Saturday night at Eurotrash was truly a turning point for me. Up till then I’d never really had a problem with a younger crowd at an event. I’m only 22 myself, which is not old enough to become jaded of the dance music scene and start whining on forums about how these young people are ruining the purity of my chosen style of bleeps-and-bloops, dang nammit. It is old enough, however, to see when there has been absolutely no quality control at the door and all types of rude, drunk 18 year old guys have been allowed to come in with their posse of clones. All with the same short gelled spike hairstyles. All with a monotone design t-shirt from General Pants they bought to replace the Travisty t-shirts they wore out last year. None there for the music.

When my friends and I arrived at 12:30 the line was moderately long and moving slowly, but surely. Stepping inside we were greeted by a suffocating cluster of people waiting for the bar. Mu-gen was on the decks playing some tried and tested M.I.A. Yet the crowd were either buying drinks or scattered round on the seats available. Boring. Pushing through the crowd I noted that girls were a complete rarity, this was a sausage-fest that would have put a German butcher to shame. Once we made it to the sound proofed hallway we could hear the familiar head-pounding basslines of Raven by Proxy. I expected to see a room full of people jumping up and down to the familiar banger, but instead what I saw was extremely discouraging. Eurotrash is a strange venue for a good DJ to play at. There’re absolutely no lighting effects besides a solitary red light behind the DJ booth, its dancefloor is obstructed by pillars, only a few feet away from the decks which is situated on the right side of the room and there’s a stage on the far end that is used for, I assume, bands and comedy revue nights. The only people responding to Jaime Doom’s attempts to start a riot were the mass clump of kids on the slightly raised stage, which became prime property with the few girls in the venue up there pretending to be Lady Gaga performing for her adoring fans, while legions of spiked clones attempted to position their penises as close to them as possible. As I observed this I started to have ‘Nam-esque flashbacks of Frostbites circa 2005. I shuddered.

Glancing suspiciously at the unresponsive crowd, Doom dropped Kidda’s Under The Sun (Herve Remix) and it sort of worked! A few people chucked their hands in the air, the universal sign of knowing the words to the track yet any excitement that had rippled through the crowd died an untimely death somewhere around the stage area, where groups of guys stood around with their drinks and looked at other guys dancing with death-stares. Doom slipped in the Bang Gang remix of Shoes with no crowd reaction (I despise the Tiga track so much I can’t blame people for not dancing to this one, but it would have elicited a response anywhere else). My friends had grown bored of upstairs by this point and so had I. Doom was doing his best to drop some crowd pandering cheese (*Soulwax’s* remix of MGMT, anyone?) in between quality tracks and was getting nothing back. It was tiring to watch.

Moving back downstairs, we stood around drinking and talking about the night so far. As I looked ‘round at the popart painted on the outside walls I realised why I had bothered coming here. Fundamentally I like Eurotrash. It can be a fun bar. But that’s just the problem. It’s a bar. A quirky bar, but a bar nonetheless. Not a club, not a live music venue – a bar. It’s somewhere that you can come on a weekday and enjoy their vast array of European beers and admire the fun decor. It’s not somewhere you come to hear a quality dance set and lose your shit. Yet in recent times they have managed to secure sets from international DJs like Breakbot and Shadow Dancer, as well as monthly appearances by well-known locals like Bag Raiders. Eurotrash needs to decide what it wants to be, because upstairs is clearly not suited for the type of events they hold there and they are obviously promoting to the wrong crowd. It’s an embarrassment that DJs come to play in Melbourne and are subjected to horrible audio-visual set-ups and shit crowds.

Just as this thought crossed my mind, wandering back up, I noticed people running in all different directions. I found my friends upstairs and asked what had happened. They told me a fight had started between two dickhead guys and the security and punches had ensued. I shook my head with a smile on my face. This is what happens when you let the overspill from Billboards (around the corner) come to a cramped bar. Fights. Jamie Doom drew attention back to the music with the A-Track remix of Boys Noize’s Oh and the dance floor started to move! Had the crowd finally got better? After moving back because the guys in front of me kept slamming into me with their erratic dance moves I realised the crowd hadn’t changed, the pills had just kicked in. I kept feeling something on my neck, and looked down to see a straw land near my feet. I swung around just in time to see another one leave the hand of a guy on the stage, laughing with his mates. I walked up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Do it again and see what happens” I said. He nervously laughed and said I was tripping. It was time to leave. I was sick of this crowd and it was ruining my mood entirely. Next time I go back to Eurotrash it will be purely in the pursuit of a quiet midweek drink, not music. What a disappointing night.