Dublin In The Rave Old Times

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Dublin Old School Nightclubs by Maxi

Any doves?

Do you remember the good old days before the Ghostown?

Mark at Jam Art Prints writes:

We have a signed limited edition giclée print of Old School Nightclubs by Maxi in a a2 size to give away to Sarah Murphy an old clubbing Broadsheet reader.

It’s a print inspired by all the dance clubs, including Sides, The Pod, and The System. from days gone by.

To enter, give us the craziest memory of a night in one of the clubs in Maxi’s print (above).

There’s probably very little to remember from those nights, but the best memory wins.

Lines MUST close at 6.15am!!

Water’s a tenner.

(smiley face)

Jam Art Prints

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46 thoughts on “Dublin In The Rave Old Times

  1. Stephen

    “Give us the craziest memory of a night in one of these clubs.” Can you guarantee immunity from prosecution?

    1. Cú Chulainn

      Walking into the Temple of Sound to have David Holmes playing the sound of my soul whole his mate played the trumpet. Snogged a lot of strangers, smoked a split with the undercover guard, buzzed on pineapple, that night, but that was normal. Having your soul sung to you..? That was the craziest ever..

      And, it’s 18:14 and I’d love the poster.. thanks, Cú

        1. Bodger

          MacGafraidh, I’ve just emailed Mark at Jam Art to select a winners and two runners-up.

  2. Liam Deliverance

    Many fuzzy memories from these magical places of dance, I was never let in to the POD for some reason and 2 visits to System marked the end of the era for me personally. I do distinctly remember one gig in the Ormonde though, it was 1996 and just before Christmas week. Myself and 2 buds got dropped in to Dame Street by my Mam, she would not have known that we were heading to Ormonde Quay later, as I thanked my Mam and got out she forced a £20 into my hand as well as a bag of Mars Funsize. I stuffed them into my jacket pocket and got busy with a few pints. During the obligatory search from the “very” hands-on bouncers at the Ormonde they found the bag and looked at me funny, I shrugged my shoulders, ripped open the bag and offered one each to the three bouncers, they smiled and accepted, shrugged their shoulders and sent me inside. Again I forgot about the Mars bars after putting them back in my jacket, I was more than a little embarrassed by them too. The night was a good one, couldn’t tell you who was playing, busy as with Christmas looming the next gigs would be a couple of weeks away. Sometime in the early hours, still in the Ormonde, that bag resurfaced, and never has a small piece of chocolate, caramel and nougat tasted so very good. I shared them around and made at least 10 new friends that night, of course I never saw any of them again but hopefully they remember fondly that night with yer man and his bag of little Mars bars!

  3. Slightly Bemused

    Showing my age even more, I do not recognise any of these club names.

    I grew up in the era and area where Nijinski’s was king! Down to the pub for a few quick ones to get the blood pumping, before onto the bus to the hallowed ground. With a minimum entry of 21 years old, there were a lot of 21st birthday parties happened before any of us reached that age of keys and adult responsibility.

    The one rule was to drink a lager as they poured the spillings of the trays into the Guinness and Smithwicks, or at least so the story went. The place had a massive selection of drinks: Guinness, Smithwicks and Harp on tap, with bottles of Bulmers in the fridge, and smaller bottles of Babycham and White River for the ladies. Of course vodkas and gins were there, but they were for the stuck up snooties from Naas, not real people like us! And don’t be late for the bus back as he made you pay up front, and he did not wait. The amount of empty seats on the way back each time was fun, though a few were filled by ‘guests’ of both sexes who wanted to see our exotic town for themselves.

    The monthly bus to Kinegad where everyone came from all around meant the girls were better looking (or at least not so familiar with your childish nature) and guaranteed at least one fight, and probably blood on a sleeve While I was never the instigator, I was known to be a first aider, and so administering to the wounds of our glorious fallen, and occasionally gory victorious, was a regular occurrence on the way home.

    And then to sneak into the house when we got back home. I come from a large family, and my dad came up with a simple system to know if you were the one to lock the door. One deadbolt could only be locked by a spiky key from the inside. To this key he attached a list of who was out, and as you came in you crossed out your own name. Last one in locked up. Being the engineer he was, my dad made a small laminated (or plasticated as we called it then) list, and used a erasable marker for the crossing out, with a hole for the key to go through.

    These were the days when I learned that if you try to be quiet, especially when drunk, you make so much noise you wake the dead! So you tried to saunter in calmly, relying on muscle memory and the spidey sense you got from that last pint you hoofed down to walk down the hall, turn left through the arch opposite your parents room and, if you got it right, lifted your foot to the first step of the stair at the seventh pace in.

