last dance

Two thousand, zero, zero, party over, oops, out of time. Tonight we gonna party like it's 1999.

That's the song on repeat in my head every time I get to go out.  Which isn't often. I mean the real go out, not the going out to the shops to fill up my cupboards out, I mean out out. Handbag, phone, keys, purse, nail varnish, lippy (and inhaler) out.

These nights are few and far between. And I'm beginning to understand why.

My knowledge of where to have a good night has disappeared.

Now I'm not looking for the nights of the past where I'd be stepping out when everyone else is heading home; freezing my ass off because queuing up for the cloakroom wastes valuable dancing time; leaving someone mid-conversation because the DJ is playing a 'Tune' - cue one hand up in the air.

No that's not me anymore. But not through want of trying. It's because I simply don't know where to find a decent venue to groove, rave or mash it up on the dancefloor, anymore.  There are bars and clubs aplenty in this city but none offering a night with the music that'll make me get off my coveted bar stool.  When I've tried a 70s/80s / soul night before, the best tracks are played pre 7.30 to a few bar huggers and then ditched for chart noise when the young 'uns arrive. Time to queue up to collect my coat.

I refuse to believe that there isn't a disco night out there that conjures up the spirit of Studio 54 or a funk night to raise the ghosts of soul groovers or... I know, I know a ska night - where you skank 'til you can't skank no more.

Don't get me wrong, I'm partial to a bit of the stuff my girls listen to but if I get the chance to be out dancing, I need to be among my crowd; my tribe; my people who wanna get on the good foot.

I long for a club where you enter like the Soul Train dance line. Or failing that, I am invited a Blues house party, that my parents used to talk about, where you'd feel the bass of the music in the walls and in your chest. I've considered holding one myself but doubt my neighbours here at Twickers Towers would approve.

I'm determined so I'll keep looking and be content with that one 'tune' on a night out that I know all the words and dance moves to.  Or just save my shapes for the kitchen where I hear the resident DJ spins tunes to make you cut a rug.*  

*I was referring to me...with my own playlists..in my kitchen...alone.