Here’s a song with which I will always and forever connect with The Dance Cave.
Some of you who live, have lived in, or frequently visit Tarannah will likely have heard of or know of Lee’s Palace. It’s a long-standing concert venue in the Annex neighbourhood that has seen a great many alternative and rock acts grace its stage since opening in the mid 80s. If you’ve never been there, you likely remember its garish paint job that looked like a Ralph Bakshi cartoon exploded all over the face of the building, long since pared down to a mere memory of itself after years of weather did its worst. Upstairs from said venue, they had a big open space that served more as a rough and tumble looking club that often played alternative and indie rock, served $1.50 glasses of mystery draft, and was packed most days of the week throughout the 90s. This was The Dance Cave.
It was the first club I went to with any regularity because it played “my music”. Music I loved and music that I was destined to love. “Lazarus” by The Boo Radleys is one of these latter tunes that was played there pretty much any night that I attended and that I danced to every time, countless times before I even knew the name of the song or its performing artist.
The Boo Radleys formed in 1988 and broke up just over a decade later having released six full length albums. They started off firmly planted in the shoegaze realm for the first half of their career before embracing the inescapable wave of britpop for their last three albums and actually saw a modicum of commercial success during this latter period. And though I loved “Lazarus” through and through during the late 90s, I never really explored their catalogue into well after their break up. My first stop was, of course, 1993’s “Giant steps” and that album took me a long time to digest and fathom because it was so expansive and diverse in sound and scope. Some would call it an unheralded masterpiece of shoegaze and I couldn’t disagree.
In amongst the noise, “Lazarus” is lucky 13 of 17 tracks. It starts off with alien waves of guitars, strings fed through pedals charged with laser beams. This just sets the stage, allows you time to put down your beverage and rush out into the crush of sweaty bodies on the heaving dance floor and at the same time, plays the decoy for the incredible explosions yet to come. Then, everything vaults skyward and the dancing begins in earnest. And just when you think you might have to take a break, the vocals start in to calm the mood some, soothing the energy, allowing the spray of perspiration to settle, just before kicking it all up again. It’s the classic loud-quiet-loud, disruptive energy, a blurry anthem and cause for happiness and bliss for its entirety.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 1993 list, click here.
My (life in) music lists 