nessi vacantly clutches kronenbourg whilst it all goes on behind her. |
About a year ago, Andy, Nick and I took a holiday in which - amongst other things- we went to see the eclipse in
Devon. We spent our week in places like Paignton and Exeter St David's with
large smiles on our faces. And thus, we were introduced to the delights of
regional provincial clubbing: happy, smiling clubs in the middle of nowhere, banging it out to punters from miles around.
The Rock in Bristol on the 20th January brought back many memories of those days and was an amazingly enjoyable clubbing experience. |
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Venessa, Peter (my brother) and Adele (Peter's girlfriend) had been intending to go to Slinky - also on that night, opening in Bristol- but the night was being promoted by Adele's ex-boyfriend, which was enough of a reason not to go. This turned out to have been a great decision since by all accounts Slinky was apparently extremely heaving and playing roughly the same music.
However on arriving at the Rock my fears were aroused in a big way: The lobby area shared its decorative style with
clubs like Ritzy (for those not old enough to remember: flock wallpaper and
Christmas lights). |
rob didn't give us a caption
for this one! |
peter, adele and rob wonder what they've got themselves into
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Additionally, the
people looked a little on the towney side, and I'm generally nervous about deep-pile carpets in nightclubs. I imagined all of the "you spilt my pint" or "you staring at my girl?" type arguments I would be enjoying later, and my spirits began to sink.
Having braved the cloakroom queue, I adjourned to the main hall to be pleasantly surprised. In both style and atmosphere this was a huge improvement. The decor was good, the lighting was great, and there were glowsticks and gurners going off all over the shop. A fine indication of what was to follow, and it was not yet midnight.
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The music was deep house - heavily bassey and thankfully wailing-diva free. This was a great way to start - and the
DJ (dan pierce) was chucking out some great grooves and clearly loving the action as much as the crowd were.
In fact, the guy was a one man stageshow. Arms flailing around like a muckspreader in action, waving the records in the air and shouting his head off. Great energy and everyone was loving him. In fact, a lot of people began to get a bit over excited and decided to join him on the stage, which proved to be excellently amusing--one girl with a very short skirt on (pictured) started getting it on with some lucky pilled-up punter in front of everyone (a la manumission), whilst a dangerous-looking polka-dot wearing woman started frantically charging from left to right around the stage
trying to evade capture by the bouncers, who were clearly loving it as much as we were. |
rob and an evil random in a beer spilling accident
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cnuted
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DJ Dan took fully advantage of his status too - poncing fags and lights off the audience in between mixes, and then pulling out some young beauty from the throng and proceeding to get off with her behind the decks. Good work
fella!
Meanwhile, everyone is pissing themselves laughing at all the general lunacy, but at the same time really getting down to some excellent tunes and some smashing mixing. Dan Pierce - we salute you.
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By 1am the gear shifts upwards, and deep house begins to give way to hard house. I have a bit of a moment listening to
Picottos' Pulsar - and the entire crowd are beaming away at each other and mouthing the
letters: "M-A-U-R-O" etc. However, disaster then strikes: some fool sets off the fire alarm and suddenly the room goes quiet. As your ears get slowly used to the lack of bass, you can faintly hear the alarm ringing in the background. Everyone gives a big cheer and then starts stomping their feet.
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well, at least they're happy
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everyone saw this girl's pants
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DJ and the on stage posse (the bouncers having given up trying to get rid of them by now) all start beating time on whatever surface they can find and there's this amazing Dunkirk spirit before services are resumed to another almighty cheer.
Fantastic stuff so far, and from there on in it only gets harder. At about two in the morning, Nessi and I decide to take some
pictures for the site, and everyone is only too happy to oblige us: their gurning recorded digitally for posterity.
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Following this, I decide to shake the hands of nearly everyone in the club, and by about three o clock, Nessi and I have made
acquaintances with a huge group of people and have found some new friends to dance with. By now the music is now utterly banging hard house: Andy Farley's "Concentrate" rubbing shoulders with "Do It Now", and earlier I'm pretty sure another Josh Wink "Higher State..." remix that I'd not heard before. We are having it, right up at the front with a large
group of new friends, one of which bears an uncanny resemblance to Bruce
Grobbelar. Smiling, happy faces all round and some wicked tunes to boot.
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dj dan pierce giving boc the thumbs-up
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it's so
good, peter's head catches fire
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At some point, a guy who'd taken six pills is squeezing the life out of me in a huge bear hug, and I briefly toy with the idea of getting some boys in, but there's blatantly no point since I'm having a fucking wicked time anyway.
The club closes at four, we pack it all in and take a ride back with Ayrton Senna's cab co. to Adele's house. Peeling ourselves off the windows, we march in try to calm down for a while. We've all loved it - even Peter, who normally wouldn't be seen dead outside a hip hip club: "House music is so friendly," he says. "With hip-hop, if you so much as look at anyone else you'll wind up with a cap in yo ass" |
So, all in all fantastic Bristol action - well worth the trip, and maintaining -what is for me at least- an impressive track record of absolutely mental weekends.
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