Fridge (London)
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Great lighting
Fridge (London)
Member Name: elliot
Product:
Fridge (London)
Date: 13/02/01, updated on 15/02/01 (93 review reads)
Rating:
Advantages: Excellent lighting
Disadvantages: Variable
In Town Hall Parade in the heart of Brixton, The Fridge is hardly what you'd think would be the most appropriate place for a gay club.
But the club has been there for years, and currently plays host not only to the Love Muscle gay club, but also to the excellent Escape from Samasara, and Logic, Pendragon and Berzerk (the final three I've not been to).
The place is a converted cinema, which means that there's a large balcony, at the front of which are a plethora of lights and the lighting control booth. The ceiling, as you would expect, is high, and there's bars at the back of the upstairs and downstairs auditoria, as well as a 'water bar' downstairs where - cunningly enough - you buy water and water only.
Upon entering (often following a long queue), you need to go up the stairs on the left, all the way up to the balcony, across the bar, down the stairs on the other side of the bar and along that passageway to get to the cloakroom. The water bar used to be the cloakroom, but it meant that there was limited room for queueing, so they had to be quicker in there.
The staff in the cloakroom are, at best, miserable, and at worst, looking to be on the verge of suicide. With most clubs, smiling, being friendly and having the right money (£2!!) helps, but this no difference at The Fridge, so I wouldn't bother if I were you. I tried, and my reply was a glassy stare.
Through the cloakroom, you exit half way up the stairs you first climbed. You can then go down, and, while building up confidence to strut your stuff on the dancefloor, hang around on the platformy bit that preceeds the dancefloor; or you can go up to the balcony again, and hang around up there. There are, of course, seats towards the front of the balcony. But don't expect to get one... they're populated largely by people who prefer to chainsmoke and babble at each other.
I've not been to Samsara in years, but my memorie
s of that club are fond. Superb trance, plus a chillout area, which has now been transformed into the cloakroom.
*cough* Sorry. Along the balcony and the downstairs platformy that preceeds the dancefloor are stalls selling all kinds of stuff - joss sticks and glow sticks (but no bedknobs and broom sticks :) ), and stuff made from hemp.
At Love Muscle, which has been having a hard time of it recently, what with not enough people going, the music can be variable, but generally is fun, with euro pop mixed with harder beats. Nothing serious that's going to make you disappear into your own little world.
The lighting is superb, and this is potentially the best aspect of the club. If, that is, the staff can be bothered to use it to its fullest potential. I was told that if all the lights were turned up for more than 30 seconds it would blow all the fuses along Town Hall Parade. This is probably not entirely accurate, but it would probably cause London Electricity's substation to trip, creating a power cut (which isn't actually, that unusual - after all, new building developments often necessitate the upgrading of local substations). Nevertheless, it does give some indication of the potential power of the lights.
There's no laser, which some people say counts against it, but I think that when they use the searchers (the black rectangular boxes with a circular mirror at one end that projects the light and moves it and stuff) properly then it more than makes up for it.
However, the lighting computer has been known to crash, causing all the lights to switch off, and they will revert to their preprogrammed setting - pointing a blue light straight down - until the system is restored. It did this on New Year's 2000/1.
In common with virtally all clubs, the place hasn't quite got it right with the air conditioning. It's often too hot, but sometimes way too cold. The former is always the case with th
e café which is located to one side of the dancefloor and which is difficult to find unless you know it's there. The café has been commonly mistaken for a sauna, and I've suggested to the staff on one occassion that I put more water on the coals (they, unlike the cloakroom staff, see the funny side).
The club usually closes at 6am.
But the club has been there for years, and currently plays host not only to the Love Muscle gay club, but also to the excellent Escape from Samasara, and Logic, Pendragon and Berzerk (the final three I've not been to).
The place is a converted cinema, which means that there's a large balcony, at the front of which are a plethora of lights and the lighting control booth. The ceiling, as you would expect, is high, and there's bars at the back of the upstairs and downstairs auditoria, as well as a 'water bar' downstairs where - cunningly enough - you buy water and water only.
Upon entering (often following a long queue), you need to go up the stairs on the left, all the way up to the balcony, across the bar, down the stairs on the other side of the bar and along that passageway to get to the cloakroom. The water bar used to be the cloakroom, but it meant that there was limited room for queueing, so they had to be quicker in there.
The staff in the cloakroom are, at best, miserable, and at worst, looking to be on the verge of suicide. With most clubs, smiling, being friendly and having the right money (£2!!) helps, but this no difference at The Fridge, so I wouldn't bother if I were you. I tried, and my reply was a glassy stare.
Through the cloakroom, you exit half way up the stairs you first climbed. You can then go down, and, while building up confidence to strut your stuff on the dancefloor, hang around on the platformy bit that preceeds the dancefloor; or you can go up to the balcony again, and hang around up there. There are, of course, seats towards the front of the balcony. But don't expect to get one... they're populated largely by people who prefer to chainsmoke and babble at each other.
I've not been to Samsara in years, but my memorie
s of that club are fond. Superb trance, plus a chillout area, which has now been transformed into the cloakroom.
*cough* Sorry. Along the balcony and the downstairs platformy that preceeds the dancefloor are stalls selling all kinds of stuff - joss sticks and glow sticks (but no bedknobs and broom sticks :) ), and stuff made from hemp.
At Love Muscle, which has been having a hard time of it recently, what with not enough people going, the music can be variable, but generally is fun, with euro pop mixed with harder beats. Nothing serious that's going to make you disappear into your own little world.
The lighting is superb, and this is potentially the best aspect of the club. If, that is, the staff can be bothered to use it to its fullest potential. I was told that if all the lights were turned up for more than 30 seconds it would blow all the fuses along Town Hall Parade. This is probably not entirely accurate, but it would probably cause London Electricity's substation to trip, creating a power cut (which isn't actually, that unusual - after all, new building developments often necessitate the upgrading of local substations). Nevertheless, it does give some indication of the potential power of the lights.
There's no laser, which some people say counts against it, but I think that when they use the searchers (the black rectangular boxes with a circular mirror at one end that projects the light and moves it and stuff) properly then it more than makes up for it.
However, the lighting computer has been known to crash, causing all the lights to switch off, and they will revert to their preprogrammed setting - pointing a blue light straight down - until the system is restored. It did this on New Year's 2000/1.
In common with virtally all clubs, the place hasn't quite got it right with the air conditioning. It's often too hot, but sometimes way too cold. The former is always the case with th
e café which is located to one side of the dancefloor and which is difficult to find unless you know it's there. The café has been commonly mistaken for a sauna, and I've suggested to the staff on one occassion that I put more water on the coals (they, unlike the cloakroom staff, see the funny side).
The club usually closes at 6am.
Summary:
