So I'm at home last Friday after a long hard week, relaxing after some food and everything's nice. Except there's this nagging feeling in the back of my mind.

GoodzGoodzGoodzGoodzGoodzGoodzGoodzGoodzGoodz...

Ohshityeah, it's Durrty Goodz at Heatwave! R U Dumble? So I jump in the car, slam in the NASTY Crew sessions CD from about '03 and get in night drive mode. Normally my night drive is autopilot these days, heading for east or south, but this time it's west. I never go out in west, in fact I drive past the spot we ended up at carnival this summer, which was the last time I'd been out in west, and that in itself had been for the first time in even longer. But mostly I drive known routes now.

The thrill of the dark unknown makes this nightdrive particularly delicious. Recently, when a studio session was going nowhere, I debated getting in the car and just driving, TomTom off, to some corner of London I've never been to. Just keep taking turnings until I'm long past properly lost, exploring. But this journey's a good 'un. Somewhere near Brondesbury a guy tries to throw himself in front of the car, not to escape certain death, it transpires, but to get into a phone box. Damn, that must have been one important call.

Inside the club I feared for Goodz. Well, I feared he hadn't even showed. The dancefloor was patchy and when they dropped his classic vocal of "Pum Pum Stealer" there wasn't a flicker of reaction.

But the crowds slowly built and who's that over there, hat down rocking the black combats and the biggest gold chain you've seen since Rakim? Damn Goodz has made it. I duck into the shadows and wait for the PA.

The second Goodz takes to the mic it's on. "Gather round people, gather round..." he spits on the small stage, before launching into an Axiom-ish PA.

Now I can't lie, most PA's are air. By and large gimme 15 mans on stage in a Sidewinder/Dirty Canvas clash, rather than a PA, but Goodz is different. Everything you know already about his music, his energy, is lyrical dexterity and content is just hyper magnified by him when you add the visual angle.

His arms flail, demarking different axis' in the air. His hat is on, then off, his eyes glare. Never has a one man PA been so compelling. "You can see I'm one MC, I dont carry no hypeman, I'm the hypeman, I'm the hype, man..." he jokes. In 30 high octane minutes, he kills it.

The audio of the PA is here download it here.

After the PA, Gabriel from Heatwave talks Goodz into some mobile phone video-bars (democratised portable technology massive stand up!). Not wearing a bling chain but actually some humble shells, Goodz is barely begun when this guy, who's not even been in the club comes past and jumps in. Brave man. He doesn't die the expected death but bwoy there's no touching Goodz. Wanna know what's best about it? The smile when he spits.



A lot of grime MCs go to extreme lengths to convey how dark they are. Goodz just smiles his way past them. Quite a few non-music people have said to me how scary Goodz' eyes were in the Margins Music video, I should show them this.

So I jump back in the Focus, pop in "RIP Youngdot" and wonder how I'm ever going to get out of this cold west London industrial estate. But the glow of Goodz fire keeps me warm.