SF Weekly

Bootie SF
Saturday, Feb. 16, 2013
DNA Lounge

The bouncer stamped my left wrist, my friend and I walked through the door, and then it all went blurry: We had just stepped into a club full of shitfaced people screaming the chorus to Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" over the spiralling pianos of Coldplay's "Clocks." Trying to make our way toward the ATM (and ultimately failing), we pushed through the crowd like icebreakers violently navigating an arctic trade route. Cocktails flew everywhere, flesh ground against flesh, shutter shades were dropped and stepped on. I looked up and studied a pirate flag draped from the balcony of DNA Lounge and asked myself if it would have been a better idea to have finally gone to a salsa night instead.

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Christopher Victorio

Swedish House Mafia at Bill Graham Civic Auditorium last night.

Swedish House Mafia
Bill Graham Civic Auditorium
Wednesday, Feb. 14 2013

DJ Sneak may very well have been speaking the truth when he called the Swedish House Mafia "DJ actors." Watching them in performance, as I did last night during the first night of its farewell run at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium, one gets the feeling that the members' occasional headphone passing and seemingly constant knob twiddling is really only a pretense. But to complain about such a thing is to totally miss the point. The appeal of the group is not in the trio as DJs (though I'm sure that's a component), but rather in the immensity of the spectacle that surrounds them. What the group offers is two hours of total sensory domination that feels like a particularly affecting 3-D movie. In fact, that movie analogy might be a good way of thinking about Swedish House Mafia's work. After all, what other DJ finishes with a roll of credits?

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Kahley Avalon Emerson

Too Far Gone with Carlos Souffront, Bobby Browser
Undisclosed Location
Saturday, Feb. 10, 2013

The fare on the meter read an astonishing $20 by the time we reached the outskirts of the city. Passing through a desolate industrial expanse, I momentarily wondered how we were going to get home. It's a sign of the times that San Francisco's undergrounds have gradually returned to the outer limits. With the rate the cops have been busting things, it's just too risky to do it in the SOMA, and downtown might as well be completely off limits--besides, you can be as loud as you want if nobody lives nearby. We made a turn onto a new street and the thumping drone of an industrial-strength machine kickdrum guided us toward our destination, an unmarked doorway on a street lined with shuttered warehouses.

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SF Weekly

1015 & Blasthaus presents Matthew Dear
Friday, Feb. 1, 2012
1015 Folsom

The past couple months have seen a new kind of party rise at 1015 Folsom. The old behemoth of San Francisco nightlife has recently taken to opening its doors for free, letting in lots of budget-minded clubbers to events that would be hard to describe as "budget conscious." To give you an idea, last weekend the venue used all of its four rooms and brought out Matthew Dear for a stylistically clashing evening where the straightforward drive of techno met the off-center rhythm of bass. Musically it was an odd pairing, but the sheer amount of variety -- not to mention the low cost to entry -- kept the venue packed for at least as long as we were there.

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Kahley Avalon Emerson

Icee Hot 3 Year Anniversary with Martyn and Jacques Green
Public Works
Saturday, Jan. 19, 2012

Better than: This horrible advice.

"Miss Thing? There is no guest list tonight!" said the sample as we once again made our way onto the dancefloor at Public Works. Breaking through a temporary wormhole induced by sampling, the voice called to us from a distance of about 20 years. However, as much as it might have sounded like Lil' Louis, it was actually Icee Hot resident Ghosts on Tape, who, through clever manipulation, had contorted the classic vocal riff into something altogether more contemporary. His crashing, '90s-style high-energy house gave the room a sonic glow that compensated for the lack of light with bright stabs and busy percussion. It was still very early, and the night could potentially go anywhere from here.

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Kahley Avalon Emerson

Still Going, Manik, Justin Vandervolgen, Matrixxman
Public Works, Monarch
12/31/12

Better than: Normal business hours.

The clock projected on the wall read 11:59. It was almost midnight on New Year's Eve and we were deadcenter on a packed dancefloor at Public Works. The round organ stabs of Bicep's "$tripper" rung out in the air, invoking the ravey spirit of the early '90s. The club was decked out phenomenally, with white garlands hung from every surface and a special geometric lighting rig glowing in the DJ booth. Still Going's Olivier Spencer was behind the turntables, and he'd so far played a solid set that built up nervous anticipation.

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Kahley Avalon Emerson

Sweater-Funk-Mosphere & Direct Current
Elbo Room and SUB/Mission
Saturday, Dec. 30 2012

Better than: Staying in one place all night. Or staying at home for that matter.

The Mission was alive by the time we made it to the corner of 18th and Valencia. Though usually crowded on a Saturday night, New Year's Eve's proximity seemed to add an extra charge to the bustle of people crowding the sidewalks. Our destination was Elbo Room, a venue temporarily taken over by the twin force of Sweaterfunk and Funkmosphere. The first name ought to be familiar to any person who's ever felt the urge to go out on a Sunday evening: It's the long-running '80s funk party that was once synonymous with Chinatown's LiPo Lounge. The second name might not be as recognizable, and that makes sense considering it's actually a Monday night affair in Los Angeles that counts Dâm Funk as one of its residents. I can't say much about Funkmosphere because I've never been, but judging by the number of people, Sweaterfunk has certainly come a long way from where it began.

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Kahley Avalon Emerson

In retrospect, 2012 was one of the best years for San Francisco nightlife in a long time. A part of that was the way in which many of the city's new venues seemed to finally come into their own: 222 Hyde re-opened with a dazzling lighting array, Monarch set a new standard for sound, and Public Works has become the go-to spot for some of the biggest names on the global touring circuit. Older venues kept up by honing in on subcultures: 1015 Folsom became the spot for leftfield beats, and Mighty continued its reign as a local parish for the church of old-school house. What tied it all together was a feeling of near-constant activity that had the weekends spilling out into the week. With so much going on everywhere, it was hard to keep track of it all. Keeping that in mind, here are our top 10 picks for the parties we were able to attend.

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Kahley Avalon Emerson

Lights Down Low, DJ Dials, and EVDM present Julio Bashmore
CELLspace
Saturday, Dec. 15, 2012

Better than: The same party at a more normal venue.

With scrutinizing looks and squinted eyes, this bouncer was just not having any of us. Avalon and I were standing in front of CELLspace and our new acquaintance was trying every trick in the book to try and prove that her driver's license wasn't fake. After 10 minutes of arguing, he pulled out a notepad and had her jot down a signature. While she was working he looked at me and smirked incredulously, "Did you know that this ID doesn't expire until 2053?" She returned with the piece of paper, and he held it up next to the card but shook his head. "Nope, doesn't match. You wanna tell me whose ID you've got?" You know things have taken a turn for the worse when clubs are forced to be so tight at the door, but then the past two weeks have brought unwelcome rumors that the California Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control is once again out prowling clubs in the city.

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Kahley Avalon Emerson

Acid Test presents Steven Tang
222 Hyde
Saturday, Dec. 8, 2012

Better than: Reading the comments that came with that recent Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence/Joe Arpaio story.

The ceiling powered up and a lone flash shot off, illuminating the brick-lined basement at 222 Hyde. For the past hour we'd been standing in darkness, surrounded by the chatter of a dancefloor populated by heads more interested in conversation than really dancing. Another flash went off -- this time I could see some people in front staring intently at Steven Tang as he loaded another brutal rhythm track onto one of the three turntables on the console. The room went dark again and the drums got louder. Another flash -- this time off beat.

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