Rent Boy

by James Anthony Ford

  It was a club where everyone was happy and there was rarely, if at all, any violence. The music was good. My only criticism is the odd ‘campy’ gay classic they threw in every now and then. But I guess they did that to remind people it is a gay club. But nobody cared. Everyone just wanted to dance and the straight guys just wanted a blowjob from drag queens hanging around the unisex toilets. Yes, I mean unisex, there were men’s and women’s, but everyone just used whichever one. It is quite funny really.

  “Mmmm…..those where the days!”

  The music was generally house, most deep house or garage. Garage music is a term that was developed in New York whee house music was played in warehouses; thus the ‘tern ‘garage’ was formed. It is basically house music, with a pumping beat, a bit funky and diva vocals.

  ‘Tasty’ was a late night club, so arrive before 12 am or even 2 am and you were not cool. This club pumped until 7 am, although at that time, sometimes the club was still packed so they kicked on. Sometimes until midday Sunday.

  Then of course, the infamous ‘Tasty Drug Bust’ happened. It was an event I will never forget. But were so lucky we were not caught up in it as we were so close. We just missed the raid by a heartbeat. In fact we were about to walk into the club, arriving earlier than usual. That was the ironic part as we never went out earlier than 12 am but that night we decided to.

  As we were walking up the back rear alleyway that led to the club entrance were hear faint scream of girls inside and we knew there was something wrong. We saw a few police outside the entrance. I was with Kim at the time and we both froze when the cops took a look at us approaching. Kim and I just looked at each other, said nothing and we ran for it. We knew what was going on and we wanted to no part in it. So we ended up going to the most ‘gayest’ club in Melbourne; ‘The Peel’. Yeah, well, I have had some good nights at ‘The Peel’ but it is too campy for me. So I guess I will leave that one there.

  ‘The Mansion’ was a great place when it first opened. It was neither gay or straight in the beginning, that is. I should point out that all these ‘cool’ clubs really did not care about if you were gay or straight. This club was one were you dare not turn up to until after 3 am, if you wanted to be seen as ultra-cool that is. The music was great. Deep house that soon developed into hard house with pumping bass-lines and rocking tunes. The house music here had a bit more of a techno edge to it. But then there were a couple of other rooms such as the VIP room and the chill-out room with more soothing deep house and garage.

  Then ‘The Mansion’ was invaded. The Bogans, or what we called the ‘Straight-straights’ from hell. That is ‘heterosexual’ that were very homophobic. Homophobia in club land, cool club land, that is, was not tolerated and was seen as very uncool is you were homophobic. Yes, it is stare, but it was true. I don’t know if that is the case in clubs now as it has been a while. My clubbing days are over, thank god.

  But anyway ,the ‘straights’ from the mainstream clubs found out about our piece of clubbing paradise and moved on in with their alcoholic breath and picking random fights with clubbers. Then our clubbing macro-social world got put off by them and people just stopped going there. Soon it got closed down. Typical Bogans, always spoil it for everyone. Or perhaps that is the result of alcohol? So thank you homophobes for stealing ‘our’ territory!

  ‘Milk Bar’ was a bit of a flash in the pan but the music was okay. It was more of a gay club with even more ‘campy’ gay anthems, so we usually made a quick appearance there before moving onto the next club.

  ‘Savage’ was a great club in the beginning. It was large club and anything that could happen, usually did. Everyone was happy and just dance their heads off! Then again, it was spoilt. The invasion of the straights. It always happens. A cool club develops, the word gets out and because they can’t behave like a human being in their pathetic alcohol fuelled clubs they invade our space. Idiots and losers! There you go; that was my little vent. But you can ask any ‘real’ clubber during that time and they will tell you exactly what I said.

  Now my fondest memories were my infinite days, not nights, at the saucy, sweaty, dark and dodgy (in a good way) recovery club called ‘Uranus’. This was run by the same guys from the ‘Tasty’ nightclub. It was cool with a capital ‘C’. This was club with a super underground atmosphere. The music pumped with DJs like Gavin Campbell, a Melbourne local DJ, playing the funkiest and hottest hard garage and tech house-it pumped and rocked the house down all Sunday. It was the ultimate in underground hard-core clubbing. It was dark, with minimal lighting and a dance-floor that vibrated with the pumping beat of the music. It was sex on the dance-floor.

  Then we can’t go past the annual dance parties and raves which were events we looked forward to. These were parties that took us weeks to plan for, like outfits, intense gym workouts to pump your body up, strict diet to make you super healthy reading to fill your body with recreational drugs. The best of Melbourne’s parties were two of the gay one such as ‘Red Raw’ in January and ‘Winterdaze’ in June every year.

  ‘Red Raw’ rocked every time and I had the wildest times of my life that was non-stop partying from midnight Saturday until Monday! The party was held in a Warehouse on Melbourne’s docklands. Now that has all gone; a bit sad really to see it go. After the party, that usually ended by 10 am, were recovery party after recovery party.

  Then we looked forward to the rave called ‘Every picture tells a story’. This was a rave that was held in a secret warehouse and had several rooms playing all sorts of techno and dance-all underground. You had the main room that saw the likes of huge name DJs like Derrick Carter and DJ Sneak. Then there was the house room that absolutely pumped! This was tech house at it utmost best. House and Garage DJ Liz Millar was fantastic, always managing to get bodies moving to the funky beats on the dance floor.

