Conor O’Donovan
Staff Writer
The question of whether clubbing is fast becoming a fully-fledged pastime for teenagers and adolescents is a valid one. The incongruous nature of seeing polite articulate young things giving it socks every evening in the clubs has baffled many other slightly more uptight young things for quite some time. While not quite socially divisive, this topic does warrant some consideration. Clubs are, it seems, a key part of youth culture, even here in Trinity and other such learned institutions. One would like to think there are other reasons that so many flock to the clubs other than it’s the thing to do.
One of the main sticks people use to verbally beat clubs with is the lack of conversation. The combination of the music and flailing limbs does often compromise the quality of discussion on the dance floor. It could be said that there is a time and a place for everything, the club being a place to give life to existentialist expression to which words would not do justice. The more romantically inclined may see it as a space in which two people can become so in sync they simply do not need to shout in each other’s ears.
Admittedly both of these arguments are somewhat idealised. However, when one goes to the cinema (perhaps a slightly more fulfilling activity) one does not talk during the film. The etiquette involved is, usually, to wait until the credits roll to discuss the film’s nuances. This is, to a certain extent, also true of clubs. There is plenty of time during prinks to share your aspirations for the evening with your fellow banter monsters. There is also the taxi ride home to discuss the ethics of the shift and drift or even how one sometimes gets a good feeling, yeah.
Another gripe that many seem to have with clubs is that they are, to a certain extent, interchangeable. This does seem to have a degree of truth in it. On the recent RAG Week mystery tour, this reporter could have sworn he was keeping it local in Tramco. Imagine his surprise when he emerged to rediscover the scenic seaside locale of Bray. However, while it is true that if a club has a decent DJ and lights just the right shade of dismal, it doesn’t really matter where one finds oneself. A friend once said to me in response to my assertion that if one has prinked appropriate clubs can be quite fun that you could “have the time of your life in a playschool if you were drunk”. Despite the sinister connotations of such a statement he does have a point.
This being said the club is an institution dedicated to such revelry without getting arrested. It is a place in which one can, within reason, let rip and just have a bit of laugh. I feel this was illustrated beautifully on a trip to Berlin earlier this month. On the first evening we were taken to Tresor, one of the city’s landmark clubs. What we were greeted with ignited the inebriated imaginations of some of my fellow tourists. The general consensus was that the iron bars, bizarre empty shelves and barrels were a bit creepy.
After a time, however, everyone succumbed to the atmosphere and danced. We just didn’t give a fuck, to speak colloquially. That certain people were unsure as to whether they would ever leave showed just how few fucks were given. Disregarding the fact that Berlin’s clubs seem to be a cut above Dublin’s, this seems to reinforce the apparent irrelevance of location to the desired experience. In short if you’re going to go on the tear, why not go to a club. They are a space in which to enjoy a transient moment of release or engagement, depending on how you view it. Another friend once rather cynically mused on how one can put rules or regulation on such hedonism. We were on the way home having been refused entry.
There are those, of course, who simply do not enjoy clubs and refuse to attend on this basis. While this is understandable and shows an admirable degree of individuality, there is the question of approach. The club can be outrageous fun or the loneliest place on the planet. It often comes down to mindset, mood or even preparation. It does not, however, agree with everyone. Some cannot, prinks aside, see the club in the same way as others.
There have been times when I have become disillusioned with the whole experience but then again I have seen bad films. As transient as most elements of clubbing are, memories that define our youth can be forged in the least likely settings. The novelist F Scott Fitzgerald’s characters experiences are, from the outside, apparently superficial. They are often, however, ‘the living material from which books are made’ as Anthony Patch from ‘The Beautiful and Damned’ puts it. Although the worth of these experiences is questioned in that novel as we see Anthony’s wife, Gloria, is dismayed as she can only remember the weather and atmosphere surrounding her first kiss, it seems they are worth experiencing in the interest of leading some sort of meaningful life.
On the whole I would say that clubs are to be recommended, at least for the sake of experimentation. They are also to be attended in moderation as part of a balanced social calendar. Placed towards the upper tiers of the social pyramid, if you will (no offense taken if you won’t, frankly I’m not sure if I would). As with any other habit, over indulgence renders it slightly meaningless or sterile. Also it’s nice to spend time with our friends who do not club every now and again.
