Going to Matter reminded me of going to Disneyland. It’s huge, the staff are freakishly friendly and its reputation precedes it so much that everyone tells you how good its going to be. Like Disney it is also, ultimately, all a bit of a let down.      



Design-wise, it’s a triumph. Walking past the 02 Arena then down a fluorescently lit pathway lends a sense of gravitas to the whole occasion, giving the impression that you are going to be riding on-ahem- Space Mountain rather than sharing a dance floor with a bunch of gurning Essex boys and peroxide-heavy, pouting tarts.

      

Inside, it lives up to its superclub (meta) tag.  Industrial minimalism is the order of the day- lots of exposed walls, and shiny metal walkways that are all very now and solid looking enough to deal with the bass that comes thundering up through the dancefloor.  On these walls flash an array of impressive pupil dilating visuals; my favourite was the Matrix-esque rows of numbers that were dancing across the faces of the crowds raving to Yousef.

     

The cavernous main rooms dance floor is flanked by Coliseum style rows of seats that become full of sweaty gyrating punters as the evening wears on, bringing to mind, perhaps fittingly, a branch of Jumpin Jaks. A lack of seating is a trend throughout the club; if you are not in the VIP room with its leather booths full of big-collared City Boys blowing 2 weeks wages on a bottle of Smirnoff, you are in serious trouble unless you want to be standing up all night.  There are some seats round the edge of the dancefloor in the smaller Room 2 but, as is to be expected, these become full pretty quickly and people seemed pretty unwilling to snuggle up in the cuddly come-‘ere-you manner I have become accustomed to in dance clubs.

      

Like the not-so-Magic Kingdom, matter also struggles under the weight of being full of undesirables. Not the nacho-fuelled armies of wobbly Americans or packs of sunburnt lagered-up Scousers but, put simply, a bunch of absolute c*nts. Unlike Fabric which, despite its consistently impressive line-ups is renowned for its friendly non-elitist atmosphere, matter seemed to be full of people that were there to see and be seen. City boys, r n’ b girls and expensively coiffeured media types abounded everywhere, scowling and seemingly unimpressed with my attempts to have a good time. It was a shame, and served to put a dampener on the evening, a dampener that was only topped by the journey home.

     

Leaving at 3 to be faced with a 50 person queue for taxi’s, me and my badgered companion were forced to get the river taxi which, though an interesting diversion, was nowhere near zippy enough and simply led us to disembarking at Tower Bridge and hanging around for a taxi in the four o clock chill.  This was the final straw.  An hour and a half journey home, no matter what you’ve imbibed, is enough to put anyone off returning.  As much as matter is impressive and a thoroughly 21st century clubbing experience, it just has too much going against it to make it worth another trip.  If the ticket was free and I managed to wangle V.I.P tickets again I’d probably make the effort (if the music was good). Otherwise, in the future, I think I’ll just stick to Fabric.

Have you been to the new superclub? Do you agree? Let us know!

Posted In Features, Oct 01 2008. Words - David