And, of course, I went Nightlife. There was a full moon in Libra and I felt like I was on mushrooms. After a nocturnal romp at Yasaka (the main shrine visited by all the Kyoto geishas) where all the lanterns were lit up for the spring equinox, we went to Metro. The last time I was at that club was when I was still studying in Japan. Seems like a decade ago. Actually, it almost is. How nostalgic. DJ Kouji and Kaoru played the most uplifting house that only Kulu, Ivan and Alan play in Hong Kong. At around 2am, drag queens came out from nowhere (whaa? It’s not a gay club) and we danced (and sang along to) Abba, Britney, Kylie and Madge. Divine.
The next night, there was this huge party at Grand Café in Shinsaibashi, and drunken white English teachers felt the need to harass us Hong Kongers, as they haven’t communicated with people in English for however long they’ve been in Japan. Anyway, one ESL instructor allegedly from San Fran (aren’t they all from “Cali“ or NYC) wouldn’t shut up and kept asking us if he was being annoying, and implored us to not mind him being annoying. Bitch, please. Shut the fuck up. If you find yourself thinking that you might be annoying, or that you have to ask people if they find you annoying, then chances are, you ARE fucking annoying. And you’re on E. The pole dancers made up for that minor irritation. They actually did Cirque du Soleil-like antics, climbing up the pole and staying up there. Extraordinary.
The night before the wedding, I risked looking wretched the next day and went to Rockets to say “Guten Abend” to the beautiful and accomplished Ellen Allien from Berlin, who was in Osaka for her release tour of “Boogy Bytes Vol. 4”. It was this dark, dingy club under the train tracks. Then I entered a second room and WHAM! I was struck by psychedelic strobe lights, snowflake crystals and geometric patterns in rainbow colors rotating and spiraling on two big screens. Slim pyramids, spheres and hemispheres hung from the ceiling and walls, which I interpreted as origami pterodactyls nesting in a forest of gigantic, primordial lychees. That was just my Chuhai and Campari soda-infused state.
Ellen Allien whooped ass. Techno never sounded this good – it was as if R2D2 was singing a song. No it wasn’t just me being intoxicated, it was the shejay’s skills. And the impeccable Japanese speakers. Every filthy bass line was distinct from the bleeps, the electronic owl hoots and clockwork crickets. It’s absolutely refreshing to see people just enjoying dancing and being in their own space, as opposed to checking everyone out and pretending to be in a music video.
I guess the Japanese techno tribe construes arm movements as a bit... far out. Because whenever I danced with my arms, I got astonished looks, not of disdain, but more like, “OH. MY. GOD. I can’t believe that guy just put his hands up in the air and waved them like he just don’t care!” I actually felt a bit uncomfortable getting all that unwarranted attention after moving my hands in a synchronized manner, so I resorted to dropping it like it’s hot when Ellen got down and dirty with “Music is Improper”. I think some Japanese girls then screamed and fainted because it was so “hardcore”. Go figure.