I have mentioned a few times throughout my blog that I am a tragic music junkie. Growing up, my first great love was rock music and then heavy metal. I used to spend all of my pocket money poring through CD stores from the age of 11 onwards. I took my first part time job at 15, and every Thursday when my pay came in, anything I earned over $100 (which was put towards buying my first car), would be spent in JB Hi-Fi, digging through their vast collection of rare and private imports, as my tastes delved deeper and deeper underground.
At 24, I moved to Europe, where I spent my winters living in London and my summers in Ibiza; two of the world's electronic music capitals. It was there that I developed a profound afición for the deep, immersive sounds of progressive house and melodic techno; a passion which has held a considerable influence on my decision-making processes ever since, informing my choices about where to go on nights out, and even about travel destinations!
Aficionado means the same thing in Spanish as it does in English, however in Spanish, the root word is also used. Afición means “passion”, and is one of my favourite words in any language – not just for its meaning, but also its beautiful pronunciation: uh-fee-see-ON.
Listen to this while reading this article. Ideally with headphones.
I know India has a great underground electronic music scene, and it's my absolute determination to discover it. I already tried and failed in Goa, and I know that with Mumbai being India's largest city and entertainment capital, it represents my best shot at finding it.
Luckily, thanks to some former jobs writing about the scene in Europe, I have contacts in Mumbai.
One of my contacts links me up with nightclub promoter Vinay Khilnani. Vinay is hosting an event at Kitty Su, in the affluent suburb of Andheri. A rickshaw drops me to the front gate of the very swanky LaLit hotel just after 11pm. There’s a small slum out the front of the hotel. Kitty Su is on the side of the building, its facade dressed in rusted sheets of iron, lending it the appearance of a slum building itself. I’m not entirely sure that it’s a very tasteful look given the surroundings, but I’m here for partying, not politics.
Inside, Kitty Su is possibly the glitziest club I’ve ever set foot in. LED displays adorn the wall behind the DJ and also on the front of the booth. There’s a great laser show. To the right is a VIP section with leather bound booths. Over on the left, the bar flaunts bottles of Dom Perignon and Grey Goose. A calming herbal fragrance hangs in the air, possibly coming from the Antarctic-grade air conditioning. The smooth tiled dance floor is still pretty empty, so I saunter over to the bar for a drink. The prices are eye watering, with house spirits priced from 800-1000 rupees (£8-10). I settle for a bottle of Kingfisher, the ubiquitous local beer.
Local DJ Hans Seance is opening up proceedings, laying down some smooth deep house as the punters slowly filter in. Just like in Goa, this is a very glamorous and affluent crowd; gorgeous women and sharp dressed men, a kaleidoscope of big personalities and big bank accounts. These aren’t the everyday people you see strolling the streets of Mumbai, or anywhere else in India for that matter.
The sound system in Kitty Su is absolutely sublime. The thundering bass is powerful enough to vibrate your rib cage, yet it doesn’t detract from the clean, crisp delivery of the mids and trebles. It’s loud, but the delivery is so precise that you can have a conversation without raising your voice, simply by speaking at a pitch that the music isn’t occupying. That’s a sign of first rate sound engineering, and it shames several more famous European clubs that I’ve been to.
I meet Vinay and we have a brief chat about the state of the scene here in Mumbai. He informs me that it’s largely fed by locals who have visited or studied in Europe, and want to be able to have the same experiences when they return home. I comment on the stark contrast between what’s happening inside the walls of the club, compared to the goings on outside. The disconnect between the middle classes and the poor is something that everyone in India is painfully aware of, Vinay tells me. He has other people to see, but tells me not to leave when the party “finishes” at 3am.
Hans Seance hands over to another local DJ, Bombay Karma, who leads us through the next hour or so, slowly building the tension in the room, teasing with a few techno tracks in between the deep house selections. The crowd exude youthful enthusiasm. With every drop, hands fly into the air and ecstatic cheers fill the room.
Headlining tonight’s proceedings is Eelke Kleijn, visiting from Rotterdam. He takes control at 12:45, the crowd having been warmed up masterfully by Bombay Karma, and delivers a relentless stream of anthemic, good vibes techno. He plays for 2.5 hours, and every mouth in the room is grinning, the luxurious air conditioning not enough to prevent the sweaty storm brewing on the dance floor.
It’s soon 3.15am and Eelke Kleijn finishes up. I spy Vinay standing next to a door behind the DJ booth. As instructed, I stay where I am, and once the crowd has thinned a little, Vinay opens up the door and starts ushering the more conscientious party heads inside.
This “secret” room in the back is just as lavish as the front room, and yet it has the vibe of a grimy afterparty joint in London. Heavily crowded, tired ravers slouching on couches in one corner, a DJ tucked into a tiny booth in the opposite corner, the techno tunes rolling on, deep into the morning.
By 5am, I’ve had enough overpriced tequila shots that my legs aren’t going to hold me up for much longer, let alone be able to do any dancing, so I make for the door. As I wait for a cab out the front, a friendly group of club heads invite me back to their apartment for an after party.
It’s an offer too good to refuse, so I tag along. Without divulging too much incriminating information, let's just say that the taxi driver is more than willing to take a detour to assist us in facilitating some nefarious activities. After an amusing adventure, I find myself in a 20th story apartment drinking whisky and listening to Goa trance until well after the sun rises.
Eventually the What do you do? conversation comes up, and I find out that these party animals are lawyers and business executives. At first I'm taken aback. Lawyers?! You wouldn't too often hear of such corporate high-flyers shaking a leg on the dance floors in the underground clubs of Europe. But then, I figure, my night out just cost me as much as many Indians would earn in a week, so I guess it's not all that surprising that clubbing here is the domain of the wealthy.
Walking through the slums and the traffic and the filth to ride home the overcrowded metro is not easy at 10am after a big night out. But given the fantastic night that has been had, it's a worthwhile struggle. Bombay knows how to party.