We be crush groovin'

A couple of weeks before Jess shows me and ad in the Bangkok Post which says a band of DJs called Eclectic Method are playing at a new club in the city called Club Culture. She excitedly tells me they are DJs who mix videos rather than CDs (which makes them VJs) and have done stuff for U2’s tour, and mixed all Fatboy Slim’s singles together for his Greatest Hits DVD. Therefore they are Very Good.

I do some more research on them and agree that this would be a most entertaining and fucking ace night out. The only problem is it’s on a Friday and Fridays are now like Sundays to me in that I have a full day of work the next day. But sod it. How often are we gonna get to see an act like that play in Bangkok?

On the night in question I get home and get ready, jumping around my room in unabashed excitement – I’ve not been clubbing for TOO long. Jess and I go to Khao San first for food and to try and persuade James to come along - he’s torn between this and the birthday bash of a friend of Jeab’s.

I grab some Tom Yum soup, which takes me ages to eat – firstly cos you have to dig around amongst the chilis and lemongrass for the food (eat them and you’re in trouble), secondly because Jess tells me a story that has me in stitches for a good 15 minutes.

We were talking about pulling and getting chatted up in clubs and her story goes something like this...

So she’s in a club with some mates. It’s one of those evenings where not much is going on but dancing and drinking. Jess is there minding her own business, nursing a Coke as always, when a man comes up behind and whispers in her ear, “You’re the most beautiful woman in here.” She turns around to see if he’s worth bothering with and, lo and behold, he’s wearing a motorbike helmet. He wore it all evening apparently. Nobody saw what he actually looked like.

We meet James and Jeab at a bar called Gazeebo, where a Thai band is playing reggae and Led Zeppelin covers. It’s a nice bar – sleek décor and does shisha, so I promise myself I’ll return to try a bit of that. James decides not to come with us, opting for the Thai birthday girl instead. I understand his reasoning – I might have mentioned this before but here in Thailand it is customary for the birthday boy or girl to pay for everyone else during their celebrations. As if birthdays weren’t something to dread as it was!

I take the piss out of Jeab a bit cos when James goes to the toilet her eyes follow him unwaveringly. She’s obviously crazy about him, no matter how cool she plays it.

Jess and I eventually leave them to it and get a cab to the club. We get a chatty cab driver who’s keen to show off his English, and vent about the unfair state of things for taxi drivers in Bangkok. He weaves a convincing tale about the corruption of police who operate around Khao San Road, and how they charge cab drivers for coming anywhere near the place to pick up tourists (hence the extortionate prices drivers will try to charge tourists). And he moans about the huge charges to rent cabs (8000 baht) in the first place. He’s from the country and spends a certain amount of time in the city each year trying to make some money to take home. But it sounds like he doesn’t make much. I’m not sure if it’s a tale he weaves especially for farang or not but it’s convincing enough for us to give him an extra 50 baht. For ages I’ve just been angered at the taxi drivers attempts to get more money out me, my thinking being it’s just cos I’m a foreigner. But if this driver’s stories are true (and they fit in with a lot of other stuff I’ve heard about how Bangkok is run) then the attempted rip-offs are more understandable. I vow not to get so mad at taxi drivers in future.

We blag our way into the club without passports (Binnie has them to get work permits for us). I don’t think they care really – we’re farang, we’ve got money. Eclectic Method have already started, playing a mash up of Beyonce and some rock tune I don’t recognise. The club is busy but not packed, just right really. We get our free drink (part of the entry fee), I buy some cigs (I’m back smoking tonight for some reason) and head to the dancefloor. I normally hang out on the edge of the dancefloor for ages before throwing myself into it, but tonight I’m immediately entranced by the music Eclectic Method are playing – seemless blends of pounding house beats, chunky hip hop and classic rock tunes from the likes of Stone Roses (mixed in perfectly with Jurassic 5) and Nirvana (whose familiar Smells Like Teen Spirit riff is played teasingly amongst a host of other tunes and immediately raises a roar).

There’s a crazy woman in green waving her arms in the corner (there’s always one)...

...and the Thais and the odd farang are grooving away quite happily on the dancefloor. It doesn’t take me long to join them, the booze and adrenalin firing me up. I think this where I’m happiest – moving around on a dancefloor, every muscle and every bone responding instinctively to the throb of bass and thump of drum. My mind focuses only on the music during these moments. I could be on my own for all I care. I almost forget Jess is there.

She drags me out about two-ish. She’s got to get up, even if I haven’t (my two morning classes have cancelled, fortuitously). But even if I did have to get up, I could have gone on for a few more hours. God I miss clubbing.