FROM MY vantage point on the balcony overlooking the sweating, heaving 1800 strong throng at the Leeds Town and Country I am struck by the number of black curly barnets bobbing up and down to the strains of Isaac Hayes' 'Shaft', which is emanating from the speakers.
No, it's not a Brookside staff party, they're afro wigs and those sporting them are passengers on the Brutus Gold Love Train, a '70s disco extravaganza which has been packing them into venues the length and breadth of Britain since 1989. High on the stage, attired in his trademark zebra-striped skintight jumpsuit, shades and platform shoes, Brutus Gold, DJ, director, disco king, jester of jive and lord and master of all he surveys, stands behind a console spinning the platters that matter on the steel wheels.
The set is well lit, furnished as it is with more bulbs than a Dutch tulip farm. The walls and backdrop are as stripey as a barber's pole and decorated with an array of potted foliage and several enormous portraits of various '70s icons: Burt Reynolds, Starsky ... Hutch stars Paul Michael Glaser and David Soul, Michael Spinks, John Travolta and Lee Majors. "Who is your favourite star from the 70s?" enquires our host with the boast.
With his followers at fever pitch, Brutus introduces the cast members of his cheesy disco show and one by one, they emerge clapping and dancing from the wings before forming an orderly line across the stage. The crowd greets each and every character with frenzied applause. Strangely, they're all different and yet each and every one reminds me of Huggy Bear, the low-rent pimp from the aforementioned Starsky ... Hutch..
There's Tony Martini, the Italian Stallion from Pisa, Italy; Willis Hardy Freeman, the Kung Fu kid from Miami, Florida; Denys Fisher and Milton Brady, the female anatomy students from Beverly Hills; Marshell Cavendish, the ladies' man from Brooklyn, New York; Kaye Tell and Pippa Dee, cute and pretty from New York City; Bernie Inns, with the three chins from Doncaster; and Bri Nylon, the synthetic dancer from Milton Keynes. He's not man, Brutus reveals, he's man-made.
By now, the disco is in full flow, the stage looks like the set of Pulp's 'Disco 2000' video after being gate-crashed by The Village People, and Brutus Gold urges his minions to mix with their people and bring forth only the most attractive. They play the room while Brutus, the predator, circles the stage on a Raleigh Chopper. A particularly ravishing young lady is ushered onstage and Brutus has his wicked way. By the time the three-hour extravaganza is nearing its close, the stage is a seething mass of disco depravity with Brutus calling the shots. Then, just as suddenly as it embarked, the Love Train pulls into the station and all passengers are urged to move forward to the front, to disembark . . . until next week.
There are two stories in circulation concerning the origins of disco legend Brutus Gold. Both are believable, but only one is true. Romanticists believe that Brutus is really Nigel, an opportunist from Middlesbrough who developed his alter ego in five minutes, basing him on a real life DJ, Tony Capri, from Stockton-on-Tees.
Those of a more practical disposition, however, are firmly convinced that in the summer of 1989, a seafood restaurateur in North East England noticed a bright yellow glint in a large block of frozen Atlantic prawns. His curiosity aroused, he took out his ice pick, began chipping and discovered a gold medallion. Unable to believe his luck, the restaurateur continued his icicle work and discovered a living legend: the sleeping form of Brutus Gold, a Puerto Rican disc jockey and disco gigolo who had been missing, presumed dead, for 10 years.
It seemed that a decade previously, the janitor at Fernando's Dancing Palace, San Juan, had turned up the air conditioning to full power during 'Disco Inferno', an ill-advised move which resulted in the air chemically reacting with the dry ice in the room, which froze the disco in suspended animation. Years later, global warming ensured that the club began to thaw, floated out to sea and broke up.
Having been rescued and warmed up with several large Bacardis, a slightly disorientated Brutus made three simple requests: he wanted some chicks, his record collection and his beloved Dodge Charger 440 T Magnum (which was later recovered from a Sunderland-based frozen food warehouse). A few days later, his audience were picked up by the crew of a Spanish trawler, having been kept afloat since thawing out by the air in their platform shoes. Reunited, but stuck in a fashion timewarp, Brutus Gold and his disco friends began travelling the length and breadth of Europe with one aim: to reinstate disco to its rightful place - The Dancefloor.
Backstage at The Town and Country, before their show, Brutus and mysterious, strong and silent Tony Martini, the Italian Stallion (and a dead ringer for Al Pacino circa Scarface) are taking questions from the assembled press corps. The fact that a sizeable proportion of the hacks present are decidedly pissed ensures that the questions come thick and fast. But mainly just thick.
Random Drunken Hack: So Brutus, what's the Love Train all about?
Brutus: Well man, it's just fun and funk. I wouldn't call it art, it's a girl thing first and foremost.
Why do you think it's so popular here in Leeds?
I can't really answer that man, because I just don't know. It certainly doesn't work like this in Scarborough.
Do you like the Bee Gees?
Oh yeah, brother. The original is always the best. It comes from the heart, it's disco passion!
Who's your favourite Charlie's Angel?
Jacqueline Smith. What do you think, Tony? (Tony nods in agreement. It's as animated as he gets during the press conference, apart from grinning incessantly at the only female journalist at the table.)
Are you in this for the money?
Of course I am, but it's a chick thing too. We just do what we do and we take our music with us.
What kind of groupies do you attract?
Well, we get groupies of all ages, from 14 years upwards!
Isn't that illegal?
Sorry, did I say 14? I meant, eh, 16.
How much of the show is vinyl and how much is live?
I would say that it's 99% vinyl and 1% live.
What do disco kings drive these days?
I can only speak for this disco king (points to himself) and he drives a Charger RT 440. It's a muscles car. I always hustle in my muscle.
You're coming to Ireland soon, what do you know about the country?
I know you got beautiful chicks and I'm told they never refuse a drink.
Have you got a message for the citizens of Ireland?
Ireland, lock up your daughters!
* The Brutus Gold Love Train play Midnight at The Olympia every Saturday (not August 8th) until 22nd August.