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 glory days of running complimentary: Clubbing in the 90s
My Singapore Life is a CNA Lifestyle series about coming of age in the Lion Metropolis. This week, go clubbing at Jiak Kim Street and meet its tribe of beautiful people.
Zouk was a weekend oasis for many clubbers in the 90s. (Fine 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 fashion in the kitchen, where I was badly trying to fix myself a 2nd cup of instant java.
I muttered a string of succinct swear words as I walked towards the door, rubbing the tiredness from my eyes. Who the hell could exist hither at seven in the morning?
Heed: My Singapore Life: The magic of Zouk and the glory days of running gratuitous, read by Lim Yu-Beng
My female parent was out at work, and my older brother Balan was out cold – with The Futurity Sound Of London album playing in the background.
The magic of Zouk and the celebrity days of running free
I opened the door to find Selvam, my neighbour buddy who looked like Jimi Hendrix only slayed it on the dance flooring. He had a cigarette burning in his trembling right hand and a can of beer in his left.
"I can't find my business firm key. Can I bunk in for a fleck?"
"Sure," I replied, letting him in and mildly surprised that my morning was picking up correct where we ended the night but a few hours ago.
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Selvam and I had just gotten domicile from an amazing nighttime at Zouk, where my friends and I spent most 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 get-go omnibus at 5.30am.
I was immature, very broke and just well-nigh to complete my National Service. But all was good in the universe considering we had witnessed "The Wizard," aka Jeff Mills, Detroit'south legendary DJ and record producer, playing his very first Singapore set 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 information technology was, with three turntables and a 909 drum auto.
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Selvam stumbled his mode to the living room. "I bet I dropped my keys on the dance floor or at the omnibus finish. Or I swallowed it!" he yelled, throwing himself onto my rattan couch. "I can't get into my flat, Ramesh! And I have to be at work at 2pm!"
"Merely what the hell," he said, a smile breaking on his face. "It'south worth it for Jeff Mills, lah,"
Zouk was our weekend haven.
I am very lucky to have grown up in a dwelling filled with music. My parents had a decent tape collection consisting of disco, rock 'n' roll and Indian film soundtracks.
Dancing and singing were second nature in our household, where there was seldom a tranquility moment.
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My brother picked upwards DJing while in secondary schoolhouse and added a huge drove of music to our stash, ranging from Depeche Mode and Sade to Public Enemy and Rage Against The Machine.
He soon showed me the ropes to DJing and introduced me to various sub-genres of music. I caught my outset live punk prove 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 artistic. And we all had one thing in common.
Zouk was our weekend haven.
Entering its traditional warehouse space in Jiak Kim Street often felt similar walking into a tripped out Peter Greenaway film set up. Its intimate, intricately illustrated Balearic design was like some sort of iii-dimensional assemblage that took its cues from installation fine art.
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The 90s was an exciting time for Zouk and electronic music. We were exposed to everything from bands like Kevin Saunderson'southward Inner Metropolis busting out the dance floor classic Good Life on a live PA, to an enchanting performance of Bjork's complex sonic-collage concert – two nights in a row.
As a part-time hustle, I started DJing effectually bars and smaller clubs. My appetite for electronic music grew, and Zouk was the venue – or sanctuary, I should say – that fed me.
And it wasn't just the music. The real magic came from the cast of characters that created the vibe. The people that made the tribe.
Zouk teemed with positive free energy – people smiling, laughing, dancing, hugging, kissing.
The infamous bespectacled dancing doc taking eye stage on the podium, Maniam's rhythms on the tablas, Najip's fluid dance moves – all reflecting the diverse connection of people from all corners of Singapore.
Zouk teemed with positive free energy – people smile, laughing, dancing, hugging, kissing.
It was cute.
Selvam leaned over to flip the record playing in my living room. Information technology was the B-side of Cream'southward Disraeli Gears, which has been his staple downtime album for all the years I have known him.
"Okay 1 last song and I have to go, man. I really wish I could call in ill!" he snarled. "So side by side Friday, I got a plan, blood brother. Remember that girl 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, man. Sounds cool correct? It'south by Zai Kuning. Then the usual lah, we caput to Zouk after the show. What do you call up?" he asked.
Of course, there were nights when some of u.s. didn't even go far to the entrance of Zouk.
This is what Selvam meant past "the usual": Every week, we'd circular up the residual of the gang to run into at Zion Road market by 10pm, with a canteen of Dewars (yes, Dewars, the roughest of the lot) and the cheapest vodka we could afford, and catch upwards over a nice large meal courtesy of the killer bak chor noodle articulation.
Then the dancefloor at Zouk by midnight to burn those calories.
Of course, there were nights when some of us didn't even brand it to the entrance of Zouk. The residual of gang would have turns doing nanny duty as the drunk ones slept it off by the Zion Route motorbus stop. Those were wild times, and we felt… gratuitous.
Next calendar week's plans sorted, we hugged and Selvam left my house in his endeavor to have a productive 24-hour interval at piece of work.
I closed the door and chuckled. Friday was going to be epic.
Ramesh Krishnan somewhen became a invitee DJ for Zouk. He's currently a DJ, sound designer, curator, and founder of Tropika, an initiative centred on global music, art and social justice themes.New episodes of My Singapore Life are published every Lord's day at cna.asia/podcasts.
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