Club Dead: Opening Act

My club.
Few people see it nestled in between the neon signs of the shops and bars around us. The noise of the clubs drowning out any sound that you may hear.
Few people see this place. Fewer still come in.
Perhaps you are curious? Or feel like you want to be in here? Whatever the reason, when you open the door to it, always closed but the sign says open, you may taste the air and wrinkle your nose. It’s a little harsh at first.
Not long after you step inside, your eyes will adjust to the darkness. You’ll see the stairs there.
Hand-rail will make sure you aren’t slipping down them any faster than you want. They are a bit steep but nobody ever slips on them.
The pictures on the wall are sepia, black and white and faded… as old as the place itself.
At the bottom, another door away, you enter the real place.
It may look empty. Empty seats, empty glasses and you probably feel a little empty if you felt the need to come in.
It’s brightest in the centre. But that isn’t so bright.
After a moment you’ll see the shadows with their drink and perhaps even notice the band in the corner. They don’t intrude. A bass, low-tone electric guitar. Gentle drums and even a piano… I like the piano.
They move like smoke in the corner. Slow, constant and strangely twisting inwards and about each other like they aren’t quite there…
If you look real close when you come in you’ll recognise me. Everyone does. I’m one of those people you know. Just not much.
If you see me I’ll nod your way, my wine glass in hand. Same look on my face and same clothes as usual.
Eventually you will go to the bar. Always do.
The barman is just as cool and smooth as the air now tastes, less cruel on your breath as it was before. He smiles and nods at you. You ask for your drink. He’ll get it. Rare he doesn’t have it. If he doesn’t have it he’ll gently shake his head. Choose another, friend.
With your drink, take a seat. At the bar? Perhaps at the tables? By the band? Near a woman? Near a man? You chose, friend.
The band are playing slow… subdued jazz or a long blues. Most like the tune. If not then it at least makes you forget whatever may be bothering you out there.
In here, it doesn’t matter. It’s too calm here. Time is slowed. You don’t need to talk but if you wanted to, nobody else hears. The air seems like warm water.
The music plays. Sip your drink a little.
One last look around. Look at the others. Look at the ladies, look at the gentlemen. Nod at the ones that see you or look away. No bother. No worry.
This place is here all night. Open all hours but night is when we have the most here.
There are some ladies here who may remind you of ones you know. Men too. Friends and lovers perhaps?
No worry. No matter.
Look around at Club Dead. The name is just a name. Nothing to do with me but it is ironic the place is so quiet. That some people here look so hollow. Taking in what they can to replace what the world above has taken. This place seems dead. But I assure you that if you look again, you may see the life of the place.
Few people see us
Finished your drink? A nod at the man at the bar, he’ll bring another. Or wave him over if you want something else.
Hand your money, he gives change.
Nobody moves to fast… it’s all so slow in here. Like moving too fast might break the spell in this warm, dark basement under the world above.
Problems? Not here. There’s just a drink. A chair, table, sofa, band and time. Plenty of time indeed.
All you need do is take it easy.
What’s the time? Look around. There’s a clock above the bar. Not that it makes any noise. The hands gently turning steadily. No second hand. Nothing that small matters here.
Time to go? That’s cool.
No, just leave your glass or bottle there. No need to worry about it.
Take care friend. Hope to see you again soon.
Bye.

Club Dead: Opening Act

Nathaniel Tempest

Redditch, United Kingdom

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

Club Dead is a quiet place. slow music playing where people feel that they need to be. they don’t forget what’s above… it just doesen’t hurt as much here.
he was drawn here long ago. this is his charge. perhaps you would like to come in?

Artwork Comments

  • Gemma Birks
  • Nathaniel Tempest
  • JoHunt
  • Nathaniel Tempest
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