Games for (Indie) Rock Clubs
By Renyi • Jan 14th, 2009 • Category: Lead StoryThe clubbing scene in Cardiff is generally vibrant and exciting - certainly in relation to the alternative music scene, anyway. With venues such as Barfly, Clwb Ifor Bach and of course, the one and only Metros, there’s always a good rock night taking place somewhere in the city.
However, there may be times when conversation goes a little slack - possibly because everyone’s still hungover from the seventy-two sambuca shots (each) consumed at yesterday’s house party, or the fact that it’s been less than twenty-four hours since you last caught up on everyone’s news… at yesterday’s house party. So, inspired by Belle de Jour’s ‘Pub Games for Whores’, here are a few things to do when your night out starts to look a bit too run-of-the-mill for your liking:
I Fucked the Bassist: Name-drop as shamelessly as possible in a conversation, but avoid simply using the term ‘One of my friends…’ Whoever creates the most interesting backstory wins. E.g. ‘My mother in law was Gerard Way’s chiropractor for three years’ or ‘My girlfriend’s father once had a minor altercation with Josh Homme in a tanning salon.’
The Who?: Invent obscure names for rock bands when asked where your music tastes lie - the person who manages to come up with the most wildly imaginative name wins. Plus points if the person talking to you replies, ‘Omg, I love them! I think I saw them at Glastonbury in 2003, they were totally amazing.’ Minus points if you find out later that there is actually a band with that name after all.
Play That Funky Music: Pervert the playlist by approaching the DJ and asking for a song that is an entirely opposite or an inappropriate genre to the evening’s playlist, e.g. requesting Steps during a metal night. Plus points if the DJ is kind enough to play it. (Variation: Ask the DJ to play someone likely to be on the playlist, but change the name of the song you request to something that sounds highly unusual for that particular artist, e.g. ‘Can you play “Walking On Sunshine” by Marilyn Manson, please?’)
Toast Run: Specifically to be played in Metros, where - to those of you who don’t frequent the place - they hand out (buttered?) toast from the bar at midnight. See how many pieces you can collect in a series of multiple trips spent standing in line before they eventually get wise to you and refuse to serve you anymore. Again, invention is the key to this game, and you can score extra points by changing your appearance to delude bar staff into thinking you’re a different person, e.g. borrowing someone’s scarf or trilby. The person with the most toast at the end of the night wins - that is, if you haven’t eaten it all already.
Your #1 Fan: Approach a random (non-celebrity) person and tell them how much you love their music. Ask them when their next album’s going to be released, and say that you enjoyed their last gig at T.J.’s in Newport when they smashed their guitar and spat on the ceiling. See how long you can keep up this conversation despite their protestations that they’ve never touched a musical instrument in their life. Minus points if they back away from you and tell you that you’re crazy. Plus points if they play along with it from the beginning - it could make for an interesting night. Gold star if it turns out that they really are in a band. (See I Fucked the Bassist.)
Like so many young women of her generation, Renyi began her career as an FHM High Street Honey in an attempt to become the first Malaysian Katie Price. When informed by plastic surgeons on Harley Street that her quest for a 30JJ cup size was ‘beyond the skill of mankind’, Renyi chose to put her flourishing career as a glamour model on hold and opted to study for a BA in English Literature instead.
Heeding The All Nighter’s call for an editor, Renyi applied for the job and managed to pass all of the stipulated tests and initiation rites, such as: Walking into HMV and buying six copies of Boyzone's latest release, going on a three month tour in Iraq and perhaps most challenging of all, downing a pint of Baileys, emerging barely alive but triumphant.
When not clutching a double vodka, blackcurrant and lemonade on the dancefloor at Metros, Renyi can usually be found removing spare apostrophes from various texts with a small silver sieve, clay pigeon shooting, watching University Challenge, and explaining why she finds lederhosen so amusing.
She will be an asset to the website and the team are already noticing apostrophes going missing in our articles.
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