of Marseilles. Another great outdoor skate spot with the Mediterranean as a back drop. This picturesque park seemed to good to be true but having watched a dispute between local hoods end up with one guy being stabbed in the arm I was glad I heeded the advice not to unpack the system here. Once we had hit the bowls & beach to our hearts content, fed ourselves like kings & enjoyed a few ales it was time to head back on the bus for another few hours journey. With a little help from Yusuf, Pete King, Emilio, a bottle of Martini (stolen from the hotel bar by a girl I only vaguely remember), a pack of Agent Provocator cards & a friendly game of cheat with the additional rule of "You Loose, You drink" the road was eaten up beneath us & before we knew it, or could remember what our names were, we were in Lyon! I was not feeling too clever the next day to say the least but the boys showed their true colours as they proceeded to launch themselves off ramps & down vert while I settled with for the ever so lsightly less athletic persuit of eating pizza & drinking vast amounts of water.

Switzerland was next & it's no wonder they need those tax free accounts when pizza hut charge £20 a throw. Like any budding entrepreneur I took the opportunity to open my very own account in the Schweizerische National Bank. So I am now confident in the knowledge that my 10 euros are slowly but surely gaining interest in the vaults by lake Geneva. "This time next year Rodders my son…."

Credit where credit is due though they sure know how to spend the money they've got. In Winterthur we discover Zanadu's pleasure dome, a converted railway warehouse that housed a climbing wall, an indoor beach volleyball court (yup a giant sand pit), a bad ass go-cart track & probably the finest indoor skate park in Europe. Again the decks and system were unpacked, set up & thrown into action while the boys did their utmost to injure themselves on the mother of overhanging cradles. Having had about as much fun as we thought we could handle we decided to go hell for leather and hit the go-carts. With the sound of Eric Clapton's old formula one theme tune playing in my head I soon discovered why I have no driving licence & why I'm likely to be going without one for some time yet. Still no one was killed, although Crok tried his best as he leapt from the cart, which he had successfully wedged under the barrier on the second corner, only to be missed by millimetres by the oncoming traffic. With award ceremonies out the way, the checkered flag stolen & given pride of place on the bus it was back to our seats & another brain cell destroying game of cheat.

Next we had the pleasure of Frankfurt! While Catesey busied himself in a various dens of inequity we planted ourselves in one of the most entertaining bars I have ever had the pleasure of frequenting. Hired to perform for the roomful of desperate middle aged men & hopeful hookers was a band like none other I had previously experienced. Synthersizers, 80's electronic drum kit, guitar & microphone were all managed heroically by what appeared to be the Thai version of the Brady Bunch. While the youngest sister dazzled us one & all with her interpretations of hits both old & new the climax was reached when they were apparently joined on stage by mr lover lover himself Shaggy to pronounce "It wasn't me". In fact they had gone one better, while Shaggy himself was presumably still sunning himself in Hollywood his voice box had been borrowed by a diminutive drummer in a tuxedo. I think it is no exaggeration to say the place went wild, at least as wild as middle aged men & hookers can go without splitting their flies or popping out of their dresses respectively.
With fond memories of Germany behind us it was onto the last leg of our trip, Holland. With Eidhoven & a 3 hour set at the Bakery coffee shop the first port of call leaving Amsterdam & the wrap party still to go I think I will leave the rest to your sordid imaginations. Let me just say this, if you ever get the chance to run away and join a circus it comes highly recommended!

Disclaimer: Due to security reasons, amounts of alcohol & soft drugs consumed, lack of sleep & the safety of those involved some of the names, times & places of the events accounted for above have been changed or forgotten entirely.