    If you made it, you were home and dry, and bed awaited. If not, you went down on your kisser and ended up with an imprint of Newbridge Carpets’ best Tintawn pattern on your face to try to explain to your father the next morning. Together with the blood on the sleeve, the evidence of fighting was irrefutable.

    I have no memory of a hangover the next day, but to be fair, I have no memory of most of those ‘next days’

    1. Janet, dreams of big guns

      brilliant,
      my poor auld Da, I would call him up at work, he worked nights and say I needed a lift home, I rarely have great directions, he would drive around Dublin with his work radio on until he found me, get me past my Mum with a ” she has a bad burger” and go back to work, he even let me get sick in his hat once, he dropped a boyfriend off to emergency on an occasion” who had walked into a wall ” he never gave out , the man’s a walking saint

      1. Slightly Bemused

        Sounds like a man to have a pint with sometime. I am sure he has stories to tell if he was working nights in Dublin :-)

    2. Johnny

      +1 i really enjoy your writing and turn off phrase,my mother used scatter my younger sister toys about before she went upstairs if i wasn’t home,getting through that sober would have been ‘amazing race’ stuff.

      1. Slightly Bemused

        I am glad you are enjoying them.
        I am also glad my parents never thought of the toy obstacle course, or I would definitely have fallen at the first My Little Pony!

        1. Johnny

          i look forward to them and especially your writing in Fridays song competition,the restored tape deck made my day,in fairness my mother was a kind hearted loving mum,all she wanted was to know i was home safe,not with whom:)

    3. GiggidyGoo

      Nijinskis on the Curragh? I was in it a few times. Long time ago mind you. Too long.
      Used to go out after a hard weeks work, have a few scoops in Kildare, then on to the Talk Of The Town (is that place still there) for a meal and a couple of bottles of Matheus Rose (shudder the thought), but more often than not used to end up in a pub the other end of Newbridge on the left which was always buzzing.
      The downside was that when closing time came, there wasn’t much drinking up time, because the owner used to turn up his in-house PA system, point a microphone at a speaker, and let the feedback whistle until the place was cleared. Might head out to the Curragh then.

      1. Slightly Bemused

        The very place! It seemed so exotic to younger me.

        I am not familiar with Kildare town pubs, but it wounds like you are talking about Flanagans in Newbridge (pub just before the bridge?). Still there, still buzzes and does great live music a couple of days a week, but sadly currently closed.

        Just to add all the pubs in Newbridge try to get you out fast. The Guards are not forgiving.

        1. GiggidyGoo

          Yep. It was near the bridge. I think it was two brothers who owned it (could be wrong).
          Kildare Town was usually the Silken Thomas – it was a flanagan who owned that too.

  4. Janet, dreams of big guns

    I would like to be able to share a memory of a night in the pod but it’s not really for public consumption

    1. Slightly Bemused

      I hope it is a good and enjoyable memory. If so, definitely keep it for yourself, and bring it out every-so-often to warm the cockles of your heart.

  5. MacGafraidh

    All my memories in Pod were crazy, honestly, it was an amazing place. I used to work for a really large mobile phone company, let’s call them fodavone, no wait too easy, doblafone.. We had a corporate gig there hosted by one of the brands we sold, let’s call them Nokio.. and they brought in ‘Example’.. At a time when I thought his music was ‘deadly’. Gig was great. Afterwards we’re at the bar having drinks and who is off to the side of the bar only Mr. Example himself talking to two women. After a minute or two of gentle persuasion and an unavoidable double dare from my mates, I strolled over.. Drink in hand, eyes locked on Mr. Example, and as I approached his little circle I got this surge of confidence with my mates about 10 feet back behind me.
    Me: “Example, sorry to interrupt but it’s not often you get to meet….”
    Example: “can’t you see I’m talking to these girls for fucks sake.. Some people have no sense..”

    Example walks away with the girls.

    Can’t believe I got to meet my hero.. And at Pod True Story. So I deserve the prize here. On an alternative note, David DeValera used to play at pod and he had the place absolutely heaving.. Crazy night out guaranteed every week. Loved it

  6. Bri Nylon

    I was in the Pod one Saturday night. This woman came over and said she loved my hair, and that I had a lovely face with beautiful skin.
    We got married two years later. Still together!

  7. Andy Pipkin

    Date: May 10th 1995
    Venue : Ormond Multimedia Centre
    Band : Fugazi

    Back then the venue was better know for live gigs, not DJ’s and yokes!!!
    Fugazi came to Dublin too play and it was a hot but cracking show!!!

