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No DJ is as obsessively scrutinised as Alexander Coe. Sasha can expect every track he adds to his set list to be noted and disssected by legions of trainspotting admirers. His famous residency at Shelleys in Stoke on Trent qualified him for the role of DJ messiah, and as clubs got super, Mixmag made him their superman, but despite years of adoration he’s remained a fun and friendly fellow. This interview took place when he was first enraptured by the possibilities of Ableton and the papers were filled with the death of dance music.
Is the buzz of DJing still the same for you?
The buzz now, or the buzz when I was 18? The whole scene was different then. Everything was edgier and more underground. It all felt like it could fall apart at any minute. DJing at warehouse parties in Manchester, you never knew what was going to happen. That was a real buzz. But I just played in Buenos Aires in an outdoor stadium to 23,000 people and they were going fucking mental, it’s an amazing buzz. Doing things like my residencies in the states and coming back to play Fabric every now and again. It’s still a massive buzz.
It happened, fittingly enough, on Mixmag’s Club Tour. There was a queue to shake the DJ’s hand, a little unusual perhaps, although not for Sasha. But surely there’s never been a DJ before who has had some wide-eyed chap inviting him to snog his girlfriend. It was the telling point. He may only be a DJ to many in the South, but in the North and the Midlands the man is a flaming hero. And whereas there have been plenty of star DJs before, Sasha is the first to be so successful precisely because of his DJing. After all the hyperbole and rhetoric, Britain’s dance revolution has arrived. In person.
DRIPPING sweat in a nightclub in Leeds, a very, very large man pulls on my sleeve. Shouting above the roars of whistles and screams he says, “You want to know about the man called Sasha?, I’ll tell you why he’s so good... “ He smiles and wipes more sweat from under his hairline, all the while swaying patiently in time, his hands flicking under and over each other like spawning salmon, his eyes bulging wide. “It’s because... because... “ he smiles again, even wider this time, and shrugs, a great shake of his body that sends the sweat cascading down his torso, “ ...he’s the man.” And, with a final shrug, a final nod, he’s falling back into the crowd, arms held high.
ALEXANDER Coe does not like having his picture taken. He grimaces. He sneers. He even grins, but he will not pose. The pin-up DJ – whose legend-like status has fired stories of girls flinging knickers at him (false), Queues of thousands outside clubs in towns virgin to Sasha by 9pm (true) and a name so potent that The Man Like Sasha became abbreviated to simply The Man Like – will not smile for the birdie.
“I’m sorry,” says Sasha, swigging from another bottle of Rolling Rock, “I just hate having my picture taken.” Much to the amused amazement of a photo studio staff used to a train of models, actors, wannabes, even – today – light fittings who will all do anything to be photographed. Then the coyness of Alexander Coe when it comes to being Sasha has always been a big chunk of his appeal, the Sasha myth.
No DJ is as obsessively scrutinised as Alexander Coe. Sasha can expect every track he adds to his set list to be noted and disssected by legions of trainspotting admirers. His famous residency at Shelleys in Stoke on Trent qualified him for the role of DJ messiah, and as clubs got super, Mixmag made him their superman, but despite years of adoration he’s remained a fun and friendly fellow. This interview took place when he was first enraptured by the possibilities of Ableton and the papers were filled with the death of dance music.
Is the buzz of DJing still the same for you?
The buzz now, or the buzz when I was 18? The whole scene was different then. Everything was edgier and more underground. It all felt like it could fall apart at any minute. DJing at warehouse parties in Manchester, you never knew what was going to happen. That was a real buzz. But I just played in Buenos Aires in an outdoor stadium to 23,000 people and they were going fucking mental, it’s an amazing buzz. Doing things like my residencies in the states and coming back to play Fabric every now and again. It’s still a massive buzz.
It happened, fittingly enough, on Mixmag’s Club Tour. There was a queue to shake the DJ’s hand, a little unusual perhaps, although not for Sasha. But surely there’s never been a DJ before who has had some wide-eyed chap inviting him to snog his girlfriend. It was the telling point. He may only be a DJ to many in the South, but in the North and the Midlands the man is a flaming hero. And whereas there have been plenty of star DJs before, Sasha is the first to be so successful precisely because of his DJing. After all the hyperbole and rhetoric, Britain’s dance revolution has arrived. In person.
DRIPPING sweat in a nightclub in Leeds, a very, very large man pulls on my sleeve. Shouting above the roars of whistles and screams he says, “You want to know about the man called Sasha?, I’ll tell you why he’s so good... “ He smiles and wipes more sweat from under his hairline, all the while swaying patiently in time, his hands flicking under and over each other like spawning salmon, his eyes bulging wide. “It’s because... because... “ he smiles again, even wider this time, and shrugs, a great shake of his body that sends the sweat cascading down his torso, “ ...he’s the man.” And, with a final shrug, a final nod, he’s falling back into the crowd, arms held high.
ALEXANDER Coe does not like having his picture taken. He grimaces. He sneers. He even grins, but he will not pose. The pin-up DJ – whose legend-like status has fired stories of girls flinging knickers at him (false), Queues of thousands outside clubs in towns virgin to Sasha by 9pm (true) and a name so potent that The Man Like Sasha became abbreviated to simply The Man Like – will not smile for the birdie.
“I’m sorry,” says Sasha, swigging from another bottle of Rolling Rock, “I just hate having my picture taken.” Much to the amused amazement of a photo studio staff used to a train of models, actors, wannabes, even – today – light fittings who will all do anything to be photographed. Then the coyness of Alexander Coe when it comes to being Sasha has always been a big chunk of his appeal, the Sasha myth.
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