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Mr Nice

Soap bar, mosquitos and brillo pads...

“It was Ibiza, 1998, and I had spent several days ligging behind the decks with the world’s best DJs desperately trying to figure out how they did it, but no-one showed the least bit of interest in letting me have a bash on the wheels of steel until Edinburgh’s Voodoo Club offered me a gig out of the blue. I took a flight there.