- (no subject)
- February 3rd, 2005
i'm writing a book. it's gonna be a 'secret' diary kinda like bridget jones if she was a gay courtney.
also, i wrote my first club review today. comment me up with yr thoughts.
(The Scala, Pentonville Rd, Kings X)
Popstarz is the retro kitsch alternative to all the dull soulless dance music that the gay scene has spewed out in recent years. Still billed as ‘The ONLY gay alternative’, one is forced to believe this statement to be fact. It is a mixed club night - gay, straight, horny – anyone is welcome, and anything goes. In an homage to Studio 54, bouncers only work the door and once into the belly of the building you can commit almost any scandalous act without being reprimanded. With the majority of the popular clubs in London today still rummaging through the skip that is the Stock Aitken Waterman back catalogue, a tune that isn’t either a rehash of some old Kylie tragedy or something sung by a group of manufactured haircuts is very rare indeed. So why don’t you give these guys a break. Good, clean fun is on the bill tonight and plenty will be delivered. Like so many other clubs that attempt to entertain with 80s and 90s classics, Popstarz gets it right every time, proving there is a thin line between golden oldies and pure cheese. The beautiful people hang-out in the luscious low-lit entrance bar which serves up a smorgasbord of RnB and fashionable chart booty-shakers (DMX, Lauryn Hill). Enough to get the stiffest of upper lips grinding themselves along to the PHat urban beats. It’s intelligent, your needs are pre-empted. Popstarz is a cheap crowd-pleasing old tart. You know what you want, and boy do you sure get it. Head into the Common Room, an enormous warehouse inspired dancefloor, for the rock aspect of the evening. Power pop and dirty grunge meets with crazed electro and euphoric trance to create the most eclectic playlist in London. Combine this with strobe lighting, smoke machines and pantomime effects flashed up on the big screen and soon you’ll be moshing along with the pill-poppers and head-bangers. Arguably the top floor is the best, with super mad fun to be had. Pouting and posing queens have vanished and in their place are overly-emotional men swinging their hips to old-school Madonna and trashy one-hit wonders. Yes, it’s that infamous eighties room! A school disco that your mum would never have let you go to. The old eighties phrase sums it up best – it’s all good clean fun. Well, unless you dare to visit the little boy’s room…