Vinyl
On recommendation from Lisa (the one from last Friday), Emmett and I decided to head up to Vinyl, which happens on thursdays at the Rawhide. It seems like most of the events I go to these days happen at the Rawhide. Despite the taxidermy on the walls, I kinda like the space, and most of the acts. This was the first time I’d gone out to the city on a Thursday night.
The info line said that the party had translocated to Club Six (in the crackwhore ghetto off Mission Street in SF). We arrived at 9:30 and the DJ had just arrived. The front door was still chained up. They let us in at ten o’clock. At this point, I’m already somewhat pissed off.
Despite the fact that headliner, Mark Farina, was set to spin, half the upstairs area was still filled with couches. “We only need room for twelve people to dance,” must have been the philosophy. The dance space was way too small.
Downstairs was a dungeon-like environment—a poorly-lit basement with low ceilings, annoying projections and weird floors. There were a maximum of ten people downstairs any time I wandered down to see what was up. The event had its moments and a fair share of very spirited dancers, but it was too crowded, and too small. Perhaps I’m claustrophobic.