Event Review: The Rod at Deco

There aren't many parties that lead to the boyfriend and I having a passionate debate about the meaning of parties and the scene, but that's exactly what happened Friday night at The Rod at Deco: while everybody else was in the front room cheering on the wet jockstrap contest, there we were in the back room by the pool table, throwing around words like Gesamtkunstwerk and pondering the necessity of gay men connecting with their own history in a way that, while troublesome in its nostalgic aspects, also gives them a sense of their possibility in the present. On the boyfriend's side he thought I needed to lighten up a bit, since the evidence was all around us that people were there having a good time and connecting with something, and I had to concede that, at times, my contrarian nature, suspicious as it is of all things popular and fun in the tradition of Theodor Adorno, clouds my critical perspective. On the other hand, my position remains that the party scene is about creating culture, and if we are going to take a critical perspective upon it, it can't be from the perspective of whether or not people are simply having a good time - after all, people have great times at circuit parties, which are the target of numerous dismissive comments within the "alternative" gay community - but it must be from the perspective of the kind of culture that is being created and the meaning of that for those participating in it. And from that perspective I continue to have issues with the culture being created by The Rod, because, to me, it feels like a step backwards in the evolution of San Francisco's gay culture.

The Short Version of the Review - Is It Fun?

I am perfectly willing to accept that this point about the place of The Rod in San Francisco's gay culture probably doesn't really matter to anybody else but me, so here I'll give you the the standard nightlife magazine review of The Rod and you can continue on with the rest of your online reading without further ado. The Rod, on the 2nd Friday of the month at Deco Lounge, is among San Francisco's longest-running gay nights, having celebrated its 3rd Anniversary this past Friday. DJ Bus Station John, who has advanced leagues as a DJ since I first heard him spin a couple years ago at Aunt Charlie's place, where he continues with his very popular Tubesteak Connection, has one of the best collections of rare-groove disco, Hi-NRG, and original New York electro ever assembled. If you closed your eyes during one of his sets you could easily imagine yourself back in a San Francisco disco or bathhouse circa 1979, and if you opened your eyes the photocopies and projections of vintage porn, featuring pre-steroid swollen guys with feathered hair (many of whom look exactly like the guys who gave me boners when I was in high school) might convince you that you are really there. The Rod is an almost perfect emulation of a particular moment in gay history, and if the attendees were sporting more polyester and facial hair you might think that the door to Deco was really a time portal.

That The Rod has been going on for three years should be enough testament to its popularity, and on any given Friday night you can rest assured of a sizable crowd of guys and a few girls as well. Since it's a Tenderloin bar the crowd is definitely scruffier and more alternative than you would find at any given Castro bar, and I suspect that many of the guys competing for the $100 prize in the wet jockstrap contest might otherwise be trying to get that sum by walking the beat of Polk Street. To my eye the crowd skews a bit older, since the music attracts many guys who probably heard it when the grooves were fresh off the cutting press, but I also saw a few twenty-somethings of my acquaintance. Though I've usually seen a few guys boogieing in front of the DJ stand, The Rod doesn't really come across as a big dance party, but more of a mingling scene, and the music provides a great background for the naughtiness that people get up to later. We noticed that, after the patio closed and the wet jockstrap contest began the crowd seemed thinner, or perhaps just more concentrated in two rooms, one where they were watching the contest, and another where they were carrying through on the instincts it aroused. All in all, if you are looking for a laid-back, sexy (for a late-70s value of sexy) night out with a crowd that isn't too precious or grotesquely buffed, and your main goal is some sleazy fun, then The Rod is a great choice.

I Come Not to Bury Bus Station John, But to Praise Him

And what, you might ask, is wrong with a party simply being a good time? In the present moment of the event itself, nothing - people come and have a good time, connect with each other, and maybe leave with a feeling of satisfaction in whatever form they were seeking. But the success of The Rod is also, in my mind, what opens it up to a higher level of examination. I admire Bus Station John for having created a total aesthetic, for the way he combines sound and visuals to bring forth a vibe that others connect with. Despite the boyfriend's protestations that this is a pretentious way to put it, I think Bus Station John has created a work of art that is distinctive in the San Francisco gay scene, and that The Rod is an example of someone really creating culture. And this is where I believe that the critical perspective comes into play, where its legitimate to ask, what kind of culture is being created, what ideas are being put forth in this creation? As I pointed out before, many of my friends and acquaintances have no problems with negative criticism of the culture being created by other promoters, such as Gus Presents, when that culture is not part of their own aesthetic, when the ideas they see being put forth are in contrast to their own. Things get trickier when the object of critical perspective is within one's own cultural milieu. I will admit that in my previous review of The Rod, I was bitchier than I needed to be, since I thought that tone was necessary to make my voice be heard. But since then I have softened my stance a little bit - I have heard disco played under circumstances when it felt right and was enjoyable, and I have absolutely nothing against the man himself; though I don't know him personally, many other folks of my acquaintance do, and by all accounts he is a really great guy who's heart in the right place. In fact, I am quite sympathetic to the intention that I think is behind Bus Station John's nights, I just disagree with the way he is materializing that intention. I hope that a greater degree of respect for that intention is evident in this review; if I did not feel some respect for the ideas that someone was putting forth, believe me, I would not be spending my Saturday afternoon in front of this laptop, hoping that my perspective might, in some way, help further those ideas.

