Dancing Strictly
Wave you hands in the air,
‘cos no-one’s gonna stare…
As we all know, the British don’t like to make eye contact with strangers or sit next to them on trains. Unless of course, they’ve consumed a frothing vat of alcohol, in which case they will hug, kiss, lick, dry hump or assault anybody that happens to enter their blurry line of vision. Does this suggest to anybody else that we are a nation starved of affection, that all we really want to do is reach out and touch somebody, but we’re worried we might catch something? Why is it only through numbing our brains and having our faces go a bit wonky that we can gather the courage to express ourselves? To ask for love? And acceptance? And phone numbers?
I’m getting slightly off the point here. What I actually want to talk about is dancing. Dancing like nobody is watching, or if they are, that they are seriously impressed with what they are seeing. We British not only seem to need large quantities of alcohol to ignore our heritage and give in to our hormones, but also to do anything on the dance floor other than avoid it. However, a few BOGOF shots and suddenly everybody is at it. And everybody thinks they are brilliant at it. Marvellous!
But no matter how much cheap booze is consumed, some of us still struggle to perform. You may have guessed, I am one of these chosen few. Unfortunately, most of the clubs I’ve been to play the sort of music that gets the beautiful people onto the floor, wiggling their hotpant-clad rears like baboons on heat. I normally go home and have a Cup-a-Soup at this point in the evening.
If, like me, you find it difficult to have a good time in an establishment where everybody seems to know what they’re doing, rhythmically speaking, and in fact, the whole place reminds you of the set of a music video shoot, and you know that there is no way you’re cool enough to be there, and maybe you should just give it up, go home and have a good cry….WAIT! There is hope. Those who enjoy soullessly pursuing the next big thing, name-dropping and general showing off will probably sneer and keep moving. Balls to them. The clubs listed below are the ones I’ve found that play the kind of music you can dance exactly how you like to. Regardless of how much you might flail your arms, do the twist or just bounce about like a child on a Haribo high.
The Funky Fish, 19-23 Marine Parade, BN2 1TL
They say it themselves – “We’re not bothered about sexy surroundings, flashy lights, toilet attendants, or dress codes, we just want to have a rocking party with the best possible service we can provide to our customers.”
Amen to that. A solid and thoroughly unpretentious mix of soul, funk, jazz and Motown, will strip away your inhibitions and insist you take to the floor. No strobe lights, no shiny surfaces – a space for those who choose substance over style.
Casablanca Jazz Club, 3 Middle Street, BN1 1A
Head downstairs for live bands and fizzing latino, upstairs for jazz, funk, disco and soul. Again, the interior décor really doesn’t matter, as it can never truly compensate for atmosphere. You won’t have to worry about spilling a drink and ruining something plush, I reckon Casablanca last had a re-fit in 1973. A laid-back bunch of people normally congregate on both floors, so feel free to dance like your uncle at a family party. Hey, they might just join you.
Legends Bar & The Basement Club, 31-34 Marine Parade, BN2 1TR
Open till 4 and free entry for all, if that alone doesn’t tempt you, the playlist is stuffed with guilty pop pleasures. Except there is nothing to feel guilty about, you hear me? If you don’t have a handbag to dance around, somebody is sure to lend you theirs. Pull whatever moves you please, the music demands it.
The Engine Room, 5 Preston Street, BN1 2HX
Stumble down the spiral staircase and immerse yourself in a basement world of alternative tunes. Goth, metal, glam rock – if you like the dark and heavy side then this is where you can mosh it all up without a care in the world. Bring eyeliner.
Revenge, 32 Old Steine, BN1 1EL
Revenge is one of those places where it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing or who you’re holding hands with. So is anybody really going to give a flying fish how you dance? Stick to level 1 for a rich choice of pop that will have you weeping with nostalgia, or up to level 2 if hardcore house and trance is more your thang. As long as you don’t flinch at the thought of unisex toilets, it’s almost impossible to feel self-conscious here.
Tags: Beachdownwriter, Brighton
What's on your mind?
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April 28th 2009 | 1
Row says:
I’m going to have to visit and demand a personal tour.
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Juzzzy says:
Thank you. I will now have The Nolan Sisters in my brain fgor the rest of the afternoon.
Juzzzy’s last blog post..PR-Atts
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Monica says:
Alcohol is always necessary before I contemplate getting up and dancing in public… x
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Cat says:
Now that swine flu has reached our shores, it really is time to go out and dance like a giant TWAT, and this can be accomplished at some possibly all of these fine/sweaty establishments…..in the words of Ronan Keating – if tomorrow never comes……ya get me??
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sean says:
what wonderful stuff but how maddening that i’m far too old to ever visit a nightclub again and discover whether you reports are as eerily accute as they seem!
sean’s last blog post..One Man’s Meat…
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Laura says:
Do any of these places play Tina Turner? Over the past few years I’ve discovered I’m only able to dance to Simply The Best. I’m really good at it. The Best, you might say. Seemples!
Another excellent review.
