Saturday, 18 August 2007

the epitome of style. is that for you to decide?

Not entirely sure what I think of blogging. I mean there’s a lot out there (respect to fuckingdance and good weather for airstrikes in particular for inspiring me). Some things already will have been said. I’m obsessed with music. So that’s what this is going to be about. It could be profiles of artists, new bands, old bands, reviews of gigs I’ve been to, general issues relating to music and what the future holds or just how a song just relates to a night out or a night in or a day in the park and features and all sorts really. And mixtapes. I've no intention of talking about myself, unless it somehow has a music related point. I just want to try and shed new light on things. I won’t be the only contributor, but will be for now.

I haven't quite figured out how I want it all to look yet either, but I can't be bothered to wait until I've figured it out. I have lots of big ideas though so expect to see this gradually develop in the coming weeks and months.

I’m currently living in Nottingham, my hometown. I have been at university the last two years in London, and I’m moving to Paris in a fortnight or so for a year. Anyway, so Nottingham. I don’t know what to make of it really. I love my hometown, but in that way that you love members of your family. There isn’t really a choice in the matter, even though it is good.

Going out round here is strange. I blame adolescent shyness and the fact none of my school friends liked the same music as me and I never had the balls to go out on my own at 16, and get involved in the burgeoning scene that arose out of Ricky Haley’s Liars Club, cited as an inspiration for the brilliant Late of the Pier.

Anyway, so last night. Meet up with old friends. Had a few beers and the general consensus is to head to Oceana. I figure, why not, would be good to see some old friends. We get there and the queue is already snaking around the corner. An hour or so later, I’m handing over 6 pounds for the pleasure of entering this fine establishment. The place is absolutely packed to the rafters with kids celebrating their A-level results by losing their mind to thudding mid-90s dance tracks and such like - take a online 360° tour of the place here.

I grabbed a couple of beers and instantly get lost, as is usually the way with big clubs (Koko anybody?). I notice there is an ‘indie rock n roll room’, which I venture towards tentatively whilst passing the Ski Lodge room (Ski Lodge!). I feel a bit let down, there are about 12 people dancing to Babyshambles and I’m not allowed on the ‘dancefloor’ (which seems to resemble the pavement in the video to Billie Jean without the lights) with a bottle in my hand. I’m also told by a nice security man that it is against club policy for me to wear a jacket. I’m wearing a leather jacket (recently acquired from a vintage shop after a lifelong quest for that perfect leather jacket) and a CSS t-shirt. Apparently this isn’t allowed. I ignore this cretin of a bouncer and venture back upstairs.

More aimless wandering, chit chat and such like before another bouncer comes up to me and informs me that I have to put my leather jacket in the cloakroom, as it’s not allowed. I attempt to reason with him. He says that I have to put it in the cloakroom immediately. Rules are rules but apparently suit jackets are fine, because they are seen as smart. It was at this point, being in a mood for an argument, that I demand to see the manager. Big mistake.

The manager, a beefy guy, wearing a waistcoat, suit and some trendy-looking glasses was not in the mood for reasoned debate. I failed to understand how a suit jacket could really be considered much smarter than my leather jacket, especially when the majority of people in there wearing suit jackets in there probably purchased them from ASDA. I should have said the jacket was part of a leather suit, but I always find that I think of these amazing responses well and truly after the moment has passed. I was just trying to make the guy see a bit of sense. I probably pushed it too far in questioning why I should have to pay to place my jacket in the cloakroom when I didn’t want to take it off, wasn’t causing any offence through wearing it and I wasn’t even drunk! Apparently, people aren’t allowed to wear coats, in case they decide to then take them off and then people spill drinks on them.

What a load of bull. It's not like I was wearing a hoodie.The kind of person that works there get quite giddy on power I feel. It’s why they wear yellow armbands on their arms that reminded me of pictures of the SS.

I would write a letter complaining...but it just isn't really worth it.

It’s why you should never go to Oceana because it just isn’t very good.

I’m glad they threw me out. Bouncers will always be dickheads with zero common sense.

The following two artists demonstrate views on these subjects.

Some Body – Oceana demo (myspace)

Arctic Monkeys – From The Ritz to the Rubble (single version)


jamila FUCKING DANCE said...

i 100% agree about bouncers being twats. i cannot stand their 'mightier than thou' attitudes. once i was refused entry to a club, not because i was underage, but because the bouncers told me it wasn't my type of clubnight. how ridiculous. anyway, wooo at getting your blog up.

DanOakes said...

That will explain my own experience with the bouncers to you....