Clubbing in Boston, USA.

Chrome @ Club Axis; Lansdowne St., Boston

Avaland @ Club Avalon; Lansdowne St., Boston

Chrome @ Axis and Avaland @ Avalon were comparatively different, and both were completely opposite to the London scene I’m used to.  First off, Chrome on Thursday was a bit more laid back.  There was no dress code, and although the security followed me around for the first two hours, they were harmless little kittens compared to the Avalon staff, one of who threw my friend out before he had even paid his money to get in (don’t ask…).  The music at Axis was slow and lacked the heart thumping euphoric ups and downs I’m used to. To classify it, I’d say it was jungle/drum and bass.  It was mechanical and stayed that way all night.  I didn’t hate it, but I wouldn’t choose to listen to it again.  It made the dancing harder and it took more energy to stay on the dance floor for any length of time.  The music at Avalon was a bit more transcendental.  They called it “progressive dance music” even though I didn’t sense too much progression.  It was, however, easier and a bit more fun to dance to.

The crowd at Axis was less than lively.  The dance floor filled with the pace of a snail, and crammed with skinny college girls wiggling around, trying to look sexy and failing miserably (in my opinion, anyway).  Surrounding the dance floor were beefy college guys in tight black t-shirts watching the girls, and sort of half bouncing up and down to the music.  There were a few true clubbers there, with glow sticks and baggy trousers, but not enough to let me get away with my fluffy white skirt and UV active armbands.  Feeling pretty miserable about my surroundings, and not being able to get a drink at the bar (US law states that you must be 21 to drink alcoholic beverages…bah!!!) or get anything else for that matter, left me feeling a bit homesick for the Fridge.  It was then, when I met a few British folks.  We chatted for a while, and their friendliness renewed my hope for the evening.  Looking around the dance floor once again, and feeling utterly disgusted at the fact that only four people were actually dancing with any emotion or full-on-ness, I did what any dirty London clubber would do; I stood up on the podium and started dancing at the floor, willing them to liven.  I did it for London, I did it for bunchofcaners, I did it for the Fridge, but most of all, I did it for myself!  I realized an important thing at Axis; if the night’s not working for you, you must work for the night.  And work I did.  The hours passed without much ado.  And, at 2am, when the clubs must legally close, I left feeling tired, sweaty, and happy; happy that I turned such a potentially shit night around. 

Avalon, the next night, was better in regard to the music, the liveliness, and the fact that they had transvestite dancers wearing hot pants and matching colored wigs.  It was worse for the dress code (no trainers!  What?!?) and the pretension, which hung in the air all night like the smell of a rotting carcass.  There were no friendly people, unless you count the guys who came up to me with the sole purpose of taking me back to theirs for a sexual rendezvous.  I’ve never felt like such a second-class citizen.  Because it was a Friday night, though, the crowd was a bit more fucked up, and therefore, a bit better with the whole dancing thing.  I, nonetheless, decided to get up on another podium and dance at them.  Because the night before prepared me for the type of people who club on Lansdowne St. in Boston, I was a bit less annoyed with everyone, and decided just to ignore them, and do my own thing without fear of what they must think of me. 

The drugs and alcohol situations were really what surprised and saddened me the most.  Lansdowne St. is reported to be one of the driest clubbing streets in the US.  All of the clubs are located within 1000 feet of a school zone, which means that anyone caught with drugs of any kind gets a MANDATORY one-year prison sentence.  I don’t know who’s idea it was to come up with that law, and I don’t know who’s idea it was to put clubs near a school zone, but nonetheless, the law is the law, and in America, laws like these are enforced with heightened passion.  The result is a complete lack of the comedy value you get in a club filled with people off their nuts. The type of people who go to the clubs on Lansdowne Street are also the type of people to judge and roll their eyes at anyone who’s asking for pills. The alcohol was expensive ($6.50) and illegal for the under 21s.  Being a “dirty yank youngster” myself, I was not entitled to drink my night away.  Isn’t it about time the US got its act together and made it legal for us 18-20 year olds to drink?  I should say so. 

My suggestion for anyone wanting to experience the Boston clubbing scene is to buy a nice, black outfit, complete with shiny black dress shoes, and either be over 21 or get a fake ID, and go in with your nose high in the air.  Don’t dance, unless you have a girl/guy to grind with, and be ready to end your night at 2:00am.  My suggestion for anyone not wanting to do this, but wanting to go clubbing in Boston, look around for the seedier places.  Try Chinatown, I hear there are some full-on clubs down that area (Viper, for one) and there are always after parties if you know where to look.  I’m not saying that Boston doesn’t know how to club, they just club differently.  And if you’re into that, that’s fine.  I’m not judging anyone.  I will say, however, that Boston does not know the meaning of the words “Dance,” “Hard House,” and “Blimey! Caned! and Cunted!”

Katy 

xx