Watched the first half hour of 'Spy Kids' too, but this proved less edifying than the prospect of Panic, the student indie night apparently specifically named to separate the cognoscenti from the clueless by encouraging the question 'Are you Panicking?'. There was a time when this would serve as an adequate metaphor for the night itself, consisting as it did of DJs playing the least-heard side-projects and b-sides they could find to be obscurer than their mate's set. Now, I'm all for obscure music, but at least 95% of the time, you couldn't dance to the damn tracks, which I feel is unforgivable for a club DJ. Fortunately, these things go in cycles, and the wanky indier-than-thou set seem to have given way to a new bunch, willing to accept an inclusive definition of 'indie/alternative', and put together a decent danceable evening, marred only by the odd obligatory but enervating 'Stone Roses' or 'Smiths' tune. The club was much fuller this week (it having been pissing it down with rain last time), so Tom didn't even have to create a mosh-pit by ricocheting off the rest of us until we got the message, they just spontaneously formed. Later congratulated by a random bloke (why is it always a bloke?) on my dancing technique. He was particularly struck by my Brownian moshing, in which I just pogo up and down concentrating on staying in time and upright, and let those around me determine my direction and velocity. Fun. Caught an elbow to the cheek-bone during '(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)' (perhaps from someone fighting against my right to party), but having an injury you can still feel the next day is a reminder of a good night, I always think (within reason, Jeremy cleanskies's dancefloor crippling a couple of years ago providing a neat counterexample).
Shock news: tall spindly Niall pulled! The shock, I hasten to add, springs mostly from the facts that:
- Latino's isn't a very 'sharky' club at the best of times
- The pissed people whose dropped pint glasses covered the dancefloor with slippery shards had not added to the romantic ambience.
- Panic has a friendly rather than predatory mood.
- As does Niall.
- The song playing was Therapy's 'Screamager', which though arguably the most romantic in their canon ("I've got nothing to do / But hang around and get screwed up on you") is not the traditional slow-dance track.
REM's 'It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)' was next up, and we his friends danced with ironic grins all round.
After last time's nostalgic playing of 'Girl From Mars', this week piled on the reminiscences rather more unexpectedly by playing 'Son of a Preacher Man' by Dusty Springfield, the song to which I had my first snog ever. Ah. I remember the days when everyone had at least one of the 'Reservoir Dogs' or 'Pulp Fiction' soundtracks. which makes me either terrifyingly young or disturbingly old, depending on which of my main peer groups I'm hanging out with. You could say that I was 'Stuck in the Middle.' Sigh.
The final set, always a time for a little variety, had a gangsta flavour this week. Not as fun as last time's cheezy rave theme, though it was fun watching skinny white indie kids dancing in an approximation of MTV's impression of how a black gangsta would dance if they weren't too busy taking drugs, fucking or killing people. We did our best. Tragic but charming, I thought. Bring tha noise, indeed.
One pint of beer, four pints of water. V. good.
Quote of the night from Tom: 'Clubbing is like Battletech: you've got to control your heat levels.'
Current Site: Geeky fun with How To Write Unmaintainable Code.