Review from Sandman magazine:

The C90 party posse must have the itchiest feet in Sheffield’s clubbing fraternity, refusing to remain at one venue for more than one soiree. The Grapes, Bluewater, Bar Abbey and The Corporation have all had it in the face from their beat cannon, which is aimed firmly left of centre. Like the pied pipers of electronica leading the faithful around Sheffield this time they held court in a secret location that was as unconventional and raw as the acts and djs who have frolicked at their night. The space was perfectly suited for nefarious electronic gurglings to submerge one’s synapses in complete with visuals sprayed across the venue’s dilapidated interior.

Juliun C90’s opening set must have taken the more po – faced by surprise, not in sync with a Wire subscriber’s wet dream of unassuming bleeps and squeaks. These beats were laid down for the feet rather than the more boffiny of the clientele to measure and analyse. It was a shame that only a handful of attendee’s were present to listen to the man. Grime, ragga, jungle and other biggies such as Snoop’s ‘Drop it like it’s hot,’ Aphex Twin’s ‘Windowlicker and Jacque Lu Cont’s ‘Na, Na, Na’ were the equivalent of hot dance floor tarts who don’t so much nuzzle your ears as grind up against you and frig your lobes until you have no choice but to shake some proper booty.

Mancunian’s Bitstream were the live act to take the stage and have just unleashed their debut LP, Domestic Economy 7, on the Modern Love label. Rumour has it the record has taken the pair the best part of ten years to create and perfect the dark electro grind they belt out, a complex blend of turntablesque trickery and digital beats. The bass brutality and warped, lurching electronic funk that the speakers splurged forth instigated a mass robotic stomp from the sizeable crowd present. Bitstream themselves remained stationary in their coats with looks of intense concentration displayed across their rather dour features for the entirety of their set. Two serious looking blokes standing behind two laptops does not provide much in the way of performance but the vicious stripped down electronica more than compensated for the fact we could be watching them check their emails.

The ‘bring your own’ ethos of the evening created the aura of a rather fine house party where anything could happen and unfortunately, if not somewhat predictability, resulted in our party consuming all our beers in just over 2 hours without the restraining mechanism of a bar being in place. This enforced an earlyish departure from proceedings as Jim Backhaus from the London Internet Radio station, Resonance, began to hold the decks to ransom. As we departed, thoroughly pissed up and utilising the walls as handy balancing aids, rude digital ragga was being pummelled out putting massive dents in our ear drums and massive smiles on our faces. Fucking great. - words: Jim Ottewill