Disco of the Past, Disco of the Present

My main issue with The Rod is its nostalgic foundations. In an interview with the Bay Guardian, in which he was asked about his take on the current gay club scene, Bus Station John said " . . . I've retreated to the past, where I dwell happily with my pre-AIDS, pre-crack, pre-MTV, pre-PNP vinyl collection. Greetings from 1981! Visitors are welcome." Given the rather bland state of the gay club scene over the past few years, with its endless rotation of the same DJs playing the same music to the same crowd of guys over and over gain, I can't blame Bus Station John for wanting to recreate the vibe of an earlier time, when the scene was more about joy and sex and fun than meth and money (though it seems contradictory to be anti-PNP and have a giant cut-out of a bottle of poppers in the front window of the club). And I can even understand wanting to return to music that has, at its core, genuine warmth and emotion after listening to the hours of anthem tribal dreck that is spun at most circuit events. But, even with the best of intentions behind it, this approach is essentially reactionary and regressive, and says that the best solution to the "ennervating" (to use Bus Station John's term) state of current gay club culture is to retreat to the past.

I can't deny that there is a legitimate place for disco in current gay club culture, and I've found myself increasingly drawn to music from contemporary producers like Justus Koehnecke, Prinz Thomas, and Lindstrom that updates the disco sound with modern production. There is a looseness in its composition and upbeat hipness in its sonic palette that can't help but bring a twitch to my hips and a smile to my face. And, thanks to the recent Mineshaft party from Honey Sound System, as well as Bus Station John's set at the recent Paradise All-Night Disco Extravaganza, I've found a way to connect with it in the club experience. I think that, periodically, the gay club scene needs to re-connect with its roots as a means of rediscovering its values, and in this regard I have no problem with the occasional disco party (as long as nobody plays Donna Summer or Gloria Gaynor, that is). My problem is when the disco party is seen as the height of gay club culture, carrying with it the statement that there is nothing of value at all to be found in contemporary culture, when this plainly isn't so. I also worry that, in the context of creating culture, disco nostalgia keeps us from participating in the creation of a new cultural identity for ourselves. This is what I like most about parties like Lucky Pierre and those coming from the Honey Sound System; they are in touch with the past and recognize its importance, but are also actively engaged in using contemporary msuic and culture to create a new sense of gay identity. In fact, from things I see going on right now, I think 2008 might very well be a banner year for the San Francisco gay scene, one in which many groups come together to once again create a sense of excitment and joy about being a San Francisco queer. Looking back to the past will never really get us to that point, because once you step beyond the door of the time portal, your're right back where you started from.

Say No to Nostalgia, Say Yes Creating the New World

Nostalgia is a powerful impulse, and after the eight years of shit we've all lived through, it's no wonder that so many people, gay and straight, are looking back to the past, when things seemed easier, more fun, and certainly less dire (just think about all the 80s, disco, and "return to . . ." parties that have gone down over the past year). But, ultimately, what we have to deal with is the here and now, and nothing from the past will really solve our present problems. Looking back to the past may give us ideas about how to deal with the present, but it's up to us to put those ideas in a contemporary context. 1970s era disco might help us connect with a set of values, but that doesn't mean we need to precisely emulate that era, it means we need to create the disco of the 2000s. The Rod is a great place to go on every second Friday to have fun and reflect on the original disco era, but the moment you start thinking "yeah, it was all so really great back then, I wish we could go back" is the moment that you enter into bad faith with the present. Rather, you should be thinking "yeah, how do we bring this into the now, how do we create this feeling with contemporary music, images, fashion, and people?" Formulating the answers to that question should be the main task of the San Francisco gay scene over the next year, because when the elections happen in November, we need to be ready to make our contribution to the change that will ensue.

Event Review: The Rod at Deco

There aren't many times when I dread writing a review, but this is certainly one of them, because I'm about to say bad things about what has become an institution among San Francisco alternaqueers, or at least those who like to imagine themselves as such. There is no doubt that The Rod is one of the single most popular nights for gay men in San Francisco, and DJ Bus Station John has achieved underground celebrity status for his attempt to provide some tonic to the world of circuit parties and gym clones. I certainly applaud him for making this attempt, I only wish that he had found some other solution than situating us once again in the ghetto of 70s gay disco.

