Recently uploaded on Youtube, a reminder of quite how absurd the nineties really were. Megatripolis was a deranged London club which tried to combine psychedelic trance music, innovative pharmacology, lots of day-glo and consciousness-raising discussions with the likes of Alan Ginsberg and Terence McKenna. Which was how, as a young journalist working for Wired magazine, I ended up some time in the small hours of the night in a sweaty office at Heaven, interviewing Arthur C. Clarke over an ISDN videolink to Sri Lanka. This was being relayed onto the dancefloor, where several hundred pie-eyed psychonauts were disturbed to find themselves coming up on their pills listening to an entirely beat-free conversation with an elderly chap who wanted to know what the guy behind me was smoking. Four minutes of confusion below.