Proud Camden
The common stable has always been a home for horses. But nothing
is sacred when the humans are around. We usurp and displace at
will, all in the name of consumerism. We're uncontrollably rampant
and unflinching. It's so bad the spiders in my garage have just
been evicted to make way for a new jazz club and our albino wabbit,
Muffy, was a tad anxious when the builders came round to measure
The Hutch the other day.
Proud Camden was once a stable - the neighbouring equine
sculptures and canal are a testament to that - and it's a big, long
pencil of a venue with a heart of 9B lead running right through it.
Quiet, unassuming photographic gallery by day,
bar-cum-club-cum-live-music-venue-cum-pinball-hangout by night.
Concerning the vibe and the music, there's three beautifully
decorated zones to enjoy; four if you count the queue outside. On
the left as you enter is the Big Daddy Dizzy Dazzler room, or so it
should be called due to the glitzy throb of writhing beings that
have taken up residence there. This room is smaller and sweatier
than the others, thus automatically making it the cosiest. Although
it appears busy, there's still acres of space. Not a Young Persons
Railcard holder in sight, either; this being where the older folk
move, groove, sway and play. A solitary, yet essential, disco ball
bursts from behind the exposed old beams and peers down upon the
many trilbies and foppish grins. The soundtrack is a delightful
blend of Northern Soul and south American flavour which emanates
from a mighty collection of well-positioned speakers; occasionally
coercing a duet of professional dancing girls to spring onto the
stage to demonstrate, in their pants, exactly how important
feathers are to the art of cabaret.
Meanwhile, Johnny Cash watches over the debauchery from the
safety of his black and white photo on the wall. It's all very
reminiscent of the brilliant Mr Wolf's in Bristol. If you know of
it, you'll now be excited about paying Proud a visit. If you don't,
you now have another reason to buy a ticket to Bristol.
The second room, the main space, is a drty drty club with a low
set stage upon which a variety of live acts unleash their inner
demons. The sound system in this room seems to be broken because
the volume control is permanently stuck on 'cardiac arrest'.
Combine the Ooonst-Ooonst of a beat pattern with a solid parquet
flooring and suddenly there's a recipe for flailing limbs and burst
eardrums. Bloody fantastic. Naturally, the younguns like to
congregate in here.
Area number 3 is the stable area itself. It's primarily concern
is dusty old vinyl; the kind that has funk hidden in every groove
and every diminutive scratch. Here is home to the fine fillies and
strapping studs that like to graze openly, posing for their own
delight and generally looking as though they never leave the Camden
market compound. And why would they? Each stable is named after a
famous horse - Seabiscuit, Phar Lap, Desert Orchid, Cloakroom, Bar
- and each contains a pole for the purposes of dancing; obviously
very typical of a stable. Occasional problems occur when the
stables are all booked out for private functions, and issues with
distribution can impede the flow. There is an outside area beyond
the stables' hub-bub and this is where the slightly more discerning
smoker likes to hang.
With the Barfly, Lock Tavern, and Enterprise all within a stage
dive of Proud - plus the inimitable Roundhouse space close by -
this is one of the most highly concentrated areas of London for
guitar pummeling. One would be fairly within one's right to assume
that Proud would generally have a skinny jean, soap-averse,
whisky-for-blood sort of crowd. Yet, as this IS such a big, long
pencil of place, it needs more than a herd of leather jackets to
fill it and, therefore, seeks a wider, more inclusive brethren;
which, it transpires, is wholly gratifying.
For example, the ladies - nay, girls! - are so immaculately
primed and retina-burningly attractive there must be a Toni &
Guys Hairdressing Academy located nearby. Their crafted skyscraper
stilettos are worryingly close to giving way atop such unfamiliar
terrain (NEWS FLASH: "Four young women were rescued today after
spending three days trapped between the cobblestone gaps at Proud
Camden. The four had toppled over and fallen into the cracks on
Friday night only to be discovered when their desperate cries for
help could be heard on Monday morning. In other news....").
The chaps - on the whole, a well groomed and fresh faced bunch -
wear a post-shower glow under their untucked shirts with a
demeanour that suggests 'training' or 'practice' happened earlier
in the evening. Aesthetically speaking, the patrons of Proud
collectively display a glimpse at fashion about three years ago,
and there's something very endearing and nostalgic about that.
There's no pomposity and self-importance. Everyone is equal and all
feel at home in a converted stable house surrounded by hundreds of
familiar strangers. None of the above is meant as a negative
observation, just simply an unexpected one. It's refreshing to note
a Shoreditch vibe that exists without the grimy aloofness
synonymous with that East London territory. Proud Camden goes one
better than 93 Feet East by attracting names at either end of the
musical spectrum; the thin end represented by the likes of Pete,
Dizzee, Johnny, and those crazy Kooks.
There's so much to love about Proud. Such as the artistic
integrity that comes from hanging early AC/DC B&W prints on the
wall as the gaiety of a Saturday night trundles past in a blur of
impressively straight blonde hair and entertainment variety (music,
pool, theatre, comedy). Sooooo, the drinks can seem a bit pricey,
but the selection is tidy and so is the entry price. Plus, ladies,
the toilet queue is almost non-existent, which I'm guessing must be
a good thing.
If you're wise - which, if you're planning to visit Proud, you
clearly are - the time to arrive is around early o'clock. This is
because it not only avoids the ignominy of queuing with the very
late PM riff raff, but it also affords you the opportunity to catch
one, two, maybe even three rather excellent live bands.
Overall, as iconic as the legends that adorn its walls. It
should very proud of itself. A for effort and likewise for
achievement.
Christian Rose-Day (30 09 2009)
http://www.fluidfoundation.com/Proud_Camden_NW1.Bar_Club