Club Land - The Return

Now, The Good News: London is going through a clubbing renascence. "What you mean?", you ask me, "it has never died, in the first place." I say, you could be right, but for me, in the last 4 or 5 years, the club scene was as boring and predictable as my grandma's daily routine. 'Same old, same old' became the motto of most dance floors not only around the world, but also in London's vast clubland. Until, that is, the indie rock sphere infiltrated into the tired rave bubble. Say what you want, but since that colourful trio called the Klaxons decided to go on stage wearing fluor jumpers and playing rock tunes tinted with acid house flavours, I caught a glimpse of an enlightened future. Since then, fashion has gone through an amazing reinvention of the classic 80s/90s club gear, and every proud East London club kid made the decision to have the most absurd fun with their wardrobes, and consequently, with their nights out. Now, clubbers dance to indie rock, old pop, post-punk, dirty electro, funk carioca, justin timberlake, whatever makes you laugh and shake that size zero arse. Shoreditch, thank god, is home to some of the most exciting (and exclusive - tell me about it) parties in the whole of the city: BoomBox, Trailer Trash, Modular, are just some of the tons of small but unperfectly formed parties that together compose the so called "New Rave" scene. It's all about dressing up and showing off the eccentricity and idisincrasy inside us all. Call it what you like, I'm just glad the fun is back.

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