Loyal readers should have some sense of my priorities when going out and looking for a good night; comfortable space, fun crowd, danceable music, clean sound, skilled DJs. What I don't look for is that an event is necessarily gay; honestly, that's one of the least important things to me, because when I go out, I go out to dance and be with my boyfriend, rather than to hook up. Hooking up, however, is what gay nights generally tend to be about, so when I got an event like the Rod, I'm already way out of synch with the night's intentions. It's difficult, then, for me feel what my relationship to the night should be, and to what standard I should adhere when writing a review.

Deco is absolutely one of my favorite club spaces in San Francisco; with three levels, an outdoor patio, super-friendly bartenders, and an all-around great vibe, it feels to me more like a clubhouse than an actual club. The decor is very retro, with curvy disco moldings, mirrors, and neon. When you step through the door for The Rod, the combination of this decor, the retro 70s and 80s rare disco B-sides, and the vintage 70s porn that serves as The Rod's calling card makes it feel like you have stepped back into pre-AIDS San Francisco. And this is precisely why I hate it, despite the fun everyone I know has there, despite Bus Station John's good intentions, and despite my own desire to be stop being such a critic and just enjoy it.

For me, The Rod represents Bus Stations John's fetishization of pre-AIDS gay life, and, to me, makes the statement that there is nothing that follows after it that can have any meaning for gay men. It says to me that the best time to have been a gay man was in the past, and that the best thing we can create for ourselves now is a simulacrum of the past. Having come from Lights Down Low a block away, where I saw young queer guys involved with straight kids and others in making new culture for everyone, The Rod seemed like stepping into the living room of an old gay auntie who hadn't gone out in thirty years and wanted to show me pictures of "the good times."

As loyal readers know, I really don't like disco. It's thus hard for me to objective about the music that Bus Station John plays, or even the way he plays it. I wouldn't really call him a DJ, and, to his credit, he has said as much in interviews. More accurately, he is a guy with a really amazing record collection, and a couple times a month he plays it for people. I watched him play records for a while on Friday night, and he does clearly know his music and enjoy it, but don't expect anything beyond moving the fader from one channel to another; he doesn't even use headphones to listen to the track he's about to cue up. This is fine if all you are about is playing records, but I like a little more excitement and performance from a DJ.

I can't say that there was really much of a dancefloor - the lounge room where BSJ was spinning was packed, but it was more of a mingling floor; here and there you could find pockets of people getting down, and some general head-bobbing, but nobody seemed to really be there to dance. This is somewhat consistent for what is essentially a pick-up scene; as long as the music isn't too obnoxious, as long as it doesn't break the mood, it doesn't really matter what you play. In this case retro disco is just enough stimulus to raise the energy of the room, but not enough to distract from flirting and conversation. It's also quite comfortable and unchallenging, not unlike the shawl you might put on to keep yourself warm while looking at those old photos.

My worst experience of the evening was getting into an argument with a friend of ine who is also a friend of BSJ, about my opinion of the night. He is a genuine alternaqueer sort who is looking for something other than the standard run of Gus Presents and Castro bars, and I am totally in agreement with him on that. For him Deco represents a space that is welcoming to other sensibilities, and where you don't have to be an overbuffed steroid queen to get attention. And in those respects, he's completely right. My argument was that, if we want to create alternatives to mainstream gay club culture, why do we have to look back to the past rather than creating something for ourselves out of our present situation? It was at this point I realized how much the likes of Gus Presents and similar events have poisoned young gay guys against what they think of as "techno," which, generally, means terrible tribal house. For them "techno" music is synonomous with all that they find oppressive about mainstream gay culture, though I also think there is an element of willful ignorance at work here, since most of them couldn't tell you the difference between techno, trance, and house even while listening to it. I also think the return to classic disco demonstrates that, to be a successful gay club night, it's much easier to go with the comfortable and familiar than to take a chance with the unknown and potentially challenging. This is what I think ultimately accounts for the wild popularity of The Rod; you are guaranteed that it will be the least challenging thing you, as a gay man, can do on a Friday evening. If you are looking for a night of the comfortable and familiar, and maybe a desperate hook-up at 3AM, then by all means, go for it. As for me, I'll be looking for party destinations that aren't focused on locking us all up in the closet of the past.

Your Friday Guide

For some reason, Fridays have become my favorite night to go out. I'm not sure why this is, but it seems that most of the events of interest to me happen on Fridays. Well, that's just fine, more time to recover. So, for this Friday the jaded gay DJ recommends:

FUK werk Fridays Happy Hour at 111 Minna
A new minimal techno happy hour in downtown, yee-haa!

