It's the ravers worst nightmare- The headliner has canceled. It's happened to us all at one point, you get to the venue, pretending you're not clock-watching while the preceding sets rumble away before the main attraction sheds his coat and dons his headphones, only to then be notified some way or another that this will not be the case tonight. There's no getting away from the sinking feeling we all felt when this has happened to us, but sometimes it's just a little more difficult to swallow than usual.

Arriving at fabric at midnight Saturday to pick up our weekend wristbands and observe the highly speculated set-times for the dozen or so names lined up over the 30 hour extravaganza, we, and probably everyone else in Farringdon were greeted with that familiar sinking feeling; signs were liberally dotted around outside the nightclub gingerly informing all that due to 'severe illness', Ricardo Villalobos won't be playing at the party. His 'love' sent from his sickbed was no consolation for anyone.

This wouldn't have been so awfully disappointing had it literally been anyone else. Famed for his notoriously epic sets, Ricardo Villalobos in essence is fabric. Although I wasn't there when he headlined fabric's legendary 10th birthday, it's no secret that he played one of his best parties yet. Free from the time-restraints a 24 hour license and fabric's bravery permits, the Chilean stole the show with several magnificent sets, even in Room 3 at one point. We all expected something similar this time, at least Ricardo leading the way in his beloved Room 1 for a couple of memorably hypnotic sessions, perhaps concluding B2B with Craig Richards? It was not to be. Talks of an ear infection spread around the club, but the bottom line is that if Ricardo Villalobos cannot play at fabric's birthday party, it's for a good reason. Hang on, who's this replacing him last minute? Luciano!

There is arguably only two other DJ's who's individual profiles could perhaps come somewhere near filling the void of Ricardo Villalobos' at fabric's birthday party. One of them is a certain Canadian whose small-room club days do appear to be only a distant memory, the other is another (almost) equally controversial jock who ironically also has his roots in Chile (and also emigrated to Europe later on). The slightly highly-strung Villalobos aficionados will have their conspiracy theories, but to make such a swift substitution with such a high-profile name as Luciano is certainly impressive to say the least. I don't think any fabric-goer, including myself would rather have anyone over Ricardo by choice, but with his absence completely out of any of our hands we needed something special to raise our bruised spirits. Fabric certainly did very well. Ricardo's 'love' sent from his sickbed may not have been any consolation to us, but an unexpected 4 hour set from Luciano on Sunday afternoon went some way.

After the initial shock and obvious disappointment, the required attitude for anyone still intending to step foot into the underground abyss had to be 'Get Over It'. As crudely unhelpful that may sound, it's pretty much all you could do unless you wanted the most eagerly anticipated event in London all year to be savagely compromised. The professionals that we are of course, we instinctively embraced this mentality and eagerly made our way back in properly at about 3am, gliding past the admirably committed queue that could have possibly been touching the barriers of Farringdon Station. Our first impressions? This is a birthday party. Silly hats, masks, fancy dress; in an underground backdrop of exposed brickwork, steel piping and the relentless thump of techno, it was a delightful contrast and a welcome break from the usual characters waiting at the bottom of those stairs. Âme had already begun his live set in Room One, which was predictably packed. Instantly noticeable was a new visual addition to that legendary cave of a room- to the left of the stage where Âme tweaked and fiddled a powerful session of their deep, minimal beats, a stunning rainbow laser sprayed multicouloured beams into the feverish entourage on the dancefloor. This made an immediate impact- If there is one thing Room One lacked it was perhaps a few more visual elements. No longer the case.

