Those seven years of Yellow at the Boardwalk were wonderful, week in and week out, and the sense of achievement was even greater because we'd were originated the night from nothing. Back in 1992 the music we wanted to champion wasn't getting played around town - soul, proper disco, classic 70s funk. House was everywhere of course, some of it good, some of it grim, but we wanted to hear other stuff, and we played stuff by Bobby Byrd, the O'Jays, Cheryl Lynn, the Salsoul Orchestra, and 90s stuff that fitted; like the Young Disciples, early Mo' Wax. It's not unusual to hear music like that now maybe, but back then there was no-one else doing it well at all. That's why we got 500 people every week down St Peter's Street putting up with dodgy toilets and all those doormen we used to employ. I think it lasted so long because we were determined to survive the ups and downs of nightlife; we knew the music would win out in the end. We had very few guest DJs, although they were always good quality - Bob Jones, Norman Jay, Norman Cook (in his Freakpower era) - but it was us regularly; me, Jason and Elliot. The regulars were the best thing about Yellow, absolutely. It's easy to get misty-eyed about the past, and I'm happy to admit that in many clubs these days you might get DJs who are better technically than we were at the time, or better toilets, or better security, but you never get a better audience than the one we got at Yellow; very Manchester; a brilliant mix of black and white, students, single mothers from Sale and Droylsden, dental nurses from Chorlton, Cheshire girls, Moss Side boys. You get that kind of club once in a generation.