A dancefloor, as settings go, is a pretty absurd arena for subversive commentary. Jungle Dub, The Bongo Club’s weekly Wednesday foray into dubstep, jungle, reggae and dancehall welcomes wind-lashed punters through its doors to the sight of a disco ball—or rather, a bundle of them—overhead. Other than the fact that there’s something quite cheeky about a light system programmed to swerve away from the reflective surfaces of the Bongo’s mirrored disco balls, the sight itself is a pathetic one. Dangling like rotten grapes on a shrivelled vine, the glittering orbs are pitifully inert, and are an entirely ridiculous accoutrement to this grimy, treble-crushing soiree.
As it is, Jungle Dub is a musically excellent proposition; particular highlights that thud through the Bongo’s tinnitus-bothering speakers include a corkscrewed rendition of DJ Mujava’s ‘Township Funk’ and a particularly esoteric Andre 3000 dub. It’s well past midnight before anything resembling a crowd turns up, most of whom are clutching Red Stripe—the lager-flavoured signifier of all that is indier-than-thou. That said, nobody sniffs at keenly priced beverages, at £1.50 a pop. Free entry is nothing to baulk at either; while the allure of the Bongo has every bit as much to do with thrift as it does with thrills, Jungle Dub’s inherently relaxed atmosphere and bulging basslines are comfortably in keeping with both approaches. The green and purple lights, studiously avoiding the disco balls as they blink and skitter across the walls, provide a useful shorthand for the Jungle Dub ethos—an evening high on substance and low on gaudy exhibitionist nonsense, disco mockery notwithstanding.
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