I must confess, my memory becomes a little hazy after this, for one reason or another. I can only estimate who, and what, I remember next up until about 1pm Sunday afternoon. I'm sure I'm not the only one with such symptoms (in my case, distinguishing between business and pleasure is not always so simple). I'm fairly certain sets from Craig Richards and Lee Burridge followed, but separately, not as Tyrant. We would have to wait for the pair's B2B session until sometime on Sunday afternoon/evening. The first helping of Richards was predictably inspiring. After only a little over a week since I experienced him manipulate the rough edges of Bristol's Motion, closing SMD's Delicatessen night, he was back at home and draining everyone in Room One of all reality with his unique and utterly compelling taste for electro-tinged minimal house vibes. One thing I have discovered about my (approximately) 1 year long love-affair with fabric is that although Craig Richards is something that you might not come to appreciate fully at first, in time you will begin to realise how absolutely remarkable this little guy from Bournemouth is, and then start to religiously cherish every mesmeric set in his hands. Ok, maybe that's a slightly over-subjective opinion but that's sort of how it went for me. And now, with the added convenience of living a stones throw from EC1, I feel like capping every Saturday night off with a bit of Craigy. There is just something just undeniably addictive about his style and he certainly didn't disappoint with his first session of the birthday- but then if anyone would want to do a fabric anniversary justice, it would be their original resident and music director, surely?

Lee Burridge inherits many of Craig Richards' traits. Unsurprising as the pair together have become synonymous as Tyrant for many years. On his own, Burridge is another master of the fabric soundsystem, testing it to it's inconceivable limits with dubby, breaky house sounds piercing the smokey air of Room One. It takes more than just that though to keep a dancefloor so fervent at such a time of day, and Burridge has very much a similar ability to Craig Richards in being able to select, and mix, in such a way that everything seems so unpredictable. So when the Kink remix of Marc Romboy & Blake Baxter's Muzik crashes down with that famously dense bassline, Room One's dancefloor erupts as if it was the very first time the tune had been dropped anywhere, despite being almost a staple of Burridge's and Richards' sets for some time now. Ironically, together as Tyrant, it was dropped to explosive reception later on that day in what was unquestionably one of the finest sets of event. More and more ever-funky, quirky basslines that you associate with both legendary jocks.

Without meaning to skip on too far (although chronology is far from paramount importance here), before Tyrant (I think) we had the pleasure of a turbulent live set from zany French trio dOP, and a, lets say 'controversial' 4 hour groove from Mr. Villalobos' replacement, Luciano. Now, I'll confess I'm not usually all that fussed over live sets. I won't go into why but I just prefer the energy and unpredictability of DJ sets, depending on the DJ of course. So I wasn't particularly excited for dOP's slot in Room One on Sunday evening. But credit when credit's due, they did put on one helluva show. Demonstrating why they've titled their first album 'Greatest Hits', it was a thoroughly surreal and exciting exhibition of the idiomatic vocal house style they've become notorious for. There was champagne, liberal doses of black-label vodka drip-fed to the front rows and the lead vocalist stripping off his shirt to the slightly disturbing delight of so many people that crowded Room One. All of this underpins their character and musically what they're all about, and they did get the place rocking with some thumping basslines and delicious synth work by the duo behind the tables.

But before dOP, while most of London moved onto the supplements of the Sunday newspapers or sat down for Sunday lunch, we descended back deep underground after a short, but essential break to catch Luciano's set. The expectations were naturally enormous, unreasonably big considering this was a relatively spontaneous session for the Chilean. But that's life as a 'superstar DJ', precisely what Lucien is. Rarely does any performance from a very high-profile DJ go without criticism from at least some. Music's most scrupulous jock-Nazis have to find some terrible spinning crime (you have to question the position these people are in to make such outspoken judgements), whether it's bad looping etiquette, slightly-off cueing, or in Luciano's case here, DJing like an Oceana jock, apparently.



