Issue #10/65, May 20 - June 3, 1999  

Here we go again. I had planned to write a club review this time around that placed more emphasis on the "fun" part of my "socially-aware fun" equation, and less on humanist issues. This has nothing to do with the fact that the eXile is publishing spurious letters from dubious sources attacking me by name. I have a hard time believing anything written in this paper, and to be honest, I found them funny, even if their tone was hurtful, and even showed them to friends of mine. Those people who write those letters--if they really do exist--only mock themselves by proving their shallowness.

So once again, I find myself having to defend not only myself, but the silent majority of like-minded progressive expats who are so woefully underrepresented in this newspaper--a newspaper that, like it or not, is here to stay. First, in defending myself, I would like to counter accusations made against me by a few people in the community that my last column was possibly homophobic in my treatment of superstar designer Andrei Bartyev. The misunderstanding comes from a line in which I claim that Bartyev invited me to the bathroom with him. In fact, in my original copy, I said that he invited me to the "back room," since Bunker is a club with a front room, a main room, and a back room, but somehow, that "back" got changed to "bath". As it stands, the sentence doesn't make sense (as if I'd think that going to the bathroom with a gay man would "lead straight to Kosovo"!). I'm not sure if I changed that word or if the editors changed it, but I would certainly not put it past them to do such a thing. In any event, I deplore homophobia wherever it exists, and while it's true that I haven't yet visited a gay bar in Moscow, I do intend, in the near future, to commingle with our friends from the gay community.

Sadly, I find myself having to spend half of each review clearing my name before getting to my real task, which is helping you to find fun and evening entertainment in a city that is fraught with dangers and excitement.

I was goaded into stopping into two places this time around. I'll have to admit right off the bat, neither place was exactly "my style," being of the techno and New Russian breed, but nevertheless, a large segment of our readership likes this kind of thing. So I'll put on my best "rave generation" cap and tell you what to expect.

First, Virus. The brand new club just had its wide public opening this past weekend, and wow was it crazy! Virus is one of those clubs that, like Titanik or Gallereya, is pretty intimidating at first. I arrived at around midnight Friday night, and the place was already packed with Moscow's Most Beautiful men and women. I was stopped in the ultra-violet lit entranceway by the "face control" people, those fascists who seem to be everywhere in Moscow. They were going to deny me entrance because I was too underdressed, making particular light of my Banana Republic windbreaker and my ergodynamic walking shoes, which they vulgarly referred to as "sports shoes."

"Do you know how much these shoes cost me?" I asked the flathead with the earplug who stopped me. Naturally, he didn't answer, and I realized then that, considering Russian war hysteria, I best keep it to myself. I know that my girlfriend Amy, who is still staying in a certain central Canadian city waiting out the war, would have been angry with me even for this brief exchange. Luckily--or unluckily--for me, I had been invited to the club, so when my name was found on the special VIP list, they whisked me and my partner in for the evening.

I don't know what to say about Virus except that they clearly put a lot of money into making this place work. My partner, a young Russian whom I am giving English lessons to in exchange for Russian lessons (I'm teaching her English by having her read selections from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Riding", my favorite, and "The Beauty Myth", a book that Amy turned me onto, as exactly the medicine needed by Russian women in order to get over their male-pleasing complexes), was more impressed. She began dancing almost the minute we hit the dance floor.

I cannot fake it. Dancing to techno music is no fun. It is soulless, unimaginative, and conspicuous in its total absence of a social message. My student, Nastya, was oblivious to it all, only wishing to dance in her high heels, smiling and constantly trying to get me to dance like the others. She even took her blouse off, revealing what they call a "Wonder Bra" halter top, which is little more than wetsuit material. I was sad for her, but I decided that she was a project worth working on.

The club was packed full, and I have to admit here that I had a few drinks, none of them too cheap either. There was a lot of expensive European-looking decor, ultra-violet lights, chrome, mirrors, and one helluva sound system. I did check out the exciting bathroom, with its garden-ceiling. My biggest complaint would only be that the crowd was a little bit too pretentious and shallow for my tastes (I prefer Propaganda, Coffee Bean, and occasionally Silver's). But I can tell that for those of you who like hip and happening European-style discos, suave clientele and pulsing techno music, then this is the place for you.

Right next door to Virus is another club--well, actually a bar and restaurant--called "Brand". I can't really say much for this place yet. I stopped by briefly Sunday night while taking a walk with my student (we had just finished reading chapter one of "The Beauty Myth"). Surprisingly, even on a Sunday, there was a respectable-sized crowd of New Russians. Upstairs is a bar and disco, moderately sized and featuring a real updated Saturday Night Fever type of dance floor, while downstairs is the restaurant. The management is American, which bodes well both for the club and for the Russian employees who stand to benefit from the know-how--and, for us, the clients, who benefit most of all.

Funny I should catch myself saying such a thing. But even a Canadian in Moscow such as myself finds that there are things to appreciate about American culture. And yes, I will say in closing, that no one thing made this more clear to me than America's leadership in waging this campaign in Kosovo. Now, if only a message like that could be woven into the techno music, there might be something interesting. And rewarding.