Acid House Night at Cuckoo
University of South Australia
<http://dx.doi.org/10.12801/1947-5403.2012.04.02.10>
Fig 1. The researcher cuts loose to Joey Negro New Year's Eve (2012). Photo: Lol_2012.
Went out for Cam's (DJ HMC) set at 12:00 AM. Knew I could wear more dance friendly gear to Cuckoo (underground club in red-light Hindley St), unlike Sugar (a Rundle St club, in the upmarket east end) where I always have to negotiate men on the pull. Very similar to clothes I would wear to dance class. Pulled on my friend Lesley's Abyss Weirdo jacket that she bought for an exorbitant price from Sym Choon (iconic alternative clothing shop on Rundle St) in 1990. This is now a collectable item according to Razak (Sym Choon's designer). One of the deja-vu experiences of this study is that Gen Y fashion is having an early nineties moment, so out come the hotpants and shorts over tights while I worry slightly that I may look like a sad nineties reject who has worn nothing else for 20 years. I stomp past lots of young and very drunk people outside Red Square and what used to be The Royal Admiral. Seems to me nothing has changed much—just more people queuing.
At Cuckoo, suss out dance floor—best position and sound in the middle, and Sugar at the front near the DJ box. Feel a bit cautious at first—only know Cam here, oh and Eugene earning his club stripes working behind the bar and as a glassy. Lots of young people too. First time here on my own, not quite at home like Sugar. However, I already feel safe—the vibe is a respectful "we are here for the music" atmosphere. Cam ramps the next few hours through the early days of acid house including his re-edits—a wonderful hallucinatory build. It's trance like but also highly energised. I really feel the roots of the sound in funk unlike a lot of new music that seems to lack soul. Part of Cam's Detroit legacy maybe? Slowly older dancers join the floor—more men than women. I start slow. I've learnt not to hit too hard, but build with the music when I'm entering a new dynamic on the floor. Keep Abyss Weirdo on for as long as possible until I get too hot. Find floor a bit sticky (where spilled drinks have dried) but it seems to improve as we go. Nice light effects towards end of the set that are lovely to respond to with hands.
I have a couple of rests over the 3 hours. Loved bouncing off the walls and the trance effect of the music built wildly by Cam into full old skool house breaks by which stage there is no holding back—although trying to mix in new styles again, so not to appear like I haven't gone out in 20 years, the repertory of 20 years ago is perfectly suited to the music and impossible to repress; acid dancing and loads of jumping and footwork. Again the wildness of the music reminds me of charismatic Christian church meets voodoo. The Percolator comes out, a new move learnt from YouTube and perfected while writing a paper in my postgrad office and ideally suited to the feel by this stage which has broken out of the austerity of man as machine music, minimalist and techy best served by a contemporary dance style. I watch this one as I don't want to sit too obviously on one style and strangely feel more conscious of being judged in a more discerning environment. But as I said when I break loose as Cam does anything goes—hooray! Total abandon, hair everywhere. Want to try a new spot on floor and would like to try in front of DJ box, very uninspiring group of young'uns have been holding court for hours doing very little. Prime dancing position of course so think I'll muscle in a bit because there's plenty of room or at least get them working it a bit—you have to earn your spots. They seem slightly uncomfortable but tolerate my presence yet are resolute about their reserved places. There are some polite but unconvincing attempts to ramp it. Have discussion later with lady from the day who laments the loss of the hippy vibe on the floor. One agenda I want to bring to floor after observing in rest break is to feminise the male flavour created by tech style of music (there has been some comment that women don't go out to techno nights) - again does Cam respond musically when I bring this in? He appears to, but always like mind and body reading magic. Want to express feminine energy of music without being obviously sexy, use all of body—arm extensions, back bends...
This is not the music for tease, burlesque or ballet. It is elemental.
Talk to Cam and friends after. I told him I didn't know where it was going to go when I came out. He says he didn't know either—of course it's a story that gets made on the night. He tells me his record collection is in disarray—10,000 or more—as he moves back to his parents. Cam has always had one of the most sensual relationships with the dance floor I have experienced.