Fag Fridays at The EndUp
Reliable, if not all that exciting, but it goes all night, expect to pay around $20 to get in and to dance to pretty typical San Francisco deep house (the DJs should update their bios, since they refer to clubs that don't exist any more)

The Rod at Deco
FREE before 10, $5 after, where the guys tend to be a bit frisky, though the music is all disco-retro

Charlie Horse at The Cinch
Free entry, easy-going, cheap strong drinks, crazy drag escapades, a good place to put down a couple on a Friday night when you're looking for a low-key but entertaining evening

Lights Down Low at 222 Club
I've not had a chance to check out this night yet but it seems interesting (despite the cliche "sexy girls" video they have on their myspace page), with good reviews for the bar itself on Yelp. If anybody goes and can give a report, please do so for the benefit of myself and everyone else looking for a good time. This Friday is DJ Sleazemore's birthday, so expect some celebrating.

Not sure where I'll end up at this point; I've heard that there's a tattoo studio in Oakland that will do a "13" for you on Friday the 13th for 13 dollars, so the boyfriend and I may be getting inked with a friend of his, and lord knows what we'll get up to after that. I'll be sure to let you know, though.

Upcoming: The Rod at Deco, Friday, April 13

From Larry Bob's Queer Things to Do in San Francisco. Unfortunately, being a notorious Luddite, Bus Station John doesn't believe in things like email and websites, so if you wanna find out about his parties it's up to me, Larry Bob, picking up the right flyer, or putting THE ROD in big letters on your calendar every second Friday of the month. Deco is a swell club that's worth checking out regardless of how you (or I) might feel about the retro-vibeness of BSJ's various musical selections.

FRIDAY April 13, 10pm-3am
The ROD @ DECO Lounge
DJ Bus Station John (Tubesteak Connection / Double Dutch Disco) slips you "The ROD" every second Friday @ DECO Lounge, the Tenderloin's newest old-school gay watering hole. Get liquored-up cheap ($3 drink specials all nite) then hosed down in the always-saucy Wet Jockstrap Contest! $100 CASH for the winner, bar tabs for the runners-up. Jox available, or wear your sleeziest/cheeziest fave. Enjoy 3 floors of heavy cruising & hard cocktails, dancing to late 70's/early 80's retro-homo rareities, and after-hours action!

$5
10pm-3am.

DECO Lounge, 510 Larkin @ Turk.

Death to Disco

Death to Disco. If there is any trend in contemporary gay culture that I wish would dry up and blow away, it's the resurrection of the moldering corpse of disco. Look at the biggest alternative parties in the city, like Bus Station John's The Rod, and you'll see that shambling vampire sucking the life out of any spark of originality in the gay club scene. For the DJs who spin it, it's emblematic of a nostalgic age when being gay was fabulous and crazy and everybody was into the party-party lifestyle, or, in other words, t's emblematic of gay culture before AIDS, when you could go into any bath-house and get laid and not worry about the consequences - because we all know that's the height of gay club culture.

Death to disco; it makes the past seem like the only time when it was fun to be gay, when parties could be sexy, when we exercised some creative power in the world. Disco is existential bad faith.

Death to disco; it holds us back from being anything except caricatures, freezing our cultural identities in an era when most of us didn't even know we were gay yet. Is this the reason we so willingly embrace it, because it holds out a ghost to us as something real and substantial, a way to think about ourselves when we've become too lazy to create anything new?

Death to disco; it makes for lazy DJs, ones who don't have to think about what they're playing because it's all already been vetted for them, ones who think they can bypass essential skills because that's how they did it "back then," ones who are more focused on the rarities in their collections than trying to uncover something new and interesting. Show me a DJ who only plays disco, and I'll show you a DJ who really isn't trying.

Death to disco; dancers aren't reacting to the music, they're reacting to their own associations to it. Spin a track that no one's ever heard, that has no lyrics, and if they dance, it's because something in the music itself moves them. Spin a disco track and they're dancing because they've been conditioned to do so, dancing that becomes the embodiment of camp irony rather than real emotion.

Death to disco; the gay dance scene will never go anywhere until DJs start taking chances and playing contemporary music, engaging in the real work of digging through what's out there and finding ways to use it to bring a dancefloor together. The mission of the gay club DJ should be to find what exists in contemporary culture and dance music, think about how it can relate to a gay sensibility, and then put it all together in a coherent vision of a gay club experience. Which, when you think about it, is what gay DJs in the 1970s and 80s were doing, not rehashing something that had already been digested for them. Do we want pre-digested baby food, or do we want to cook for ourselves?

Death to Disco; we need a new, joyous, ecstatic, utopian vision for ourselves, not a threadworn hand-me-down. Drive the stake through the heart of the disco vampire, it only sucks away our psychic energy.

Death to disco, death to disco, death to disco.