Art’s House presents Peggy Gou at Sub Club, 14/12/17

Regardless of who or what it is you go to see at Sub Club, there is always a feature in common – it is a night at Sub Club, and is therefore very intense.

We are told upon entering to go and get a drink “or something” whilst we wait for the cloakroom queue to diminish.

After doing so, I join the back of the queue, as long as it was when I came in; I am standing next to – that is to say, neither in front of nor behind – a lady in the queue.

In a rare act of gentlemanliness I let her go ahead, I’ve already been waiting for ten minutes so what’s another forty seconds or so?

“That’s it, no more room, sorry”, I am told when I get to the front – two jackets, a hat, a scarf and a pair of gloves in paw; that’s another forty seconds it seems.

Dejected, weighed down and with righteous indignation I make like an army man who trains by treading water with all his gear on into the sweaty, pulsating mass that is the crowd to launch my limbs around to some techno for four hours – and to complain to and seek sympathy from, my friends, who don’t care.

Although Peggy Gou might be known for some nuance in her sets, not a lot of it is brought to Sub Club.

Artists have a tendency to pander to the reputation and nature of Glasgow’s premier mangle house – and since my knuckles are still raw, red and grazed from punching the roof of the establishment in disjointed concert with everyone else comfortably able to reach that end, I mustn’t say that I’m complaining.

The rhythmic hypnotism of the set is inherent in the constant and unchanging beat, lapped lovingly with occasional and highly welcome disco and funk motifs – which increase in frequency towards the end.

As is often the case, it can be hard to distinguish between being at your favourite artists DJ Sub Club set or standing alone, blindfolded in a room full of weaponised speakers set to debilitate – but the unavoidable contact of skin and fabric and the constant pulling and pushing of people trying to get from A to B reminds you of your surroundings.

As usual, there is a friendly if highly intense atmosphere, excellent if highly intense music and everyone has a memorable if highly intense evening.

The chant of “one more tune” brings just that and it is a belter – whatever it is.

As the lights come up and the gear comes down, I am happy not to have to visit the cloakroom on the way out the door and into the brutal winter weather of Glasgow’s early morning.

Words: Paul Aitken


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