    Near the end of the gig there was a bit of a commotion coming from the crowd at the back, suddenly the house lights started too come on, nobody including the band had any idea what was going on.
    Then I could see the Gardaí coming through the crowd, one big country garda shouting “ just get the punka (his words) rockers!”
    Scuffles broke out before we knew it the filth was letting off tear gas!!

    I never found out what the real reason way this happened, but most believed it was because the band had overrun their curfew!!

    Good times though !!!!

  8. Matt Pilates

    WTF is this? Are you people soft or what?

    THE place was Anarchy Night Café in Fibber Magee’s with the Chumbawamba and My Bloody Valentine 12 inches. Those south side namby-pamby drawing-rooms were like Louis Balfour’s Jazz Club.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TebUMhJAKSM.

    I was in Fibbers one night when the cops’ Black Maria arrived to lift a few shapes and the gardaí started bopping along to Primal Scream’s Loaded instead.

  9. Clampers Outside

    A spliff with a guard lol!

    I was up in The Point at some gig and popped out for a doobie only to meet an old school friend.

    Lovely.

    We chatted very briefly as I pulled out me doob, lit it, took a long drag and held out my hand…

    “toot?” says I.

    “I joined the guards…

    I’m in DS…

    …. undercover” says he.

    “Oh, emmm”….says I.

    *awkward silence*

    “Mind yourself” says he…

    “You too” says I…

    And we parted ways… :)

    1. Clampers Outside

      That first line was meant as a response to Cu Chulain up top of the comments :)

  10. SOQ

    I wouldn’t say the maddest night by any means but definitely the strangest one, at HAM@POD. HAM was a weekly Friday gay ‘hands in the air’ which had an international reputation- people used to fly in- imagine that now?

    One week, for some unknown reason, gay met sr8 – oil and water. They decided to mix it with another club which I think was running some other night. It was billed as a clash of the DJ’s but two very different crowds. Fags and hags one side- Dublin boys clinging to their girlfriends on the other because- they were not gay- obvs.

    The HAM crew ended up on one side of the dancefloor and the “strangers” on the other and as the DJ’s played half a dozen tracks each- the near entire dance floor shifted. I don’t think it was deliberate- the gay crew danced to the music and the srt8 crew danced for the DJ.

    Personally, maddest for me was Belfast after the first ceasefire. 5 clubbing in London and 5 clubbing in Dublin but nothing compares to Belfast city when it was let out the zoo.

    Even on a Thursday night, people were hanging off the rafters- literally.

    1. scundered

      Belfast had some nuts places, the Network with the RA dealing pills at one end and the UVF at the other end, I never felt safe in any of the places, full of scangers mostly but enjoyed the art college

      1. SOQ

        The Parliament was my place- later became Mynt. Probably the only gay venue in western Europe where the late license was pulled because the police evidenced that ambulances were called at least twice a night.

        Is that a gun in your pocket or are you… about a 25/75 chance.

  11. scottser

    All those clubs were for posers. I misspent my youth at firehouse skank at the Parnell Mooney basement. 2 quid in. me self and the lads had been picking mushrooms in wicklow and came back with loads, so Halloween night we went round the skank dropping a few to whoever wanted some and we basically dosed the whole room. An hour later the place was absolutely heaving and stayed heaving till closing. I’ve never been able to get a room toasted before or since, great craic.

  12. fluffybiscuits

    I’d kill literally to have one sweaty night , shirt half hanging open dancing in the George. Infrequently (once every two or three months!) I’d run up the steps after paying the tenner in. Foot tapping in line impatiently wanting to give my jacket in, rush to the bar and get a double Jameson and coke packed with ice. Lean nervously against the bar watching the bears sweaty dripping on the flooor, shirt soaked from dancing , slurring into ears of passers by sh1te chat up lines practically with no meaning. “Are you a man eating shark as I have swimmers you can swallow (thanks to a friend for that” or the silly ice breaker guaranteed a laugh about the chicken and crocodile (that resulted in a phone number one night as I fupped up the joke but the fella thought it was cute as I was mashed outta me box)

    The smoking area of the George happens to be like El Dorado. Hidden treasures of conversation, a person just needs to seek them out. (I do recall talking to a bunch of lesbians who were lovely and my companion who was a tad gormless remarked if they had a ‘liquor license’ and ensuing was much insults, not from me mind). Into the smoking area, the men are less inhibited, rivers of conversations running wild , numbers exchagned,lips crashing and hands down backs and shorts, the sexually charged atmosphere of a warm summers evening.

