CityLife

Dance Nation: Basshunter + Angel City + Fragma + Nordic Stars

“WORLD of Warcraft players put your hands in the air!” commands Basshunter, Europop pin-up du jour and the back end to Cascada’s pantomime horse.

It’s a pronouncement that’s emblematic of how ‘uncool’ 24-year-old Jonas Altberg is. But then there’s something perversely heartening about how the happy hardcore scene sustains itself away from the media.

Despite its ubiquity as a club track and ringtone, Radio 1 refused to play Basshunter’s Now You’re Gone (officially the biggest selling single of 2008) until the week before it reached No.1.

You could argue there’s an element of class-racism involved. Often dubbed “council house”, clubland record label All Around The World once claimed that the BBC haughtily refused to playlist their tracks because they released “music for kids who live on estates”. 

Bouncy house

Tonight, in an Apollo that’s emptier than David Cameron’s promises, the kids are going beserk, waggling their glowsticks in the air and being led in spirited chants of “Oggy-oggy-oggy” by an MC.

The effect is akin to Chucklevision with added bpms. First up is Bolton’s Blackout Crew, a five-piece who resemble less a band and more a police line-up.

Having made waves with the catchphrase-pop of Put A Donk On It last year, they plough through their mix of bouncy house and rudimentary rapping. Embellished by their endearingly-literal choreography, they take it to the (TK) max with the absurdly enjoyable likes of Dialled and Ravers Binge. 

Then it’s onto the main draw, the Cheesemeister Supreme. Flanked by G-string clad female dancers, Basshunter has all the musical depth you might expect from someone who has album named ‘LOL’.

Meaningless pop

Like a trancey Eurovision entrant, he bludgeons you with his lack of variation: all generic gym-soundtrack beats and synths that sound like a kazoo being strangled.

It’s difficult to hate him though – as he whirrs through the likes of All I Ever Wanted and an egregious cover of Nick Kamen’s I Promise Myself (nowhere near as good as the definitive A-Teens version) – he has the delirious expression of a man who’s just flogged a load of Magic Beans to Jack. 

Occasionally he’s joined by vocalist Lauren Dyson, and as the pair croon away to a backing track on a stage that has all the production values of a regional gay pride, the image of a hard-house Dollar is hard to shake. It’s also tricky to begrudge the teens going ga-ga down the front.

Yes, it’s the apotheosis of meaningless pop, but criticising Basshunter’s lack of musical merit seems tantamount to moaning that a clown’s gags at a four-year-old’s birthday party are “a bit obvious”. Nice work if you can get it, Jonas.

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