In the 90s, Norman Cook, aka Fatboy Slim, was the unstoppable king of electronic music. Now sober, but addicted to gourmet food, he arrives in Tel Aviv to bring down the house just in time for Purim.
It usually happens in front of an audience of tens of thousands of people who have lost their mind. They jump, scream and smile, throwing their hands up in the air as if their lives depended on it. On the stage in front of them, a slim, barefoot 54-year-old man with the grin of a goblin, is jumping and screaming just like them. It’s Fatboy Slim, and every single time he takes the DJ stand it becomes the wildest party in the world.
Looking at him behind the console, he seems like a man who just took 12 ecstasy pills and washed them down with a bottle of vodka, and then sniffed the entire dance floor. He’s probably the most sober person you’ll meet, now that he’s been off alcohol, and other nonsense, for 10 years, but his mind still operates in 90s mode, in every sense. The line of hits that Cook released at the end of the millennium turned him into one of the boldest icons of the electronic music revolution. Critics showered him with compliments and named him the first international superstar DJ. Christopher Walken danced like crazy in his unforgettable music video for “Weapon of Choice,” singles flew to the top of the billboard charts, one after the other. For a brief moment, Fatboy Slim was the hottest thing on our planet, and then he got fed up.
“I don’t think I’ll ever record again,” he says joyfully. “It just doesn’t do it for me. Spending days and nights in a studio doesn’t fit my lifestyle. I play about 100 days a year, I travel a lot, and I want to spend all my spare time at home, being a good father, not caved in with loads of equipment. I’m not a musician, I’m a DJ.”
© PR
What? But you made great music. Everyone said so.
That’s very nice of you and everyone else, but all we did is play around with equipment and samples in a studio. It made sense when we could make money from albums and singles, but those days are over. I don’t need to release a new album to get invited to play at a festival. So why do it? It has no appeal as far as I’m concerned.
You don’t want to be a mega-celebrity like you were?
Maybe. It was amusing at first, but I saw very quickly how things could go wrong. You see stars that only want to become bigger, with more fans, more publicity, more money, more of everything. For a short moment, I also got carried away in that, but I caught myself just in time.
Don’t you feel like making the world explode with another hot “Rockafellar Skank”?
No. Not at all. I’m past that. I like making people dance and lose it. I do it at clubs with 400 people, and festivals with 40,000. This is what I love doing, and as long as I can, I see no reason doing anything else.
I saw your set at the last Glastonbury Festival, and you had such a blast it was hard to believe you’re not taking anything.
Yes, I hear that all the time. Since I’ve gone off alcohol I’m really straight-edge. All I need is a huge sound system and an audience that wants to party, and then something happens to me, some sort of click in my brain that puts me in party mode. If you’re in for the long haul, you need to quit with the shit. I highly recommend it.
And yet, you incorporate a good share of your music in the sets you play.
Just here and there, small touches. I don’t play a set of my greatest hits, I don’t think this is why people come. I put them in a mix for a few seconds just to blow everyone up in the air, but it’s just to get the wild party going. It’s not a night of nostalgia.
Is the aging clubber’s nostalgia for the 90s something you ridicule?
Not at all, it’s nice for old folks like me. Those were awesome days. But the crowd that comes to festivals, at least part of it, was only born in the 90s. And when they say, for example, that the acid-house sound is making a comeback, its just fake nostalgia because that sound never disappeared. It just means the last time you’ve been at a good party was a decade ago.
In recent years you’ve collaborated with big EDM DJs, but also had a lot to say about the phenomenon. Where do you stand?
I’m ambivalent. The fact that the U.S. has finally opened up to dance music is great, and it got me a lot of work there, so I can’t really complain. But they don’t fully get it, and some of the stars are really just wankers with no talent. But perhaps they’ll come to understand; maybe it’s only the beginning.
I read that you have a method for deciding if you’ll play somewhere or not.
Yes, the five Fs. Every gig needs to have at least three: Finance, Fun, Favor, First and Food.
Which of the five does Tel Aviv have?
This will be the first time I’ll be playing there, so you have the First. It’s also sort of a favor I’m doing for my agent, so you have Favor. Finances are covered, I’m pretty sure I’ll have Fun and I heard you have great Food, so there’s a chance for five out of five.
Are you a foodie?
Oh yes, and it’s ridiculous. I beg my friends to stop buying me cookbooks and kitchen gadgets. They’re like “what can we get Norman? Ah, he loves gourmet food, let’s get him the new Jamie Oliver!” I have 10 copies already, thank you very much. But it really is a huge thing for me. I once booked a gig in Barcelona just to eat at elBulli.
And was it good?
Oh lord, it was amazing. Every bite reminded me that I have the best job in the world.
Mar 12. Doors open at 16:00. NIS 249-429. Fatboy Slim, Hangar 11, Tel Aviv Port