Junkie Thoughts and Opinions: The End for The End

Miami

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home > nightlife&clubs > Junkie Thoughts and Opinions: The End for The End

January 15, 2009 4:45 PM
by Michael Maryanoff

It was Rory Phillips who broke the bad news to me at The Vagabond one Friday night. I was glad that he had come all the way to Miami, but I wanted to see him spin on his own turf. But then he dropped a bombshell: that wouldn’t be possible. Developers would be buying the space and turning it in to a casino. Even though I was an ocean away, talking about a place I had only been a few times, I felt like I had lost a local club.

Miami has its fair share of clubs with a steady following. There are scores of people who can’t remember a Sunday morning where they didn’t see the sunrise on the terrace. Friday regulars at The Vagabond are so devout that they will keep drinking even when the power goes out in the middle of the night (it has, and they did). But The End is like that on a global scale. What makes it so special is that it doesn’t feel like one club. When a big DJ would come through and they would open the whole thing up - main room and lounge included - it would feel like any big-room venue, complete with pill-popping British teens and indoor sunglasses. When they have their Friday night D&B monthly, Chew the Fat, it’s a dingy, south of the Thames Drum and Bass hangout (albeit with a bit more updated décor). For Durrr, it becomes an electro-friendly hipster haven, with obscure and wonderful dance rock from the likes of Rory Phillips. It’s the least one could expect from a club owned by the likes of Layo and Mr. C. When club owners are spending their weekdays in the studio rather than sleeping off hangovers, it’s obvious where their priorities lie.

And that’s the source of the allure. From the minute you stood in line until your squinted at the early morning sun pouring through it exit doors, it never felt like anyone was trying to impress you. There weren’t any doormen in over-priced suits seemingly on a mission to make you stand around in a long-sleeved shirt like an idiot. It wasn’t rife with scowling fedora-adorned bottle poppers desperately trying to cultivate their egos with overpriced vodka. It had the feeling of an underground dance venue, but it’s easy to forget that The End was recently number four on DJMag’s top 100 DJ poll.

Maybe those in clubland who are big on theatrics and low on attendance could learn a thing or two from The End’s almost decade-long run. Maybe it would be better to try to let people through the door instead of driving them out with scowls. Maybe running a club has more to do with having the best music than the most expensive vodka. And maybe, just maybe, it couldn’t hurt to create an atmosphere where people feel more at home 4000 miles away than they do in their own backyard.

Views expressed in this article are solely that of the author and does not necessarily represent the views and opinions of CoolJunkie.