A towering and imposing figure that makes Tall Paul look like a circus midget, Zane Michael is The Bradford Lounge's travelling DJ. With his star rising quickly in the Brisbane club scene, Zane Michael delivers a serving of sexy electro with a sprinkling of club house beats right to your dancefloor doorstep.
His numerous visits to the Bradford Lounge never fail to please patrons who are privy to the finest display of live 'A capella' and Bootleg remixes known to man. When Zane Michael plays.....the snozzberries taste like snozzberries...
"Your parents don’t worry for those that pick fights. For during the day they are the motor that runs civilizations. They postmark your letters. Wire your money. Hell, they print your money. But that money is no good to me. You can’t buy what I give.
Your parents don’t worry for your walk home. They know that each person is just as strange as the next, hoping desperately to be accepted, whilst aching to be left alone.
Your parents don’t think about your future, for you will surely figure it out.
Your parents worry about me.
For I can bend time.
I alleviate concern.
I equalize people.
I warp your reality. I take it and replace it with what you don’t know that you need.
I take a sixty hour week and write it off in a few short moments. With no official beginning, and no discernable end.
Your champagne aftershave matters not; within a few minutes it will be replaced with the sweet stale smell of funk and sweat. Your shoes matter not, for I move your feet at my will. No one can see how much you spent on them anyway. Their only purpose for tonight is to prevent me from giving you a blister.
You spent hours on your makeup, but it matters not, for I am the one that makes your eyes shine and your cheeks flushed. Your boyfriend worries for me, for he knows that it is I, not him in control of your body tonight. He knows that with one swift movement of my hand I can make you wet, and lose him in a sea of bodies.
Your girl worries for you. When I am in the room, you are unable to communicate any longer in the usual mediums. Interpretive doesn’t begin to describe what I’m about to do to you. For you are simply a vessel for something you can’t see. Your head rolls back, looking skyward. You think you’ve found what centuries of books have been written about.
Midweek, you catch yourself thinking about me. You don’t know why. You don’t know me. You couldn’t recognize me in the street. You caught me in the record store once, but I was sitting in a stack of records up to my chin. I couldn’t hear you for the research.
Come Saturday, your phone rings. “lets do it-†and off you go. You don’t know why. You don’t know why they do either. But it matters not once your there. Once you take that first step on that floor. You’re mine for the evening. I am the new shaman. And before the sun rises tomorrow, you and I are going for a ride."
By Adrian Matyear
Saturday at Family 'Uncle' resident
