- The revolution has apparently already happened: For those who hate superclubs, take heart. Small club nights with quality content are cropping up all over Dublin, Belfast and beyond. Young promoters who relate to the producers are bringing those acts in and hijacking the scene.
And, as I roll up to ThinkTank, it's plain to see that it's working. This venue, which has been re-incarnated from its former life as The Hub, is packed. The entrance stairs leading downwards are escalator-style handrails, the walls are decorated with white stucco art mouldings and—in place of thrashy wooden floors—is a glamorous polished-looking venue. Which also means you've got to pay: After forking over my €12 entrance, a bouncer tells me that "Everyone has to check their coat."
Split into two rooms and decked out with '60s retro cream leather sofas and tiled floors, the back room is painted black with a spinning disco ball that sprays emissions of light. The sounds are grimy tech step and a bit "nosebleed" for me. Looks nice, though: The front room is painted white and Dublin street artists have taken over the walls with imagery consisting of a street girl giggling with angel wings on her back, striped knee-high socks and skater trainers, and a 3-D black silhouette of a boy blowing bubbles while flocks of ravens flutter about him.
I ask a girl sitting beside me what she thinks, "I haven't been here in six years, and it was a dive before. They've done a good job." An exotic looking girl swings around to me, taps me on the shoulder and produces a lollipop. Fionn & Feno blast out a set that is tough bass-driven loopy techno.
A group of girls stand at the bar slamming Jägermeister and Red Bull; caked in fake tan and backcombed barnets that look like bird's nests on their heads. A guy starts chatting, "Once you come here, you won't stop. I've been coming for months. I love it." A guy wearing a beanie hat takes my hand and slobbers over it. "Ah Maaaan, a St. Bernard wouldn't even produce as much slob as you've just levelled onto me, euggggghh." Coyly, he adds a little wink to his act. I turn to the guy beside me and use his leg as a wiping post. At first, he's annoyed, but he quickly puts the grin back on and keeps moving his head to the grooves.
Ah, yes, the grooves. Jesper Dahlback is the star of the evening, playing a blippy progressive tech set filled with blocks of solid beats, bass, tight snares and kick drums. He wraps loops of the same sounds to transform the set into stomping tech house that reverbs around the floor then jacks into uplifting tech trance. One to watch certainly. And so is the club.