Blurb:

In the mid 90s, I found myself playing cultural catch up. I’d resisted the charms of raving and electronic music that had taken over my little group of suburban pals. I saw myself as the last bastion of some sort of authenticity. So, while they all bought decks and developed tastes in techno and jungle, I evangelised about Mudhoney and mourned the end of the Pixies.

I had plenty of records, that’s for sure. My Saturday job wages were spent on whatever new indie delights were on offer in the local Our Price. I had my uncle’s old ‘studio separates’ in my bedroom and an ongoing war with my mum and dad about volume (arguments about Ride and the necessity of hearing their FX up loud made
little difference). I didn’t have any electronic music though. I resisted it. I never went raving or clubbing and said that people who did were pricks.

Of course, it was me who was the prick. I was (and am) a contrary bloke and my resistance was nothing to do with the quality of the music or the culture. It was just me seeking a bit of attention. All it took was a night out in London to change it all. Reluctant at first, I went along to see Josh Wink DJ at Sound Shaft. He played ‘Higher State of Consciousness’ and I heard a 303. Bang.

I love acid now and I love the 303. On the rare occasions I get to DJ at parties I
always work my way towards an acid wig out. I’m a late adopter that’s for sure but now records that screech, whine and blip are religious icons. Three of them in particular. This is the story of how I found them, when I’ve played them (and what decks I’ve played them on) and what they (sort of) sound like.