The Goth Club

So it seems tha tthe goth club that was not a goth club has made up for it with.

Gulag, the only club in town that truly looks like the sort of goth clubs that movies make you expect to see when you go to one, is once again playing the sort of music you’d also expect to hear. Crowd numbers were up to.

It’s always interesting what happens to a club when it gets popular, especially one that has no cover charge. It’s basically presented with a few options:

1. Move to a new venue with a larger capacity, and lose half of the appeal that it’s got because believe it or not, most people don’t go to the clubs to listen to the music that they already have on their playlists, but really really loud
2. Hope to god that the crowd numbers don’t increase too much, therefore allowing you to keep a really crowded club that people will still attend in the hope of it being the “in thing” now that other people have to line up… and added cool factor because they were going when no one knew about it
3. Start charging at the door to cut down on the number of free loaders, profit slightly, and thus make the club mildly more exclusive.
4. Do something to majorly piss off your club goers, and watch the numbers drop as they don’t want to come back of their own volition.

Considering the nature of the club’s promoter, I don’t think options #1 or #3 are terribly likely and #4 has already been done with the Reggae, to little affect… Leaving option #3.

At any other style of club, this wouldn’t bother me too much. But when you have a lot of goths in one room, you’ve also got a lot of hairspray in that space. And a lot of PVC and rubber, grinding against polished stone floors.

Friction of rubber against polished stone is likely to create an electro-static charge within the body that creates the friction. Numerous bodies in consistent contact will dissipiate generated charge between them. But goths often attempt to avoid touching each other whilst dancing. It would distract them from the moves that they’re attempting to pull, and put them off balance. Touching is for the toilet cubicles. This leaves a dangerous amount of potential electro-static energy building up in a confined area that has a lot of flammables and potential sources of ignition.

All I’m saying is that if you see news story about a “bondage” club in East Richmond that got to extreme, accompanied by shots of dozens of people with their heads on fire, don’t be surprised.

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So if you haven’t figured it out by now, I have a penchant for bizarre liqueur that happens to be ludicrously difficult for the average person to find. If you happen to be one of these average people, that’s too bad. You could always, y’know, ask me where I get mine or something. Anyway, I got the idea for this one while I was at Gulag the other night.

The oddly shaped bottle is rose liqueur. Found it at a Turkish deli.

This weeks drink is no less bizarre, being based on an Elder Flower liqueur: St Germains. (more…)

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When it’s playing fucking Reggae!

I don’t really ask for much out of clubs. I’m not too picky on the decor. If the drinks suck, I can deal with it. If the DJ’s playing at ear shattering levels, I’ll just get some ear buds, or step outside where the perfect sound balance is reached… You know, so long as my friends are there and the music’s good.

Ahhh, the music. I’m not too picky about that either. I like the vast majority of stuff on the gawth playlists. Manson, Cure, Fortification 55, VNV Nation, Switchblade Symphony, Phillip Glass, Bob Marley, Kevorkian Death Cycle, KMF… Wait a second…

Bob Marley? 

Bob Fucking Buffalo Soldier Marley?

Don’t get me wrong. Marley’s a musical genius and something of a hero. His music has a time and place… Neither of which happens to be in a room full of people that go in for harsh electronic sounds to sway to like bits of angsty seaweed, whilst clad in leather or vinyl, and figuring out precisely how many sexually gratuitous acts they can fit in before they have to go to their parents for lunch on Sunday.

Now, supposedly, this was all because it was “Revolutionaries” night. A great idea for a theme really. Cheap absinthe (the choice drink of the intellectual elite and beatniks), posters with clever slogans, lots of Fascist Chicks in Communist Chic. That kind of thing. Very hot, really. Skin tight Red Star outfits, and big fluffy Russian hats oFUCKING REGGAE! AT A GOTH CLUB!?!?!

It’s like stepping in bizarro land!

It wasn’t even like it was background level where you could pleasantly ignore it. Because no one was dancing (because it was fucking reggae) the DJ did what all goth DJs do when no one’s on the dance floor. They turn it up, thinking that will attract people to dance. 

Noooo, no one’s dancing because your music selection is shitty. And when you turn up the volume, it’s shitty and literally painful to listen to.

I be thinkin I actually goin ta look at who be meant ta be DJing before I & I is makin da dessizun to be goin nex week, I-oh mon. Jah be witchoo.

P.S. Sorry about a lack of postage yesterday, but I was busy attempting to hall 5 desks up a flight of very narrow stairs. It took most of the evening. I’ll insert some pictures and links later when I’m less ranty and my boss isn’t about.

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Generally, when you hear that at a club, it means you’ve done your makeup really well.

I don’t wear make up…

I was at Gulag last night. I like the joint, but rarely manage to get there, as it’s generally on when I’ve got other things. So it was with joy and inner fulfillment that I finally managed to go, because it’s one of those clubs that actually looks just like a goth club from movies! It’s got a (fake) bone-pit in a fireplace, walls that look like they’re going to crumble, shattered mirrors all over the place. Très fancy… Except that I’ve been rather sick with gastro lately, and could not enjoy it as much as I’d hoped.

So sick in fact that I didn’t even remember to take anything other than a bunch of charcoal tablets. No camera, no fancy doodads. Just activated charcoal and me.

One of the wonders of activated charcoal is that it basically makes everything in your gut a bit more cohesive. And black. Very black. Those goths that are so goth that they shit black, yeah, they’re taking activated charcoal. It has other fantastic properties, like insanely large and absorbent surface areas that basically soak toxins and excess acids up inside your stomach. Drink like a fish and still be under .05 BAC. Fantastic way to cheat at drinking competitions with a little forethought. Back to the story.

Due to being sick all week, I forced myself to go out, as I was beginning to go stir crazy. This proved to be a bad idea. I couldn’t shift my legs or posture without acute discomfort. And this was all happening during a friends birthday party.

Now, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, we all know and love the general promiscuity that happens to be shoved in (on) our faces in the scene. Hooray! Tonight was no exception to this rule. But instead of rising to the challenge, I was attempting not to explode excreta all over the wall behind me in a display that would have made Jabba the Hutt proud of the indulgent excesses. It makes me think of that Men Without Hats song. The one that goes “You can dance! You Dance! You’re going to shit all over your pants.”

Although, there were fewer midgets with wind instruments.

Eventually, I stepped outside for air. It was at this point, a wonderful and concerned security guard asked if I was ok, and said to me “You’re looking a little pale”.

We’re at a goth club. I don’t wear make up. I’m looking a little pale.

Ladies and gentlemen, that’s a quantitative “If symptoms persist, consult your mortician” moment.

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