… short dark night of trance
Back in Bangalore for the second stint of lessons in Hindustani raga, and Saturday turns out to be one horrendous bad hair day. An afternoon of getting increasingly pent up, and I think the only way of straightening my head out is a decent night of dance … it’s about time to explore the rich nightlife that Bangalore has to offer anyway.
The day had started to get strangely aggravating from about lunchtime, ordering an ice cream in a restaurant, and being entice by something that claimed to be a scoop of vanilla a scoop of mango and pieces of real mango for about 50Rs, a solid price for 2 scoops of ice cream. Ok so when I get a gacky Indian dessert with the promised ice cream, sugar syrup, crappy wafers, green and red non specific dried fruit, and maybe a sliver of real mango, I get irritated enough to give the boys heat over the dodgy advertising (I’d been spoiled in Mysore where a scoop of home made ice cream with a fresh fruit salad could be had for 15Rs if you knew where to look). I think they were so surprised by someone calling their premium dessert ‘absolute fucking crap’ (plus complete ripoff false advertising etc) that one of the waiters nearly laughed … so from there the day started to get really gnarly, and me, progressively more jumpy. Bilingual arguments with bus conductors caused by language differences, random collisions with people in the street … the evening clarinet lesson a slight calm down, but still tetchy at 8:30.
From my musty dive in Majestic, I head to MG road, Bangalore’s region of decadent Western habits: shopping, bars, expensive restaurants and clubs. A stress free bus journey dropped me in the opposite end of the district to what I was familiar with … a bit of a wander, and I’m in vaguely familiar territory, looking for food and prepared for at least one night to indulge a bit.
Some of the bars are huge complexes, lounge bars with dancefloors. I wander past these, marking out a few options, and at the door of a small restaurant, someone leans over, asks, ‘do you like trance’, and points me up the stairs. I’d been remembering many great nights of trance … this seemed to be the sign.
So ‘Paradise’ has a restaurant and small bar with dance floor, a low cover charge, and pumping dark trance delivered by a local dj. First, stock up with food … it’s not cheap, but the paneer masala is good. A whiff of charis and a glance in the right direction … one of the local crew comes over for a chat while I’m waiting for the food to arrive.
Prashat is a well educated Brahmin mid 20’s with good education, good english, and in depth knowledge of the local trance scene. He could easily be taken for a wandering tourist of Indian origin. Om t shirt, flouro beads in his hair, magic mushroom pouch. For once a conversation with an Indian which doesn’t do the run of 20 questions. Instead I get info’d up on the local trance scene goss. And it seems that things have been good and bad. There have been busts at outdoor parties, and the underground scene around Bangalore is a bit of a shambles. Mostly he is referring to a few events from about 3 months prior. There has been good mileage gained by the conservative Indian politicos and press. In a culture where drinking is frowned on, and family values held in very high esteem, drug use is a complete no go zone. So while it’s not unusual for police and security in Oz to admit (mainly in private) that raves and trance parties with ecstasy and psychedelic use predominating over alcohol and other drugs are more peaceful even than the average bar, in India, anything out of the norm is frowned upon. And trance is by intention and definition ‘out of the norm’. Police corruption is bad … they are poorly paid … and tourism is not a big ingredient of the Bangalore economy. It is easy then to bust or harrass individuals (rather than promoters) for Baksheesh. The law is starting to send in undercovers, and these seem to be pretty effective.
I hear a bit about Kodaikanal in Tamil Nadu, a place for in season (august-september) picking of magic mushrooms. If this was a different journey at a different time I might have been seeking this, but not now. But it seems, contrary to what I’ve heard, that there is a psychedelic scene in India. Though mainly this is from more inner scene types who’ve connected well with the old school goa hippies. But this inner core seems to have picked up some of the precious lessons of the psychedelic experience … I think these are close to the Indian psyche anyway.
