The age of the dancers matter

He’s* not so bad, really. Paul Van Dyk played a good set for the short time we were present in Zouk to hear him. And by the time we left, which was after 1am, there was STILL a queue waiting patiently outside — no one looked like they were about to charge the impenetrable barrier of velvet rope, this being Singapore and everything.

I must be getting old. A mere 11 years ago, I would have thought nothing of squeezing with an over-capacity crowd, bopping along to whatever was playing at Zouk. But of course, it wouldn’t have been dance music, as I am sticking firm to my conviction of disliking dance music, although I own almost all of the Prodigy albums, a number of Chemical Brothers CDs, bought The Stanton Sessions based on a magazine review and like it, and count a mix of electronica-type CDs among my collection.

Anyways. Gone are the days when surviving Mambo night at Zouk were a matter of course; when I go dancing, I want SPACE, room to bounce around, room for air conditioning to cool my sweaty bod, and not to be mindful of someone else’s rhythms. Neil, Mr Dance Music Aficionado, doesn’t dance (go figure out the irony of that on your own), and most of the blokes in Xiamen don’t dance with me because there isn’t any chance I’d sleep with them (plus I bounce around with arms flailing — on occasion — and it probably looks kinda crazy).

So there was this big queue outside Zouk when we arrived, which prompted me to ask Neil, “Exactly how much do you like this DJ?”. We took the ageing hipster route and paid an extra $5 each to gain entry into Velvet Underground (shorter queue), had a drink and ambled over to Zouk. When it got REALLY crowded and hot and smoky and sweaty, I asked Neil, “Exactly how much do you like this DJ?”, he decided that he didn’t like him enough to endure everyone’s sweat (and probably B.O.) rubbing off on us as folks of all shapes and sizes (I’m still not understanding why anyone in Singapore would want to wear a knit beanie) squeezed past (I forgot to mention that no matter where I stand, there must be a ghostly ‘Exit’ sign floating less than eerily above my head).

Here’s what happened. Paul Van Dyk started his set at about 12.45am. We probably left at about 1.30. Us old weenies gave two more people — the young folk — the opportunity to get into Zouk. And Neil can say he’s still with it because he saw Paul Van Dyk. AND he’s old enough to have bought the first release of Paul Van Dyk’s first 12″ single (he’s sitting here and being pedantic, I can’t say ‘record’ for some reason):

“‘Perfect Day’ and ‘Perfect Night’ are on side A, ‘Perfect Morning’ is on side B. Produced sometime in the 80s, possibly around… (drinks tea) you’ll have to look it up, ya wee shite.”

* I don’t think there’s anything wrong with watching an East German bloke play music on his Powerbook, I was just grouchy because it was so ridiculously crowded.

• 3 Feb 2006

• Thinking