One of the funny things about getting older and still going to music events is how little the people at the club have changed, while the music is always evolving. There are the women who are slightly overdressed for the venue. There are the guys anxious to meet women, but don’t know how to flirt, so they stare and create nuclear levels of discomfort in the women they look at. There are the women who are always on the guest list, know every promoter, and treat VIP as their private domain. (They also laugh at the overdressed women.)
There are the muscular dudes — sometimes pro athletes, often men who love the weight room — who wear tight shirts and radiate “big man on campus.” There are the cozy couples who exist in their own world, dancing close wrapped in their own romantic cocoon. There are the couples whose eyes search the room, either anticipating their next hook up or seeking a third for their current situation.
There are the dancers who come to throw down, who dominate the center of the floor ready to take on all challengers. There are the people who get excited when a certain record comes on, jump out of their seat and, for forty seconds, are the life of the party. But, a minute later, spent of energy, they are moving mechanically before sitting back down. There are the dangerous — men and women — on the edge who are one hard stare, one accidental bump or slipped drink from starting a fight or worse. And there are people like me, sitting back and watching, cataloging and analyzing, fascinated by the party within the party. Certain musical gatherings you can stand back and draw invisible lines between the ex-lovers and current cheaters, the business partners and the gigolos, the druggies and the drinkers, the pure party people and the folks looking to network like a spider’s web of desire, self-interest and ambition. People say they come for the music, but it is the many personal agendas that make them stay.
The big baller, the bashful, the beautiful, the bodacious, the baleful, the boring, the bouncer, the badass, the bootilicious and the bully show up in the mix like the religious on Sunday. The fly gear changes (though certain clothing items always come back.) The slang changes. And the music is always evolving whether it was first heard on a 45rpm, 33rpm LP, eight track, 12 inch single, CD, download or stream. But the types at the club? They remain, to paraphrase Leroi Jones, the ever changing same of nightlife.