Review: CLUB LIFE, Omnibus Theatre

Stepping out from behind the ones and twos, Lemon Jelly DJ and club promoter Fred Deakin takes us on an odyssey through his own life and times. Club Life was one of the Edinburgh Fringe’s word-of-mouth hits last year, an immersive theatre piece that takes his career as a starting point and allows the audience the chance to jump on the dance floor.

Those expecting tell-all tales of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll or lurid accounts of after-show parties and groupies will be disappointed. If anything, powered by a slide deck and a record deck, this story is more about love, hospital drugs and AC/DC, The Smiths as well as whatever else Deakin has ready to spin on his decks. And instead of sexual shenanigans, the narrative here is more about the communities he has been part of and his journey to finding his own “tribe” and transitioning from working in clubs to international fame with Lemon Jelly and later becoming a university professor and co-founder of a design studio.

The journey starts predictably enough as we saunter through Fred’s early days as an awkward schoolkid. Matters of the heart and other parts are never far from his mind and, clutching his collection of 7-inch records, he finds his niche entertaining friends at parties from an early age with songs . His teenage tunnel scope focuses on post-punk before he develops more wider tastes. At university, he finds himself again playing his music for others, this time in nightclubs as part of events like Blue, Thunderball and the deliberately-styled “worst party in the UK” Misery. Further down the line, serious health issues raise their head before the DJ moves onto a new phase of life.

The sweet spot here is in Deakin’s joyful exclamations as he trundles through the late twentieth century. He evokes Australian-born style icon Leigh Bowery and his ultra-popular Blitz, an Eighties venue with a strict door policy based more on having the right look than anything else. He strangely attributes the famous quote “would you let you in?” to Bowery rather than the late Blitz bouncer and Visage singer Steve Strange; the idea of the former doing anything as labour intensive as manning a nightclub entrance is frankly laughable. The house and rave revolution of the Nineties is swerved somewhat in favour of more mainstream bangers and sonic fireworks like a bombastic remix of The Snowman’s “Walking In The Air”.

As is the way with much of immersive theatre, the audience makes all the difference. Our host emphasises near the beginning that a club needs dancers as much as  it needs music, and he’s not wrong. There’s no absolute requirement to stir from your sitting position but there’s enough tempting variety on hand from ska classic “On My Radio” from The Selector to solid groovers as well as cheesy songs that wouldn’t sound out of place in any wedding reception. Even the most stubborn of seat warmers will likely find themselves on their feet before the end if only to make use of the bar at one end of the room or remove the risk of DVT threatened by staying still through the 2.5 hour-running time.

Director Sita Pieraccini is also a performance artist and you can see her influence in getting Fred to move from behind his decks to float among his audience. She has shaped his story from being more than just a mere linear narrative into something far more interactive and engaging, wisely keeping the mood light even in the darkest moments and switching the tempo up frequently as we go through the decades. His final shimmy in the spotlight is a perfect sendoff and thank you to those who have bring this event to life night after night.

Maybe it’s the endorphins speaking, but there is something beautiful and special about any show that is so inclusive and relaxed and works so hard to please its audience. It has a concept at its heart that could over time scale to bigger venues or be turned into an anthology with different DJs telling their stories. The next time that the Arts Council should find itself wondering where to splash the cash to get punters off the couches, away from the screens and into theatres, they could do worse than throw more money at immersive shows in general and this one in particular.

Club Life continues at the Omnibus Theatre until 24 November

Photo credit: Kat Gollock

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