Clubbin' Antics

I took Kiwi to Glasgow for his birthday last weekend. He bought me an iPod Nano, pretty in pink and engraved with 'Always' for mine, so I did consider splashing out on some gadget for him in return - a Wii, an Xbox or PS3, but the fact is it would end our relationship. I wouldn't be able to peel him away from the TV screen, and he already has an especially time-expending habit with his computer, being a web designer, so I wouldn't like to actively encourage any other technological dependencies. So, I treated us to a weekend away, to a city where neither of us had been before, on the recommendations of my parents who took a trip a few weekends ago - call it the gift of memories rather than material possessions.

It turned out that Glasgow is home to one of the world's top 50 clubs, The Arches, as voted in some DJ magazine that Kiwi has kept in the hope of fulfilling an ambition to visit every club on the list. Unbelievably (to me), Newcastle's Digital is also on the list. I can't make my mind up about the place - student nights used to be good craic, but weekends are a different story. It's not the DJ sets - Kiwi and I saw Arman van Helden there a few weeks ago and the music was immense, but my experience was completely marred by the large number of self obsessed punters surrounding us. The atmosphere is unwelcoming and intimidating, and it takes a certain type of person to feel at home there - one of the "mini Kate Mosses, Pete Dochertys and Amy Winehouses," that I have mentioned before (see Blu Bambu, June 2008). Whilst trying to dance next to Kiwi, I was physically bumpered out of the way and pushed around until I was nearly on the floor by four mini-Kate's, incessantly offered drugs by one mini-Pete, then generally made to feel frustrated and upset by mini-Amy's throwing insults at me when I deigned to wash my hands where they were gathered around the taps in the Ladies.

Digital is too packed to move, the toilets are filthy, the dance floor is covered in broken glass, and it's just generally unimpressive. So I'm stumped as to how it got onto the list as one of the world's best. I didn't hold my hopes high for The Arches, so I was happy to find that I loved my experience of it.

Unsurprisingly, The Arches is set in some arches, so the interior is reminiscent of dark and dingey tunnels on a dark night - damp brick walls sloping overhead and concrete floors, but all adding to a unique atmosphere rather than taking away a sense of comfort. The club is divided through 3 arches - first with a bar and seating area, second with a dancefloor and DJ box, and third with another bar, dancefloor and second DJ box. Without doors dividing the arches, walking between the two 'rooms' is an aural assault, clashing rhythms until you're not sure where one DJ set ends and the other begins. The club is unpretentious, made obvious by the lack of dress code and men walking around topless - something Digital would never allow for fear they would be perceived as a relaxed, friendly, unassuming establishment. Why is it that a club is more sought after if it has an arrogant air about it?

The welcoming feeling of The Arches was supported by its all encompassing filming of both the DJ and the crowd, played back on giant screens at one end of each arch. Rather than being up on a pedestal - set back under a veil of darkness, the DJ's appeared at one with the crowd, their every move and expression up on screen, enhancing the experience of the music as though your personal enjoyment and the atmosphere you were part of was inspiring an original mix, live.

Lastly, The Arches attention to detail - water jugs and plastic cups on the bar for all to access; a cleaner in the Ladies keeping it stocked with toilet paper and soap; a first aid point - restored my faith in the club industry. I wouldn't call myself teetotal, but I don't drink much if at all on a night out, so I'm never too bladdered to care about the state of where I'm dancing. It gets on my tits to have to paddle through piss-soaked floors, hover over a toilet seat and just when you're feeling a bit grubby, have no access to soap. Or to fight my way to the bar to ask for tap water and be told I have to buy bottled and it costs more than a vodka and coke...

I used to think maybe it's just me, I'm not cut out for clubbing, but I'm beginning to think that some clubs just aren't cut out for me. We're off to Ibiza in September, to go to another three clubs on the top 50 list, so I'll just have to wait and see what lies in store, and come to a conclusion then...