    The dance floor brimming at full tilt with all n sundry. Take me back 15 years and I would be bumpiung the twinks off stage as Im an arsehole, now Im making sure they dont get bumped off the stage! Eurasure comes on or a remix of Ce Ce Peniston or a generic electronic hit or yer wan Carmen Cabellero and suddenly every c*nt and their mother like me thinks they are Justin Timberlake. Slut dropping against the pole, arse crack swallowing up a mid section infesting it with arse bacteria swiping it in little rubs. Fingers of mine slip into belt loops of jeans pulling big hairy lads in for a kiss (they would have expressed an interest!). Dark dance floor surrounded by neon lights press upon us where we are.

    Sliding through the little door into Jurassic, sucking my flabby belly in I’d go to the little bar at the front (aka Bridies). Home from home for a lot of us. Don on the door would always say hi. Cocooned in the bar was an older crowd who deserved respect and got it, these are the me, trans and women of our generation who befriended us , giving us direction when we lacked it most and saddled up to the lone guys with no agenda but to make them feel less alone and warm emotionally as the gay world is a terribly lonely place. The Samaratins in their ad campaign delivered it when they said you can be surrounded by people and feel the loneliest. My mother and me drink in here if we go to the gay bars. Flinging her out like bait to reel in fish she covers more ground for me! Then standing outside to vainly attempt pick up as I stagger about, hoping that one last snog would be mine before I hop in a taxi

    Saturdays have that special place for me. At this point I would be planning who was coming up, what take away we was getting and the Offo would be assaulted with a few of us getting cans and spirits to ensue a sweaty night that may end up with us home at 1.30am kebab in hand or stride of pride at 10am searching under a musty bed cover in a strangers home for our boxers.

    1. Slightly Bemused

      Brought a friend to The George once. He had not fully come out, but was, and is, one of the very best friends I have ever had.
      He still lived in our then very parochial village, and I had moved to the Big Smoke. He asked me, so I brought him there. He was going to stay over in my one-room bedsit in Rathmines (he lived with his unaware mother in our home town) and this was a chance for him to see what was possible.
      It is important to state that he did not, does not and never did drink – unless you count brandy butter at Christmas. So pubs were a little bit of a strange country to him.
      He arrived at my place a little after 6 on a Friday night. I was barely home from work, and had yet to eat or shower. Down the road was a great Chinese takeaway, so I asked what he wanted, and invited him to use the facilities as I went down to pick up our order (mobile phones in those days weighed about a kilo and cost a fortune to own)..
      I came back to a room redolent of scents I could not recognise, and which seemed to be having open warfare across the available olfactory organs for dominance. He mentioned Cedar Wood…. I say no more (largely because I know no more).
      We ate, and I went in and sluiced water over me. I may have used Insignia – not sure of the time frame – but it was no attempt at seduction came out of that shower.
      Along we went, and I asked him as we walked there what he drank. The better to order casually, rather than give him a conundrum to solve. I was not much help, being a Carlsberg man at the time, and he not being a patron of many public houses. In the end we settled on Britvik with ice, maybe with sparkling water for extra oomph!
      So we entered, and went to the bar. Ordered our drinks. Chose a place to sit. He wanted to watch people first, gauge the place, work stuff out. At some point I needed to use the facilities, and left him alone. When I came back, no sign of him. I said fine, sat and wondered if I should finish the unattended drink I had left.
      Having decided no, I went to the bar and ordered a new one. While waiting, I had my butt pinched and slapped, and a very jovial biker dude slipped in beside me. We enjoyed a chat, which included the important gentle let down [the ‘No, I am not available’] which surprised me as being so like the same with ladies who might interest me. He took it in good stead, and moved on. After all, it was early of a Friday.
      I never looked for my friend, but he turned up happily shortly before closing time. His only regret? I only had a bedsit and he could not invite someone back. I did appreciate that of him, but he could have asked. Let us just say I had other options 
      Have had a soft spot for the George ever since. Only place I got my butt pinched and slapped 

  13. Praetorian.

    All after my time…i was a ‘Rumours’ boy…and The Harp,The Apartments,Bubbles….Sachs on a very rare occassion….differant times…good times,safe times.
    Great memories….

    1. Cú Chulainn

      Sadly a sight all too common.. often accompanied by hard slaps. That’s what we saw in public. Can only imagine how much worse it was at home. I won’t listen to any of his music anymore.

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