This stunning venue, from the outside, was a wonderful blend of modern and historic design – and this blend appeared to be a reoccurring theme of the evening.
The setlist mixed old-school funk tunes seamlessly with new age soul, albeit heavily tipped in favour of the old school. And whilst the majority of people in attendance were around the age of 30-40, there was a healthy mix of people falling either side of that bracket.
Upon arrival, I admit I felt a little disheartened to find a fairly large dance floor (complete with disco ball and vibrant flashing lights) largely empty, with the edges of the floor lined with people casually chatting and sipping on their respective tipple of choice. The music was playing, yet not a soul was dancing. I thought to myself: “Has the funk died?” Then, as if the DJ had heard my troubled thoughts, two white beams of light swept over the floor and invited the people to get up. The invitation was cheerfully accepted but the people didn’t get up. No, the people got down.
The few times in my life that I have witnessed a genuine disco it has been filled with exclusively young people parodying retro dance moves for comedic effect, but watching the people of Stockton on this fateful Saturday night I felt like I experienced the real thing performed by the same hips that swung way back when these tunes were first played. Just when I thought the atmosphere couldn’t get any better, a break dance troupe broke cover and started laying down some of their finest moves bringing the evening to an undeniable crescendo.
I struggle to recall a Saturday night at a club which hasn’t been tainted by some alcohol-induced drama, whether that be juvenile heartbreak or hard lads looking for a scrap in an attempt demonstrate their ‘masculinity’. The omission of such drama was a very welcome change and I’d wholeheartedly recommend this night.