The club reporter

Right, so first real night out in a while (I have been out, but those didnt count, they were sort of more of a prelude...)at Saphir (the much-attended-though-it-sucks alternaclub) and here it goes.

I was out there at a friend's (Amanda)invitation for yet another friend's (Roxy) birthday. I arrived early it seems (nearly 11h30) and few had arrived (I'd say about 20 people); I had barely made my way to the booth to great El DJ that an old acquaintance (John)walked up, whom I hadnt seen in over a year. Turns out I hadnt been the only one going in voluntary exile (or getting a haircut for that matter) as he had been completely out of town for over a year. He went a tad radical and moved up north for a year to sort things out and get his life together. By his appearance, I'd say he did. Its quite interesting to note that people who get their lives together tend to wear less shinny stuff as we got along. Also, outrageous haircuts tend to fall on the wayside (well, I guess shaving my head is still outrageous, but were talking about goths here), so I guess I'm still it step with the times. At this time of the evening, the music was still in the gothic/darkwave overtones, so the less shinny people were out and wiggling.

The first of the ladies to arrive was Jamie. She and I hadnt seen each other in well over a year. She was properly shocked at my appearance (which was the point) yet equaly pleased to see me. I've know the girl for nearly 8 years now, back from the days of Sphinx (a now-defunct club; there were a lot of those). She tells me that Roxy has been out last night and that she might make it late. No problem.

Then my host (of sorts) walks in and we salute. Unlike our plan we dont exchange much in the way of pleasantry for the rest of the night. Its quite hard to get a conversation going in a club in the first place, and I really need a sarcastic partner to truly get my patter going. She just isnt up to par. Those kinds of things happen.

Eventually Roxy makes it in. I dont recognise her, as her long brown hair (which she was somewhat famous for as a means of offensively clearing space on the dancefloor) has been replaced by this cute black-haired type of A-cut (long bangs, short back) that totally changes her appearance. She actually looked taller. She also looked more elegant than before, so theres hope there that we all grow up and look cooler as we get older. By now its full-fledged EBM, and the floor is packed. Several wagons of A-trains walk in and out, obviously at the wrong club. One particular schmo looks like a low-budget Ali G without the style factor. Having to explain the joke blunts the impact, so after a couple of ties I give up. These people arent good with the peanut gallery sniping I'm so fond of. I'll just have to wait till september I guess.

My lady friend Sara shows up too, looking ravishingly gothic with a long satin dress and black veil, a nice contrast to many of the crowds. Especially the white jackass with the afro and hippy-raver clothes. Talk about bad aesthetic choices! White guy, light brown afro (with headband), tie-dye shrit and phat blue jeans... the horror! He's the joke of the evening and he just wont leave. I swear, if I do ever open my club, I'm instituting a dress code. Thats something I definately want to avoid. That and the neo-boho chicks who take off their shoes on the dancefloor. Some people deserve to have their toes stomped on!

Besides the bad music (I truly hate EBM) the dancefloor is far too crowded to allow me to dance properly. I do make it there a few times (Skinny Puppy compels you...) but overall, its not areally sweaty evening. I break more of a sweat getting to work in the morning.

Overall, not as bad as could have been, but enjoyable, even if there were periods of tediums and definately not enough women around. Music can always be improved, but thats pretty much a given, considering that much of the night is devoted to EBM. As Oliver (DJ Uriel) was telling me, whats more frightening about this is that the kids now have even less of a sense of gothic culture than ever. They might know one Bauhaus (She's In Parties), one Sisters (Marianne), but thats pretty much it; I'm willing to bet that they got those from compilations, or they may have heard it in a club somewhere. They really just want the bip-bip-wiz-thump of that "dark-disco" (my term) that they wiggle to. Its somewhat depressing.

Hopefully, I'll have more fun at Inferno on friday. I'll tell you more about it on saturday!