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Rub-a-dub, Skism

Another Dose of Whub-Whub

by Bianca Fernandes, Jacques Snow / 22.04.2011

The dancefloor is barely being used, seems “bass-master” Fletcher isn’t enough motivation to leave the house before the usual 9pm. Is it Reggae night at Mercury? No, it’s just Rub-a-dub. By 21:30 there’s a queue bending around the block outside of Mercury, the colourful scenesters packed into the barriers, impatiently awaiting their dose of whub-whub and fairly cheap tequila shots. But inside it still seems like a mid-week late night after party.

rub-a-dub, skism

By the time Hyphen is introduced the amount of bass-heads upstairs has increased massively; electro punks skipping around and bobbing their heads and a few stoners watching from the back wall. The dancefloor is now full and the bar is annoyingly jammed; with everyone trying to get as drunk as possible before the main act. There is an art to enjoying a live dubstep act of this nature, you have to reach your perfect level of drunkenness when the performances start so you’re drunk enough to escape into the music but not too fucked that you can no longer stand; clearly this takes years to master as there is already puke on the floor. My slight buzz doesn’t cut it here, something needs to get me moving and right now the music isn’t doing it. So I give it a break and head downstairs, where corky old school rock seems to be creating more of a party then upstairs. I bet it’s that stripper pole. I wonder what type of dancing dubstep and a stripper pole would evoke. The possibilities are endless, my imagination takes over. Would it be worse than the grown men upstairs skipping to drum ’n bass and dancing like an 80 year old grandpa trying to “mimic” the rhythm of the beat?

The question, at this point, in all functioning minds is “When is SKisM coming on?”

rub-a-dub, skism

A Rub-a-dub party is normally a variety of teenage scenes mixed together and actually behaving themselves – mostly. Of course the prissy emo kids and the druggie disrespectful post-jock types have to start a fight or two, but it always ends up being more like attack of the girlfriends with the bouncers getting involved before anything too exciting happens. “Give me that fucking shoe!” Someone shouts. Very polite that they throw people out with their shoes.

Near the end of Hyphen’s endlessly repetitive set, anticipation takes hold and I wonder if seeing an international dubstep DJ will be as exciting as an international band, playing my favourite songs right in front of me? Will the energy be the same or if it will just be like every other time I’ve listened to a downloaded EP. People start pouring into the already incapacitated dancefloor. People you haven’t seen all night. Hundreds more than there were earlier. Did they just arrive now? Why are they all so sweaty? Why does one have a balloon Dalmatian above her head? Oh yeah, it’s about that time, the trance hippies have arrived. When MC Jeronimo invites SKisM to the stage I’m just glad that he’s stopped rapping. Suddenly there are 10 photographers onstage and the Don’t Party people are there shoving their video camera in everyone’s face. He opens with “Rave Review”, a remix of the Henry Rollins comedy piece that our local DJs have been playing for the last year and admittedly is one of my favourites. I like Henry Rollins. I can tell by the reaction of the crowd that this is what they have been waiting for all night. I don’t think anyone wants it to end, but it does and it’s followed by the rest of his popular songs, in order of most popular to least. Sharing space with all these trucker cap wearing kids is finally worth it, just for this. But now he’s played all the songs that I know and my body has no idea what to do with the tracks that are fresh to my ears. Short-lived excitement, replaced with the need for some fresh air before I punch the bushy haired girl that has been bumping her ass and her afro into me for about an hour now. I’m not the only one with that idea as the crowd start heading downstairs almost as quickly as they poured in. Turns out, it’s not the same as your favourite live band, but neither is it like listening to my iPod. It’s louder. And there are a lot more people than I usually have in my room. But that’s about it.

rub-a-dub, skism

rub-a-dub

rub-a-dub, Skism

All images © Jacques Snow.

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