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Layered washes and pools of light articulate the huge volume of the room, two floors tall under its glass roof, bringing an excitement to the space that the hubbub of the guests intensifies. From the railings edging the galleries, serpentine streamers in bright metallic colours, interspersed with silvered balloons, fall to varying depths. Floating above the ferment, Herbie Hancock’s piano, textured with the tones of flugelhorn and flute, weaves a dreamy web. I feel your presence beside me, I feel your head held high, as we walk into the room.
̶ Ten minutes. That’s the time you’ve got to get to know each other before I move you on.
So says Adelaide as she leads us across the room. Funky bass line, earthy feeling; sax, synth and drums: Threading its animality through our spinal marrow, Herbie Hancock’s ‘Chameleon’ gives our stride an offbeat energy.