“Andy Whitby is not just a hard house DJ, he is an experience.

He is a state of mind.

He is the transporter of minds and souls to an amazing frantic paradise that, while leaving you knackered, strangely also leaves you feeling re-invigorated.

At 6ft tall and broad-shouldered, with his trademark shaved head, a chunky ostentatious chain around his neck, and immaculate dress sense (if its not designer, it doesnt go anywhere near him) he makes an imposing figure who commands respect.

His confident appearance is matched by his masterful control of a good mixing desk. Before each set he always powers down the previous track and leads the packed dance floor in a show of appreciation for the out-going DJ, before kick-starting his performance into a blaze of visuals, an orchestra of special effects which extracts every quality beat of each track as he begins his show.

To watch Andy DJ is part of the Whitby experience. Cocky? Perhaps, but certainly not arrogant, Whitby is now in control of the minds and bodies of his audience. A very precise and confident body language gives a visual indication to what he is playing as he acts out each track.

Yet, he is not dancing; this is something far more emotional. Imagine watching a porn star having hot, rough, yet passionate but dominating sex to a breathless, wailing lover which, in this case, comes in the shape of a mixing desk. Forceful, dominant, aggressive yet somehow tender and caring. The visual impact allows your body to further immerse itself in the ecstasy he is submitting you to; your ears alone cannot possibly absorb everything that he is throwing at you.

As for his sound, imagine every track as a partially completed canvas. Through the use of effects on the mixing desk, Andy adds his own colour, texture and feel as he maximises every beat of every track to create the unique Whitby sound. His precision mixing at incalculable speeds is part of the show; as each track mixes in you can positively feel the dance-floor going up a notch to keep up with the frantic and energetic DJ that has them all by the balls.

Wagon's pulling us.
 Wagon's dragging us. 
 Wagon's too us is a man's lost ambition. 
 There is no pain greater than another... Just the duration. The ambition of humans washed away the coat of paint; Rust forms on Libido Wagon.
 Crusted eyes... Chapped skin... 
 At the dawn of our arrival; The Wagon passenged us all. 
 Sunshine... Rain... Sleet... 
 We braise in everything we'll ever meet... 
 Us all. 
 ...Wagon pulled... Wagon turned over... 
 Carriages pulling us.
 Carriage dragged me, her, him... Us All.
 "Dawn of restoration" 
 She tells me its okay to not cry anymore.They hold every which situation
 It becomes adaptable, its impressive.. 
 Morbid darkness contained: Enclosure.
 Rapid images beneath the cricket noise,
 Contained furry.. 
 Categorical Timed Memories, stretched from corner to another...
 Timbre catologicaly scatological expansion.
 Life... " the ground cloud" ground clouds for all of us? Blurred mist, Mixed within darkness. Blurred mist.
 I wake to shaded pixels.
 Today no more.
 She showed me a gift, I just received.
 Planned words, shattered limbs; It was non more. The emotion that I could recursively recurred, to the Ecuador improvisation in my being. Always and Forever stood.
 My mind is now happy; Full of joy-full thoughts... My mind is now spliced. 
 My heart is now happy; Full of enhanced jams... My heart is now validated
 Somewhere in deep, clattering hope... clings to motive. Earth opened my eyes, shuts my ears; Aloud faith too. 
 Somewhere out there is my pre-determined setting in my story... It longs for my knowledge I've gained in the touchy area of critical thinking. 
 Thus I wake, longing for this meeting. 
 Upon arrival; I'll feel a pre-determined caution I never felt. Streak in my bones... Face of gloom.
 Thus I lay, longing for this awning.
 Upon arrival; I'll search my lucid shell. Blur in my face... "Face?" 
 I cut the branches
 I wiggled my way through; avoiding as many cuts and stitches as I could. 
 I made it through the jungle, what's in-front of me... I don't know.
 My eyes will adjust... My being will adjust. Transcendent realm I lined into... Illusion's punting me higher. Levitation is the only choice I choose. I'll let her pull me into this realm, such as a catfish in-linked to the fishing reel. We swim.. Others fish. I choose to sufficiently plummet in her kitchen.
 -Austin Taylor Norris 


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