Ah, the difference a day makes. Or a few months, for that matter.
I love differences. Ever since a fateful college course where I found myself shackled with the teachings of Deconstruction, I've slowly realized that I was set free. Set free to see the world in a different light. And lay waste to anything I see.
So I gave myself a few months before I went back to eleven50 — the converted theater/art gallery/discotheque that marks one end of the Crescent Avevue/12th Street Midtown nightlife district. I wanted to see the differences since their opening. And, as fate would have it, I ended up there both Friday and Saturday night, so I got to see even more different scenes.
I'll tell you, though, the only real problems with Deconstruction is that, one, you suddenly spout pretentious French words to try to get your point across, therefore confusing anyone and everyone even further, and two, you realize that the purpose served by differance (with pretentious French a) — to illustrate how differing patterns help make us more, not less, aware of important relationships — is of greater value than the frustration that any of the patterns may cause.
So while I myself have become even more removed from the desire to sweat in a crowd, it's good to see so many others who have not. From Friday — hanging out in the VIP nest for a friend's birthday — to Saturday — hanging out in the courtyard during international "superstar" DJ John Digweed's set — the boys went from wearing their best shirts to stripping down to their best white undershirts and the girls went from wearing their best high heels to wearing their best ... high heels.
Eleven50 is doing a good job of attempting to provide diverse DJ talent — from Friday night's Chicago house by E-Smooth to Saturday's Transatlantic trance — but, man, I don't see how girls can dance in 5-inch-high footwear. Actually, the room was so packed I don't see how anyone could dance, but there they were with (rare in Atlanta) hands-in-the-air enthusiasm.
Eleven50 is a good venue for bigger name DJs traditionally ghettoized in the rave scene. When a show sells out there — unlike at some huge arena — there's no room left for sitting on the floor and getting in the way. And, unless a lot of ravers have bought respectable clothes (which I doubt), eleven50 is bringing out more of a different crowd than traditionally patronizes rave-type parties. Not personally knowing these Atlantans in animal prints, I'm not going to say a more sophisticated crowd — but at least I didn't get hit in the head with a glowstick on a string.
Yes, more than I've seen recently, there was more of an enthusiastic air than an air of pretension as Liquid Groove's infamous wall of reinforced sound engulfed intimate eleven50. At least if you compare the eleven50 event to another, less formal, setting. Surely, someone will complain of the lack of community, but that's what so great about nightlife: watching strangers from the shadows as they either puff out feathers or attempt to hide in plain sight. It's a different culture from Day-Glo hugz, and there's a place and time for both.
So, thankfully, all the negative, annoying adolescent aspects of weekend clubbing were left behind, at least from what I could see. I love it when people can make a differance.