You may not expect to find the soul of the city in a conservative club, but this is where it exists. We put on our dancing shoes.
“It’s like a secret world, though I make no secret of it. It’s sweaty and communal”
At the end of Camden Row away from the hustle of Wexford Street lies the Conservative Club. It’s a nondescript building notified solely by a gold plaque and a blue door. Founded in 1883 to cater for the social needs of working-class Protestants in the city, it is now home to Rangers fans and those who enjoy their snooker. It is also home to the D8 Soul Club which it houses every two months.
On a dank Friday at the tail-end of April, I buzz the buzzer and descend the stairs past photos and relics of times past. In the belly of the space exists a function room in the classic tradition of Irish ones with upholstered benches at the side and padded stools adjoining a dance floor. A place where you can rest your pint and observe or spring to your feet and let loose – or, “a place where you’d expect the Kray’s to be beating someone in the corner,” as one punter wryly observes.
Soul, through its various prisms of gospel, r’n’b and jazz, along with geographical slants such as Northern and Detroit, provides the soundtrack to a club night which seems far from the madding crowd. It also provides a sanctuary and refuge for an older, more discerning, dancer who most likely finds the existing club spaces in the city skewed against their taste and comfort.
Barney Taylor, one of the quartet who decided to set up this bi-monthly night three years ago, talks about the simple joy this sweet music elicits. “I love it because it makes me feel 16 again, you get to play vinyl which I like, as a collector. I love the aural history, the records bought and the story of where they bought it.” He has started a podcast and has plans to do a book.
“There’s only two rules in this club: OVO – Original Vinyl Only so there’s no repress, no boots, no CDs. You own the single and it’s first edition, or you don’t play it. That might sound elitist, but it makes for a much more interesting event. The only other rule is there are no boundaries – it can go from late ‘50s/‘60s r’n’b up to a bit of house. Soul is such a big spectrum. You can see where ‘70s soul moved into disco into house. Karl Tsigdinos came here and played a gospel set.”
Seated in the corner is Donal Dunne with his wife Megan. He discusses the vibrant scene for soul in the city. “This is very different to Pow City which is a bit more Northern Soul, a bit more driving. This is more nuanced. DJs here are happy to play more popular hits than obscure.” He references labels such as Colemine Records from Ohio, Big Crown Records and Daptone in New York and Lady Wray (on Big Crown) who are at the forefront on the scene. “I’m 60-years-old and I’m still finding new music,” he says, citing Firehouse Skank and Boss Reggae Train meets Dakka Skanks – two other events clashing with this on his calendar.
Elsewhere in the club is DJ Tony Doyle, one of the stalwarts of the scene. “Me mother’s English and me father’s Irish. I grew up in Stoke-on-Trent. My uncle used to be a DJ in the Golden Torch there, one of the original soul clubs. I’d remember being in the back of his car listening to him playing tracks. And now it’s turned into an addiction, an obsession.
“When you pay thousands of pounds for a records! I have a record in my box worth around eight thousand pounds. Vinyl is 50 percent of the scene. People hunting for rare records. It’s an addiction. I’d probably spend on average eight to ten hours a week listening to new records, trying to truffle out tracks. There’s soul auctions out there, the price of records is going crazy. Jack White of The White Stripes bought a record by Frank Wilson for £32,000, Do I Love You (Indeed I Do).”
Indeed, the history of soul is often a rather sad tale, with minor artists having no idea of the value placed on their creations elsewhere in the world. This was in a pre-internet era and is well documented in the Soul Function documentary a few years ago.
“I’ve seen a lot of live acts overwhelmed,” adds Doyle. “They wrote two or three songs in the ‘60s and weren’t hits. They can’t believe years later that thousands of people are into them. One of the saddest stories is a record by Mel Britt, ‘She’ll Come Running Back’, it was a flop for him at the time but ended up being one of the biggest records on the soul scene. Some people tracked him down years ago on a trip to Motown and found out he was a down-and-out. The group did a collection and tried help him back on his feet.
“The biggest track for me at the moment is The Hamilton Movement, ‘She’s Gone’. It’s less Motown’s 60s sound and has a more disco vibe. I paid two and half grand for it and it’s worth around seven or eight now.”
One thing that is somewhat lacking from the scene is the sense of unique style which complimented the slide, swivel and glide of feet. “Back in the day, in the Northern Soul scene most of the women wore the big pleated skirts with the Adidas tops and the guys wore the bell-bottoms with Adidas t-shirts. That’s gone. It was an identifier fashion for soul people. For me, it was always about the music. It’s what’s in the groove that counts.” says Doyle, spoken like a true DJ.
And so, the magic carpet ride continues. I bump into a drum teacher from London who “saw the poster and went looking for the place.” There’s a chap from Amsterdam who’s been to the last few, sitting observing the sweaty grooves under the disco lights.
As the night winds down, I encounter one such sweaty duo – Ann Sheehy and Eric Weitz, originally from New York but living here 26 years. “During the civil rights movement, soul was important. Northern Soul was not something we knew about,” Sheehy says.
Their love of the night and the scene exemplifies its draw. “It resulted from a love of the same music but different cultural origins. Ann would say we never go out dancing and I’d say there’s nothing to dance to. It’s wonderful music to dance to. There’s different ages, demographics and a communal vibe” adds Weitz. “It’s like a secret world, though I make no secret of it. It’s sweaty and communal.”
The next D8 Soul Club is on in the Conservative Club, on Friday June 28 from 8pm. It will feature Barney Taylor, Tony Doyle, Adrian Jae and Lisa Wolverson among others. €5, OVO.
Words: Michael McDermott
Photos: Adrian Wojtas
