The Black And White Club….

8 08 2016

DJ Graham King, Haslev, DenmarkOnce teeming with life, music, young faces with flashing eyes, the red brick building, it’s metal doors now dented, stood silent, jaded, its grime coated windows now framed by the artistry of busy spiders.
The passers by that helped me find this corner building again knew nothing of the life that once pulsated within it, or of the first floor room, its one small window the one I used to hang my hung-over head from to see what the weather was doing.
The music used to rush towards you as guests pushed through chrome doors, already dancing before reaching glitter ball centre stage, neon lighting transforming their monochrome rainwear into Technicolor dream coats once within the circumference of its glow. Faces lit up, dance moves evolved – drink, other people, egging all to become less inhibited, more exuberant, rules about personal space shrugged off as the night progressed. And just when most places would be closing for the night a new tide of revellers would squeeze into the room from the live venue hall next door, eager to hear their favourite disco vibes, shouting their requests at the DJ before bouncers took control and shepherded all from the venue.
Now a ghost of its former glory, a delirious spark of memory reignited this house for a sweeping moment, a crack in an upstairs window seeping ‘Hotel California’ into the clearing fog of a forgotten time.

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One response

8 08 2016
alienatednation

I was there.

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