The magic of Zouk and the glory days of running free: Clubbing in the 90s
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The magic of Zouk and the celebrity days of running free: Clubbing in the 90s
My Singapore Life is a CNA Lifestyle series about coming of age in the Lion City. This week, get clubbing at Jiak Kim Street and meet its tribe of beautiful people.
Zouk was a weekend haven for many clubbers in the 90s. (Art: Chern Ling)
13 Jul 2022 06:30AM (Updated: 05 Jul 2022 08:49AM)
The pounding on my front door was so loud, I could feel the vibrations from all the manner in the kitchen, where I was badly trying to prepare myself a second cup of instant coffee.
I muttered a string of succinct swear words every bit I walked towards the door, rubbing the tiredness from my eyes. Who the hell could exist here at seven in the morn?
Heed: My Singapore Life: The magic of Zouk and the glory days of running free, read by Lim Yu-Beng
My mother was out at work, and my older brother Balan was out common cold – with The Future Sound Of London album playing in the groundwork.
The magic of Zouk and the glory days of running free
I opened the door to find Selvam, my neighbor buddy who looked like Jimi Hendrix merely slayed it on the trip the light fantastic toe floor. He had a cigarette called-for in his trembling right hand and a tin of beer in his left.
"I can't find my house key. Can I bunk in for a bit?"
"Sure," I replied, letting him in and mildly surprised that my morning was picking up right where we ended the night just a few hours agone.
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Selvam and I had merely gotten dwelling house from an amazing night at Zouk, where my friends and I spent virtually of our money on sambuca shots and jugs of vodka with Red Bull, which explained our wired, walking-on-clouds experience while waiting for the outset autobus at 5.30am.
I was young, very broke and simply about to consummate my National Service. Only all was adept in the universe because we had witnessed "The Wizard," aka Jeff Mills, Detroit'south legendary DJ and tape producer, playing his very first Singapore prepare that night in 1996.
He was known for his quick and clean fingers on the knobs, like he was dealing cards. And what a performance it was, with three turntables and a 909 drum machine.
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Selvam stumbled his way to the living room. "I bet I dropped my keys on the trip the light fantastic toe floor or at the omnibus terminate. Or I swallowed it!" he yelled, throwing himself onto my rattan burrow. "I can't get into my flat, Ramesh! And I have to be at work at 2pm!"
"But what the hell," he said, a smile breaking on his face. "Information technology's worth it for Jeff Mills, lah,"
Zouk was our weekend oasis.
I am very lucky to have grown up in a home filled with music. My parents had a decent record drove consisting of disco, rock 'n' roll and Indian motion-picture show soundtracks.
Dancing and singing were second nature in our household, where there was seldom a quiet moment.
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My brother picked upward DJing while in secondary school and added a huge collection of music to our stash, ranging from Depeche Mode and Sade to Public Enemy and Rage Confronting The Machine.
He shortly showed me the ropes to DJing and introduced me to various sub-genres of music. I caught my kickoff live punk show in 1992 when Henry Rollins performed at the SLF auditorium with his band. That experience stays with me till today.
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I was hanging out with skaters, punk rockers, indie heads and DJs. This was my community during my formative years as a creative. And we all had one thing in common.
Zouk was our weekend haven.
Entering its traditional warehouse space in Jiak Kim Street frequently felt like walking into a tripped out Peter Greenaway film set up. Its intimate, intricately illustrated Balearic blueprint was like some sort of three-dimensional assemblage that took its cues from installation art.
Heed: My Singapore Life: The Daughter Who Hung Out With The 'Mat Roker' Boys, read past Pam Oei
The 90s was an heady fourth dimension for Zouk and electronic music. We were exposed to everything from bands similar Kevin Saunderson's Inner City busting out the dance floor archetype Expert Life on a live PA, to an enchanting operation of Bjork's complex sonic-collage concert – two nights in a row.
As a part-time hustle, I started DJing around bars and smaller clubs. My appetite for electronic music grew, and Zouk was the venue – or sanctuary, I should say – that fed me.
And information technology wasn't just the music. The existent magic came from the cast of characters that created the vibe. The people that made the tribe.
Zouk teemed with positive energy – people smiling, laughing, dancing, hugging, kissing.
The infamous bespectacled dancing physician taking middle stage on the podium, Maniam's rhythms on the tablas, Najip'southward fluid dance moves – all reflecting the diverse connection of people from all corners of Singapore.
Zouk teemed with positive energy – people smiling, laughing, dancing, hugging, kissing.
It was cute.
Selvam leaned over to flip the record playing in my living room. It was the B-side of Cream'southward Disraeli Gears, which has been his staple reanimation album for all the years I take known him.
"Okay one last song and I have to go, man. I really wish I could telephone call in sick!" he snarled. "Then next Friday, I got a programme, brother. Remember that daughter at MTV Bar last nighttime?"
I rolled my eyes, lit a cigarette and looked at him with suspicion.
"She invited us to Substation for an experimental show, human being. Sounds cool right? It's past Zai Kuning. Then the usual lah, nosotros head to Zouk after the show. What exercise you think?" he asked.
Of course, there were nights when some of us didn't even make it to the entrance of Zouk.
This is what Selvam meant by "the usual": Every week, we'd circular up the rest of the gang to encounter at Zion Road market by 10pm, with a canteen of Dewars (yeah, Dewars, the roughest of the lot) and the cheapest vodka we could beget, and catch upward over a nice big repast courtesy of the killer bak chor noodle joint.
So the dancefloor at Zouk past midnight to burn those calories.
Of course, at that place were nights when some of us didn't fifty-fifty get in to the entrance of Zouk. The rest of gang would take turns doing nanny duty equally the drunk ones slept it off past the Zion Road omnibus cease. Those were wild times, and we felt… free.
Next week'south plans sorted, we hugged and Selvam left my firm in his endeavour to have a productive day at work.
I closed the door and chuckled. Friday was going to be epic.
Ramesh Krishnan eventually became a guest DJ for Zouk. He's currently a DJ, sound designer, curator, and founder of Tropika, an initiative centred on global music, fine art and social justice themes.New episodes of My Singapore Life are published every Sunday at cna.asia/podcasts.
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