A 4 hour set starting at 1pm on Fabric's 11th birthday party- who really could deny Luciano having his fun. From the moment we stepped through the doors at the foot of that stairwell we could sense a considerably more fun atmosphere- Kids In The Streets' Keep On Turning pounded from Room One where the fancy dresses and strange props seemed to be intensifying in regularity everywhere you looked. Even Luciano himself could be seen sporting one of the many masks which appeared to have been handed out to all at one point. As the sunlight flooded in through those shutters, all these quirky elements made me remember where I was. This wasn't just any fabric Saturday night. This not only was actually Sunday afternoon, but also a celebration of 11 years of nothing but the best deep, underground techno bellowing from beneath the surface of central London. All the more reason to keep it rigidly loyal to that sound? Perhaps, but Luciano being Luciano felt like lightening the tone a bit, a welcome divergence many would agree. There was Old Sunshine, Tim Green's colourful Tech House number, there was even Cassius' The Sound Of Violence, all of which kept everyone dancing frantically. So what was the problem? Ok, Luciano did seem to have the amusing infatuation with using outrageously inappropriate acapellas over his groovy basslines. We're talking Whitney Housten and Kings Of Leon here. Shocking? Yes! Destructive? No way. And while the purists plotted their cyber-revenge on the post-rave forums, the vast majority of us in there laughed it off and continued to enjoy a deliriously enjoyable afternoon. Sure the purists can have their say, but I can guarantee they were grooving too.

From thereon, things started to get weird, even for fabric's notoriously bizarre standards. The party had been rocking for 18 hours solid and that was only just past the half-way point. Tyrant, dOP (both discussed above), Dixon, Damian Lazarus and Craig Richards/Tobi Neumann all still had highly anticipated sets to play. We tried out the vibes of Rooms Two and Three, but every time we felt the irresistible pull of Room One, which is where we conceded to spend the vast majority of the next 12 hours. We began noticing the physical and assumed mental decline of many other long-stayers whom we recognised from early Saturday night. Resurfacing to the club's smoking area was a constant psychological challenge for myself and most others who began questioning what on earth the time actually was, and on what day. This, however, was very much the point of such an event and back inside though, whatever time it was, the party was still rocking.

By about 8pm, many who now swarmed around the pulsating core of the club that was Room One and the surrounding suburbs were those who's night had just begun, having just entered for what would be one of their most surreal Sunday evenings ever. To join those who had obviously been there for what was approaching an entire day, must have been to both their amazement and slight disturbance. Dixon took the helm in the main room and was simply magnificent. The Innervisions head delivered an exceptionally eclectic mix of slick techno and house but sharpened with various other electronic flavours, even rock at one point- a solitary guitar-driven record which many will know the name of, unlike me, could have made the floor crack open at one point. Those kind of frequencies on that soundsystem was something I hadn't experienced previously, and it was quite memorable.

After a ruthlessly pounding Terry Francis session, as the clock hit 11pm and the party had been officially swinging for 24 hours, Damian Lazarus was already on and entertaining. The fanfare of the event as a whole probably overlooked the fact this was also an opportunity for Lazarus' to launch his newly mixed addition to the fabric CD series, not that it made any difference whatsoever. When it seemed Dixon couldn't be topped, Damian sure gave him a run for his money. A sonic impression of how to spread dancefloor happiness, even for those who had been grooving for a whole day. He simply would not let anyone stay still. Imagine the humour of his album Smoke The Monster Out, blended with the energy of a Sven Vath set and the intelligence of Tiefschwarz and your somewhere near this 2 hour ride. It was at this point that me and my companions then began to realise how easy doing this was. Ok, dancing for going on 18 hours takes it's toll on your body inevitably, but even I questioned at the beginning how sustainably stimulating it would be to just keep on going for so, so long. Believe me or not, I didn't want to leave- I felt as excited as I was when I first stepped inside all the way back on Saturday night.

As we effortlessly grooved into Monday morning, it was time for Craig Richards and Tobi Neumann to close the show. What a treat. While Neumann joined in the party antics, donning in a pink wig and then orchestrating poorly received birthday wishes for fabric, occasionally rummaging around for the odd "12, Richards got on with business. As I lingered around the booth, a region of Room One that was blissfully uncluttered at that time, I observed Richards as he gently mixed in the Audiojack remix of Cash The Chord by H.O.S.H. What struck me was his demeanor behind the decks. The guy has been doing this for 11 years exactly, to this demographic of half-zombiefied aficionados every week, yet he dances around with such feverish enthusiasm you would think it was his first night there in that legendary box, with all those toys to play with. But then that is what fabric is all about- longevity and passion. And no night there has ever encapsulated it better.