Last Days of Disco

Posted on November 4, 2012


I think I’ve seen my last days of disco.

Certainly of the big rave in a huge space, large capacity, type disco.

I was excited on Friday. Genuinely so, with giddy butterflies fluttering for what the night may hold. I had longed for that night, thought about it for months, felt the bubble of freedom that was to come from exercising away the demons on a legendary dance floor.

Yet the tunes came out the speakers, and the bass reverbed through my body, and the crowd stuck their hands in the air, and only on the odd occasion did I feel compelled to.

A cliche’d looking skin headed bomber jacket wearing dealer muttered PIlls, MDMA  enough times as he looped through the crowd and all I could think to myself was that I missed my sofa.

It was like discoing into a parallel universe where the rave scene included Jazz and IDM (intelligent dance music) in the same set. I don’t think I heard one single tune I knew.

I found myself saying, ‘If my mum heard this, she’d say this isn’t music, its just sounds!’

The people who were enjoying themselves the most were the ones off their face on some sort of high, and my jaded realism made me ache for my bed.

I made a friend on the dancefloor – a bloke from Brighton called Luke who when I asked him what he thought of it he consolingly said ‘It’s shit’.

I clock watched till a respectable hour, then made my exit, kissing goodbye to disco for one last time.

Posted in: Journal, Random