Le Freak
Based on a flier I picked up at Rawhide, I thought I’d go check out Le Freak at Space 550. The flier’s notification that the venue was under the spotlights should have been an indication. I found a parking space around 9:30. I stood in line, got searched, and entered the club without paying (as per the advertising on the flier). I went into the main room and hung out until some people started to show up, opting to break onto the dancefloor with only about five or six others on the floor.
First of all, the whole attitude of the place was basically that of a top 40 establishment—the processed cheese whiz of a club that views its patrons as members of one of two groups (punks and hoochies). Another 1015 wannabe commercialized schlockfest.
Lest I leave the impression that I came in and left after fifteen minutes, I want to convey that the club, while filled to the brim with plastic people, was actually not a total loss. The DJs in the main room (the house room) were really good. Gavin Hardkiss and DJ Disciple were billed on the flier. I have no idea which ones they were.
I danced until 3:45. The music was good, but the club was a little on the small side and the dancing surface was either sticky or slick. When I got to my car, I found some shocking fliers on my car. One of them read: “A San Francisco taste of Ibiza flavor. Room one: the choicest cuts of R&B, Top 40, Hip-Hop, and House. Room two: Salsa, Merengue, and Latin House.” Yay. Let’s disguise bullshit commercial radio music under the trenchcoat of the whole electronica bandwagon. Another advertised CoolWorld’s next sell-out velveeta festival to follow up the highly annoying Planet New Year 2000.
Somehow, I doubt that I’ll attend Le Freak again. It just strikes me as The Edge with an age limit. No thanks.