Food is delicious, I’m charged 20Rs over what I expect, and then another 50 change doesn’t come back. Hmmm. I hassle for it, pointing out several times that 300-150 -100 = 50 … didn’t they do maths at school. Probably they are hoping the ‘rich white guy’ will forget about it, or perhaps there is some confusion about whether I’m being charged on the English menu prices or the Kannada menu prices. Comes in the end. I settle down with a warm kingfisher. If I was following the mood of the day, I would have given them heat … kingfisher beer is bad at the best of times and putrid when warm. My big indulgence though… a couple of cigarettes. Well my bad mood isn’t from latent cigarette addiction, they don’t help … but the beer does slightly.
Anoth conversation with a different dude who springs over, and more info on the Tamil scene. I’d had a bit of a connection to this with the Bella Ciao mob, but he confirms that the Chennai scene is mainly house parities down EC road where anything can be had, but connecting to the scene is difficult. Conversation wanders onto generalities culture and economics, and I wander back into the dance floor.
Decor is very old school. Some fluoro string layouts, a couple of fluoro banners with fairies aliens, and strange critters. Mainly darkened space. A few scanning lights, no video. There is the odd whiff of grass, a few drinking the occasional beer. But mainly dancing. It’s a very peaceful hassle free vibe, but it’s a very boys own place .. girls in the minority, and mainly with their boyfriends.
DJ, behind DJM and CDJs. is ok, and the choices are fairly conservative, generic. Nice mixing, not much tweaking, no fancy tricks. Not a big bass sound, strong mids. Fast but not too fast, hovering close to 140 bpm. Australian floors are a appreciably faster, and a lot heavier on the bottom end. Good for the heavy metal loving Indian lads. Not what I’d call a chick-friendly style at all … no wonder it’s a boys night out. But boys dancing together is a less aggressive vibe in India than elsewhere … girls are often closeted, and boys are often in large mobs with two much energy. A random collection of standard trance dance styles across the floor. I contemplate splitting to one of the lounge bars, but in the end decide to stay put, and explore this particular corner of contemporary India.
In a lot of ways, it all feels in a bubble. If I close my eyes, and don’t look too hard for clues, I could be anywhere in the world any time in the last 10 years. Less radical dress, though. Occaisional psuchedelic T shirt insignia or bead. Not the radical sensibilities and embraced wierdness, neo gothic, or post spike fashion sensibilities of Oz. I am surrounded by memories of small Melbourne clubs, the mansion c. 1998, some of the nights at pony. Not quite as hipped out as Global Warming or the more rad Melbourne scene. But this is conservative India, so I guess this is as whacked out as I can expect. People have to walk through the streets to get here. And Indians will stare at almost anything out of the ordinary.
In the end, the night is way too short. Coming to a halt around 11, just as I’m starting to warm up bones that haven’t boogied in quite a few months. This is the big disappointment. Wander quickly onto the street, and get swept away before I can check whether there is a next plan to the proceedings. A few rumours but nothing that doesn’t involve putting my trust in an auto driver. Contemplate scoring some grass, but fortunately think wiser of it when I get offered some at a very bad price … about 10 times what it should be (1500 a for what sounds like about a thol. this is worse than tourist average) … when I get this kind of crap now, I usually walk away in disgust … typically it comes from auto drivers and touts, and I know that the situation will be laced with messiness.
The lounge bars have shut almost at the same time, so my chance at finding a club with a more comfortable boy girl ratio is up in smoke. I wander to the other end of MG. An auto driver is hassling me 200 for the 30Rs ride to Majestic. (by the meter it’s about 30Rs with a night surcharge 50-100%) but its closing time, the streets are crowded, feeding time for the auto shark. It’s a long walk with no buses, I get him down to 100 by walking away and ignoring him till he came to my price.
Back to the hotel room. Seedy, musty, and home. Still waiting for that magic night of dance that will bring a morning bliss from body transcendence, still there for the hint of romance, but it’s not to be had today, and by the looks of things, not to be had in Bangalore.
