Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Memories Of Things That Never Happened

I was reading the Wiki page on Gary Numan this morning and, as often happens, I started following outward links (that's how I know that Jesse Venture lives in Mexico now). I hit a page about the New Romantic culture of the late 70's, early 80's, and I read this passage:

The genre's genesis took place largely through clubs such as Billy's in Dean Street, London, which ran David Bowie and Roxy Music nights in the aftermath, evolving into the highly successful and elitist Blitz Club in Great Queen Street and later Hell, which were hosted by Steve Strange who was also the doorman and Rusty Egan who was the DJ and in many ways defined the sound of the movement. Boy George was the cloakroom attendant. The club spawned a hundred suburban spin-offs in, around and outside London, among which were Croc's in Rayleigh, Essex, and The Regency in Chadwell Heath, where Depeche Mode and Culture Club had their debut gigs as fledgling bands, the movement rapidly spread as far as Barbarella's Club in Birmingham, while it was still underground, shaping the newly formed Duran Duran. (From the Wiki)

Reading this made me...melancholic. It made me yearn for those days, those names, those clubs. That experience.

That experience, which I never had.

I was born in 1974. By the time I was old enough to go to clubs, two things had happened:

  1. Grunge was The Thing; and
  2. There were no real clubs in my town to begin with.
Ergo, I didn't do that stuff in my 20s. I was, literally, in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I read about it, though, I get what I can only call a hankering -- a real need to experience that, to be there to see it, to feel that energy, that vibe, that genesis. To be a part of it.

Is my melancholy jealousy? Whatever it's a huge influence on my gaming, because it informs my cyberpunk setting.

You know, the one I never do anything with.