6 Things I Love About Fabric

I currently reside in Sydney, Australia..which is wonderful an’ all…with its weather and food and beaches and tans and Bondi and coffee and blah blah blah, BUT…one thing it lacks…and one thing I miss more than my mum (sorry Mum), is Fabric Nightclub. Here are six of MY favourite things (past and present) about an adventure to Fabric, which is, in my humble opinion – one of the greatest clubs in the UNIVERSE.

1. Hitting The Dance Floor Running

Having trash-bagged the entire train journey quaffing cheap vodka and Fanta; scarfed a pill at the pub up t’ road and survived a bone chilling queue – upon entry we’re royally shitfaced. The club is vibratingBreaks emanate from the walls and our bodies twitch to the ‘cloakroom shuffle’ (I just made that up) Conversations are on overdrive, and we’re frothing at each other with zeal. Anticipation (amongst other things) courses through our veins. And suddenly we’re  in (cloakroom ticket lost immediately), and melting our way through the crowd like Alex Mac – bodies parting for us like Moses and the red sea. The music is pumping and we’re going for glory. Flexing, cavorting, fist pumping, bass facing, living in that exact moment and fucking loving it!



2. The Music:

Goes without saying really. Epic line ups. Always. Over the years, the decks have been graced by everyone from Carl Cox to Andy C, The Freestylers to Carl Craig, Goldie To Diplo, to Villalobos to Spank Rock, to Hospitality Records and Ellen Allien… I could go on forever. Raging since 99′, these ridonkulous line ups have carved then an indelible mark on the UK club scene. They show no sign of easing back on the awesome.

3. Smoking With Strangers:

Now this is a long gone past time, now a mere moment in history…but back in the day (pre smoking ban) one of the highlights of my evening would be sliding down a sweaty corridor wall, nestling amongst strangers and immediately being offered a joint. This was followed by wondrously deep conversations, heavy gurning and often ended in a heartfelt and sweaty embrace, maybe even a group mauling. Sounds like a cliche…but those cliche’s came from somewhere!

4. The Sound System: 

Fucking loud. But not just loud…crisp to the point of ear bleeding, and the bass…beautiful, bone rattling, poo inducing bass. I can feel it in my soul. It’s probably one of my favorite things in life, aside from eating. Lovely bass. I’m not sure if its healthy to come home with ringing ears, but by jove, you wouldn’t want it any other way. You can bet your buns – after the thrashing my lugs have taken – I’ll be deaf as a post. I can see it now, yelling at my grandkids about the Plump DJ’s, and demonstrating ‘booty shaking’ to the Stanton Warriors – played through an antiquated sound system. Ooh, in my day…

5. Lolling On The Leather Beds:

This section of the club was a most marvellous idea – beds in dark corners. Amazing.  I suppose this kinda ties in with ‘weed smoking with strangers’. Much of the same awesomeness; friendships made, boundaries broken, one night love affairs conducted and connections, old and new happening all around like bright sparks of electricity. Boundaries broken. Good vibes.

6. Getting Lost: 

Fabric is like a raw bricked underground labyrinth. A chasm of confusion. A dark, pulsating rabbit warren. EVERY time I visit, I feel like I’m in a new club. It’s mind boggling. Booze and narcotics do nothing to aid my sense of direction, so I often find myself casually lost. Bumbling around, happily confused and making friends on every corner. I guess it’s all part of the adventure.

Fabric…I love you.