By Jeff Kubik
They’re always loud, that’s a certainty. Certain too are the random flashing lights in scattered sections throughout the bar, shining on glistening skin covered in sweat and spilled alcohol. They’re built for dancing, drinking and sex and don’t make any pretensions about being anything else. So huzzah for the capital “C” Club, huzzah for the Back Alley!
“Crack Alley” remains the club’s unshakable nickname, a missive that conjures up dirty, dirty images of dirty, dirty people. But the truth is simply that this is endemic of all nightclubs. While I may find perusing a meat market to the strains of top 40 drek mind-numbing, the club-inclined have no reason to steer clear of the Alley.
Music? Yep, it certainly has that. Alcohol? You had better believe I conducted my own thorough investigation there (verdict: alcohol is abundant). Scantily-dressed women and hungry-eyed guys? There’s no denying it. Guess what kids? It’s a nightclub, fulfilling every promise it made.
In fact, the only distinguishing feature immediately apparent was its size, and here I mean to give an enormous kudos to this much-maligned watering hole. Where Cowboys packs its skin with wall-to-wall density, where other bars chop up ample space into bite-sized bottlenecks, the Back Alley is wide open, multileveled and built to help its human traffic travel as easily as the sound from its speakers.
Compliments are also due for the club’s overall design. Located on the south end of the building, its secondary bar offered a welcome respite from the constant pounding of dance music, a place to relax if so inclined. Hell, I was actually able to speak to other human beings without having to tear my vocal chords screaming.
So if it’s a club you want, suit up in your skin tight, see-through club gear and haul yourself wherever you’re inclined to go. If you’re southward bound, the Alley’s the closest place for you. It may be loud and a little sleazy, but that’s what you’re looking for anyway. Aren’t you?