Thinking back to those secondary school days in Dublin, starting going to gigs, seeing Irish bands like A-House, Something Happens, An Emotional Fish, the Stunning, and the Golden Horde, one venue stands out—McGonagles.
It's long gone now, but its memories remain—stage diving at Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine (we were young), a magic night of Into Paradise and Whipping Boy, the beauty that lasted coming from Into Paradise (where are they now? I was in love with the girl for years, but I can't remember now if she played guitar or bass), and of course Dave Couse from A-House, his garish shirts and mop of red hair, engaging the crowd with his unique blend of between-song banter as we willed them to play Kick Me Again Jesus or some other local classic still remembered by a group of people of a certain age in Dublin.
My second youth, in Tokyo, was played out to a more electric beat, and at its core was a club called Liquid Room in the shiny, flashy, gangster heartland of Tokyo, Shinjuku's Kabukicho. I was there last night as it happens; Kabukicho, that is, not Liquid Room. Me and Kabukicho go back a long way, and Liquid Room, a pool hall, and a little Tonkatsu restaurant had a lot to do with forming our relationship.
The Tonkatsu restaurant is still there. We went there last night. Same quality pork, big portions, lovely Miso soup, and the same reasonable price. All you can eat rice and cabbage. What more could a person want? The pool hall is still there too. We all know that.
But this morning on arriving at work I got some sad news in my e-mail from Pat. Liquid Room, that squalid bastion of my second youth, is no more. It closed the same day as Farm Grill, the famous Californian buffet restaurant in Ginza, another of Tokyo's stalwarts of celebration—December 31, 2003.
Goodbye Liquid Room. I hated your bouncers, their brash, cocky, we're hip in the dance world aura. I didn't like your prices very much either. But you were essential on many fine nights, and a key part of my Kabukicho.
Oh, damn. I didn't know that you didn't know, else I would have told you. They had a farewell bash on New Year's Eve to which I failed to go. I can't really say that it was a part of my youth since I wasn't all that young when I first moved to Tokyo. But I'll miss it nonetheless. Good gigs and a dance floor that made me nervous with the way that it seemed to bounce and tremble. Scary elevator too.
Posted by: Jennifer at January 23, 2004 3:22 PM | Permalink to CommentI'd first heard of the Liquid Room back in 1996 or 97 as a friend had a live mix cd from when Jeff Mills - he of messy, purist techno fame - had visited Tokyo. Hard, weird beats with brief snatches of the crowd buzzed up / loved up and clearly having one of the best nights of their life. Again. I didn't move to Tokyo until January 1998 and actually went to Code first. The Happy Hardcore monster DJ Dougal was on and lots of kids and us bounced around on a carpet for a few hours. Happy and simple but no comparison at all to the Liquid Room. I probably only went about 4 times there and each for a Drum and Bass Session. Mickey Finn and Aphrodite was the first. I remember leaving that one and exiting via the staircase, sweating like a pig and trying to read all the graffitti as I went down. Bukem and Conrad was the finest night and I can proudly say that I, and the people I was with, were the last to go from the rave one weekend late November 1998. There was an edge to the place, not a dangerous one, but a feeling that they knew exactly how to create the right lighting and sound just as if some Professor of Rave had just graduated from a Masters course specialising in making people's nights even messier. People were only there for the music. There was none of this arrogant posturing associated with house nights. But what a location, venue, lift, stairwell, sound system, line up and crowd. Will be sorely missed.
Posted by: Pat at January 23, 2004 5:39 PM | Permalink to CommentYou have both reminded me of another thing I hated about Liquid Room: the stairs, and queuing up them for years just to get in. I am no longer sure whether I'm sad to see it close down.
On another Liquid Room note, I have it from a reliable source that it might reopen in Aoyama.
Posted by: Setsunai at January 26, 2004 6:34 PM | Permalink to CommentYou Dublin knackers are not cool enough for Aoyama that's why. Entry requirement - cuff links.
Posted by: Pat at January 26, 2004 8:43 PM | Permalink to CommentHave you found out the Belgian for cufflinks yet? How about twat?
Posted by: Setsunai at January 26, 2004 10:00 PM | Permalink to CommentLe twat actually. Or boutons de manchettes.
Posted by: Pat at January 27, 2004 12:17 AM | Permalink to CommentNot the French Belgian...the real Belgian.
Posted by: Setsunai at January 27, 2004 8:23 AM | Permalink to CommentIsn't it called Wallon too? Or is that the name of people from Northern Belgium? Do they all revere Jacques Brel? And if not, why not?
Posted by: Setsunai at January 27, 2004 5:57 PM | Permalink to CommentThe Wallons are the French speakers with the Flamands being the Dutch or Flemish speakers. Apparently French had always been the dominant language in schools / universities etc until the 1960s when there was a fairly violent reaction to such affairs. Some towns are known as Flemish and others as Wallon. Brussels is in a bizarre position of not only being officially bi-lingual but essentially tri-lingual. Pockets of this city seem to speak Euro-English quite happily with little regard for either of the two languages that are actually spoken here. It certainly has yet to strike me as a real "adventure" compared to other European cities. I say force people to speak French in Irish pubs and their ilk and that would create more of a feeling of being abroad. Or maybe I could just go to different places to drink. The solitary Finnish bar has become my local (run by two Egyptians) so that makes for a very interesting linguistic challenge indeed. As for Jacques Brel - TinTin is the folk hero of the day. 75 years old this year and going strong, red quiff and all.
Posted by: Pat at January 27, 2004 7:57 PM | Permalink to CommentCheers for that Pat. Ask them about Jacques Brel, particularly their favorite Jacques Brel song and why if you ever have the inclination. I would love to know if any of them chose a song called "Le plat pays," which is a tribute to Belgium.
Posted by: Setsunai at January 27, 2004 9:54 PM | Permalink to CommentI have started asking about Jacques Brel and he is indeed popular and "Le Pays Plat" makes them shiver with happiness.
Posted by: Pat at January 28, 2004 6:33 PM | Permalink to CommentI always suspected Jaques Brel would be the way to a Belgian's heart. He's an incredible lyric writer I reckon. Up there with people like McGowan, Billy Bragg, Costello etc.
Posted by: Setsunai at January 28, 2004 10:53 PM | Permalink to CommentI loved your pictures! Reminded me of my time in Tokyo. I wonder if you would mind if I used your crow photo in a book I am writing about Murakami Haruki and Tokyo for a Polish publisher. I can't pay you for it, since the budget is practically non-existent at this point, but I would be happy to give you credit, if you agree.
Anna Elliott