Lost Track of Time reaches new heights at Concorde rave

By Stas Forte, Music Subeditor

If you asked me where I'd be spending my Saturday night, underneath Concorde probably wouldn't be my first answer. Bristol seems to keep outdoing its reputation of throwing raves in unlikely places, and I knew this was one not to be missed. The prospect of being in a room with an icon of aviation history was exciting enough, but a venue this spectacular always risks becoming a gimmick. Looking back at this night in full flight, however, it seems the only way is up for Lost Track of Time.

Now, I'm not the most clued in on aviation, so I can't say I even knew there was a Concorde near Bristol until someone told me there was going to be a party underneath it. Concorde Alpha Foxtrot (G-BOAF) was the last Concorde ever built and is now permanently housed at Aerospace Bristol in Filton, in a purpose-built hangar. It landed back at Filton on the 26th of November 2003, meaning it took the final flight by any Concorde in history, making it particularly special!

But how would it fare as a music venue?

For starters, any room that can hold Concorde, can certainly hold a decent crowd. With around 1000 attendees, there was a healthy balance of high energy, whilst allowing for plenty of breathing room. The plane mapped out the dancefloor, with radar-inspired graphics projected on its undercarriage adding to the vibrant atmosphere, and warm orange and pink lighting filling the space with a euphoric glow.

Concorde famously expanded in size as it heated up from the friction caused by supersonic speed - the same effect was witnessed that night, this time caused by the heat from the fire tunes.

The hangar's build also allowed for surprisingly complimentary acoustics. The clean and balanced soundsystem carried the funky disco and house tracks being spun throughout the space, starting off with a mix of laid-back 120 BPM grooves that gave the impression of jetting off on a luxury holiday. Headliners LF System later raised the tempo with their selection of feel-good disco-house, whilst peppering in a couple of crowd-pleasers such as Lipps Inc's ‘Funkytown’.

Refreshingly, the draw of Concorde gathered a crowd beyond the typical Bristol student night, with people of all ages equally excited to party in the iconic setting. Guests leaned into the aviation theme, with pilots outfits dotted around the dance floor, while the dancers seemed to have been pulled straight out of Britney Spears' ‘Toxic’ music video.

I was one of the lucky few who had the chance to actually go inside the plane itself, which was surreal to say the least, and a certainly a great one for the next time I play two truths and a lie.

As the cabin resonated with the bumping bass below, I tried to imagine what it would feel like to be hurtling up to 1,470 mph through the atmosphere. Concorde travelled faster than the Earth's rotation, meaning passengers flying west across the Atlantic could watch the sun set, only to see it appear to rise again as they continued on their journey.

I must admit that it also crossed my mind how good it would have felt to light a cigarette in there back when smoking was still allowed on planes - the 90s truly were a different time!

It's particularly heartwarming to see Concorde given a second life as a backdrop for Bristol’s nightlife. The aircraft was almost cancelled twice, in 1964 and 1974, before entering commercial service in 1976. Among the economic and political arguments for keeping the project alive was the importance of maintaining jobs in Bristol.

There was a pleasant sense of irony in watching an aircraft built to move people across continents become the centre of a night bringing Bristol’s own communities together. The lighting, sound, crowd and music all worked around the aircraft, and the night offered something far beyond a typical Saturday night in the city.

After its retirement, brought about by high operating and maintenance costs alongside the devastating 2000 crash and subsequent decline in demand, Concorde could easily have become a relic of a bygone era. Instead, it remains a remarkably vivid part of Bristol’s cultural landscape, and, for one night, a very unlikely dancefloor.