Redeye - Redeye Smokin’ Craic Rock March 23 2005

In Irish Gaelic, the word “craic” (pronounced “crack”) means “good fun.” And Thurs., March 17, commonly known as St. Patrick’s Day, that’s what people were looking for. And while the good fun and craic are often one and the same, they don’t necessarily have to share a meaning.Imagine yourself, say, at Decatur’s Brick Store Pub (doing research for a roundup on Belgian beer, I might add, found in this issue’s Liquid Diet). Everybody is ordering a drink, and while near the bar you hear someone ask for “something with warmth and craic” in their most holiday-appropriate brogue. I couldn’t stifle a little giggle. Guinness in my own hand, I started thinking about why many people out on St. Patrick’s Day shoot whiskey and swill green beer. They’re holding onto hope they might end the night not green from booze, but rather pinching the right ass and getting some warmth and crack. So to those who succeeded in taking possession of whatever type of crack/craic they crave, I raise my glass and say, slainte.

Watch Me Babble On Depending on whom you ask, Babylon is regarded as either one of the most resplendent cities of the ancient world (or so reports wikipedia.org), or it’s a new “ultralounge” in Buckhead that I visited Sat., March 19, and found to be full of hot Asian girls (or so observed my libido). But before I get sidetracked by the Asian allure, first let’s describe the decor:

Babylon occupies the space that was once Fuel. Entering on Bolling Way was oddly appropriate, because once you descend some stairs, you step into the common/dancefloor area, a shotgun with kind of a cosmic bowling vibe to it from all the slick black lacquer-paneling and slowly sweeping trackspots. Along the wall, flat-screen video monitors play psychedelic loops of the morphing Babylon logo. Since little furniture had been installed as of my visit, the centerpiece is the bar, with its backlit “floating bottle” wall featuring Bacardi products tacked by clear plastic pinning.

And at the far, Peachtree Street end of Babylon’s bottom floor sits the semi-circular DJ booth, being lorded over this night by Lil’ Steven, who realized a hi_NRG remix of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” just wasn’t snatching the crowd, so he switched to the Buckhead fail-safe of commercial hip-hop. Funny this, as Steven’s night at the Living Room, just next door, was briskly snatched away a couple weeks ago for more nights of corporate crunk. Who’s to say what this bodes for the overall music direction, as Steven holds down Saturdays while J-Luv and Kevin O. will be selecting the chuggin’ choons on Thursdays (DJ Ruckus is actually scheduled to play hip-hop - as well as rock and house - on Fridays).

Upstairs, Babylon features another floating wall - this one of Pierre Jouet Fleur de Champagne - and offers the increasingly ubiquitous plunk-down-for-a-bottle-if-you-want-to-plant-your-booty roped-off booth system. And, of course, there’s a separate VIP room past that. Still to be installed is the rear-projection system that’s planned to make Peachtree Street like Times Square.

So will Babylon end up remembered as the next Level3, just minus a level, or live a fabled life such as that, say, of a Lava Lounge? Only time will tell.

Breaking From Convention Buckhead is totally freaky to me, so after having been there an hour, I had to go somewhere a little less weird. So, obviously, I went to a fetish convention. Final Fantasm took place March 17-20 at the Holiday Inn near Turner Field, and the Dark Lord knows I couldn’t pass up one last chance to see gratuitous nudity and an around-the-clock perv play-party. On Thursday, I actually DJ’d a late-’80s prom-themed event at the hotel, living out my lifelong ambition of making goths dance to Debbie Gibson, Belinda Carlisle, Whitesnake and Sir Mix-A-Lot. But it was Saturday that really brought out the whips and beached the whales, as a friend liked to describe the plumpers in bulging corsets and fishnets. Theme parties took over the ground floor, with names like “Infirmary.” Except every few steps I’d see something that, for me, took the “firm” part out. Somewhere between Cosplay (costume play) and LARPing (live action role playing) is the plus-size phantasm we call RALFing (ridiculous ass latex freaks). But in a way it’s a shame Fantasm has to go. (The kinkfest is in its seventh and last year.) Chubbies deserve sportin’ chubbies, too.

Keep oneRedEye open. And send all comments, questions, observations and invitations to redeye@creativeloafing.com.

They might pinch the right ass and get some warmth and crack.