- The Arches is an impressive cave-like venue, dark and atmospheric and perfect for the kind of gig Mogwai lined up this past weekend, with a different vibe planned for every room. Deciding we'd check out the lineup once we got there, though, wasn't the smartest idea in the world. There were no signs identifying which arch is which, so we spent the rest of the night trying to figure things out—"Well, I know what Four Tet looks like and he was playing in that Arch, so that must be Arch 2." As the evening wore on, and the DJ roster seemed to get more and more mixed up, we simply decided to give up trying to catch certain acts and just go with the flow: If the music was good, we'd stay, if not we moved on.
Unfortunately, that meant we kept moving for most of the night. None of the three main rooms ever seemed to ignite, with the possible exception of Arch 3 (could have been front, could have been back, I never figured it out!), which started to gather momentum when Scottish outfit Errors took to the decks. Obviously deciding that a good old electro stomp was in order, they proceeded to lash out everything from Monster Trucks to le Petits Pilous with a little bit of Prince thrown in for good measure. Taking risks and working their hardest to get the crowd going, they were the only DJs I saw who seemed to be really making an effort. And yet despite their stalwart attempts, it never really kicked off.
Much of the problem could be attributed to the fact that pretty much all of the rooms lacked atmosphere. There were no hands in the air, no sense of that buzz and excitement you get when a dancefloor really starts to rock and everyone there is in on the act. Apart from one particularly entertaining dude who seemed to be playing Twister by himself in the middle of the floor, the majority of people looked pretty underwhelmed. The constant movement in and out of each room was testament to the fact that most seemed to be looking for something they just couldn't find.
Eventually, after giving James Holden in the main arch a solid half-hour, we simply decided to call it a night. As we went to get our coats, it suddenly dawned on me that the place had been decidedly underpacked and not as smelly as we're used to. Where was the sweat? Where was the excessive body heat that only a room full of excited clubbers can generate? We concluded that a lot of people standing in the massive queue outside must have given up and gone home. When the average wait time is two to two-and-a-half hours to get in, can you blame them?