Crowd by this stage is mostly old! It's also taken this long for my eyes to adjust—always a problem identifying people in the dark. Lots of familiar faces now. Cam has a fan come up and congratulate, and so do I... "Michael" comes up and shakes my hand - I get a cheek kiss "it was a pleasure"... I am gracious, as is he and of course he does not outstay his welcome. Talk to Cam and friends outside—some old acquaintances from times past including one who was good friends with the original owner of my jacket. We are all the same age. They haven't made the choice to have families other than their club ones. Easier to go out at 12 and be home at 5! I am sore and aching, sweat dissolved by icy early morning outside and I don't stay for The Carter Bros live set.
An important part of the research within my PhD, Adelaide Dance Music Culture late 80s-early 90s, is the relationship played between my artistic practice and the dance floor over a 20 year period. This piece is part of a journal that documents my dance journey and other observations over the course of a night out, generally to listen to an artist that is relevant in some way to my study. The researcher now has a family so fieldwork is conducted within the demands of early mornings and early nights. This has created a very different context to my clubbing as a singleton or partnered with no young children. I actually feel quite proud that what was viewed suspiciously by some (such as parents) as I was growing up now has an aura of legitimacy about it. As my father put it, "your miss-spent youth has paid off".[1] There is a certain incredulous admiration from my buddies that I have managed to turn going out and dancing—always a consistent occupation throughout my life—into paid research. This has also allowed me a continued involvement with the dance music scene, at a time when most friends have put aside this part of their lives associated with youthful pursuits, as one would place a relic into a memento box.
However I have come to question these divisions between youth and adulthood particularly as I have met many fellow Generation Xers (most of us in our late 30s to late 40s) who still go out to listen to artists (who are roughly the same age as ourselves) despite the circulating media discourses that tend to perpetrate such dance scenes as "youth" activities. The youth/adult dichotomy was particularly pronounced that evening, as it was an acid house set (a late 80s electronic genre defined by the 303 synth, currently in revival) played by techno exponent DJ HMC in a contemporary environment. It is common to find groups of young iPhone wielding fans forming an impenetrable static front-line army at many of the gigs of older well-known artists such as Derrick May and HMC.[2] Their disengaged participation (standing and texting in this instance) or rock style air pumping, demonstrates to me that they appreciate the superficial aura of the event and artist. However they appear unable to engage in the moment, by interpreting through their bodies, the call and response that occurs between DJ and dancer. It is this fundamental relationship, I would argue, that has made these artists leaders in their field and the dance floor one of the most exciting arenas of contemporary performance art. Being seen and being watched is as important as performing for oneself in this context, where clothes and dance style are gifts you bring to make the night special.
As a result of this ongoing methodology, I have come to see the importance of music and dance as a unifying, energizing and spiritual practice that is surely central to our continuing identity rather than something shed or lost as the trappings of youth. This is particularly so for those of us who experienced the Second Summer of Love (c.1988) first hand.
Cathy Adamek trained as a classical dancer and actor and has performed with many companies including State Opera South Australia and the State Theatre Company of South Australia. Film and TV credits include the feature film Cut, McLeod's Daughters, Chuck Finn and Here's Humphrey which she went on to produce, also a presenter on Out Of the Ordinary for NWS 9. She choreographed and performed original dance theatre at The Sydney Opera House, Adelaide Festival and the award winning Polecats for the 2007 Adelaide Fringe. Since the birth of her son, she continues to work as a leading voice over artist and currently tutors and lectures at the University of South Australia as a PhD candidate with an APA scholarship. Email: <catherine.adamek@unisa.edu.au>.
[1] An unfair assessment on my father's part; my parents were of the "tiger" kind, and I spent my days as a late teen and into my 20s either slogging it out at the ballet barre, at drama school or at university.
[2] The author also wields an iPhone and appreciates the technological mediation can connect a space in new ways, but I believe, quite passionately (dogmatic assertion it may be) that a dance floor is predominantly for dancing and bodily communication. Its very soul is based on present time (as opposed to virtual) body-to-body interaction.