  Some of Melbourne’s top house and techno DJs played at these ultimate places of party paradise with DJs like Richie Rich that played very sexy dirty tech-house.

  Then there was the jungle room playing drum and bass music. The chill-out room and the trance room, playing trance music (obviously) Trance was not my favourite as I found it a bit trippy and boring. It is basically toned down techno, but that’s just my opinion.

  There were always parties and rave every weekend. It was infinite and it was basically my life for a good ten years. It was all about the clubs, parties, sex and drugs and….you know what? But ultimately it was actually about the music. The music is what kept the sub-culture alive.

  In Melbourne we had the privilege of experiencing top international DJs that headed up parties and clubs. Some of my favourites was Ralph Falcon (from an house group called ‘Funky green dogs’; you are probably reading this and wondering what on Earth is this guy on about? But that’s underground house for ya!) Ralph Falcon played at ‘Freakazoid’ one night and it went off! He played dirty, sexy house and you just couldn’t sit down.

  Another fave is Derrick Carter who played at the rave, ‘Every Picture..” Frankie Knuckles who is a top house and garage DJ. Danny Tenaglia who plays sexy, deep house with a tribal house beat.

  I recall Judge Jules from the UK playing house and Garage at ‘Savage’ nightclub and that place rocked until 10 am. Satoshi Tomie from Japan played at the ‘Milk Bar’, playing deep tech house. Danny Rampling, a house DJ from the UK played at a club that I can’t remember where. Then other big name DJs in the scene came into Melbourne like David Morales (USA), Danny Rampling, Paul Oakenfold, Deep Dish (they rocked!), Pete Tong….of look the list goes on and on. Even Boy George made his DJing debut at ‘The Carousel ‘nightclub in Melbourne. That was a weird experience. Firstly it was held in a very ‘ordinary’ straight club that we did not really see as cool or gay-friendly. Then when Boy George DJed, everyone on the dance floor just stood there and watch him. Nobody danced, they just started at the ex-Culture club singer DJing. It was quite surreal and Boy George didn’t appreciate it. I don’t blame him. It was hilarious when he got sick
of the so-called ‘clubbers’ ( all on alcohol, mind you) yelled out;

  “What are you all fuckin’ starin’ at?......Dance!”

  I could have applauded him and good on him I say. But I think it was because everyone found it a bit of a parody that Boy George was a DJ. I think that is ridiculous and I just wished everyone just danced and stop looking at him like a caged animal in a zoo. But Boy George was serious about his DJing and he was not too bad either. I would not say world class, but he played some good house tunes.

  So there you have it. House music is not just dance music. It is not just club music. It was, and probably stil is; a way of life. It was a sub-culture. If you were a ‘real clubber, that is, a true ‘cool’ clubber, then you had to understand the genre’s of house. House is not just house. There is deep house, tech house, garage, Chicago house, Detroit house, dirty house, tribal house, and so on. Each genre of house have their distinctive elements that defined them so. It is very much an art or a craft and the finer the house in a club, the ‘cooler’ it is.

  It all may sound so pretentious and superficial, but it is not. Underground clubbing is ‘real’ clubbing. Mainstream clubs that try so hard to be cool (I won’t mention names) get it wrong by over-promotion. They key to a ‘cool’ club was the ‘Shhhh’ factor. But most of all, you just play it cool, understood the music and the sub-culture, respect one another and have fun.

  As yourself the question why there is so much violence in the clubs on King Street in Melbourne and hardly any in dance parties, raves or the underground clubs that were only promoted through word of mouth or flyers in trendy shops and cafes. I am not saying that I condone the use of recreational drugs, but alcohol is a bigger problem. Never did I see a fight break out in the clubs we went to. There was hardly a sad face in sight and everyone just loved each other, even if it was for just one night. Now what’s the harm in that? I know, I have made a controversial point here but it makes sense. The sense is that it up to the individual to be responsible, not stupid. Sure we partied hard. But we also knew what we were doing even if we were totally high as kites. Enough said.

  It is all about the music baby! It was just the little ‘pills’ that ‘enhanced’ the experience.

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  Chapter nine........Four Parties and Almost a Funeral

  Like a rocket I raced up to the age of 24 or 25 and still living life in the fast lane. Quite often my mother would leave numerous messages on my voicemail at home, trying to contact me just to say hi. It would take me days sometimes weeks before I got a chance to call her back and she was always worried about me. My mum knew I would be okay but like a typical mum she always worries about her boys. She still does today. She’s just a mum and I love her but at times got a bit crowding and she got a little annoyed that I don’t call her enough. But it’s true, I have always loved my mum but I had my own life. To a point, my mum realised I had my own life and tried to respect my individuality but sometimes just like a mum, she just worry’s too much.

  At this stage in my life there were some exciting times ahead. The gay and lesbian Mardi Gras in Sydney was coming up in March and I had never been. I asked a couple of friends who I knew were going and basically invited myself. They didn’t say no but they didn’t sound that excited that I was coming with them. I guess they just couldn’t say no to me.

  So March arrives and we headed up to Sydney for the Mardi Gras. This was my first Mardi Gras but ironically it was just like I expected. All sequins, sparkles, drugs, sex, drugs, sex and some drugs and some more sex. I am not one for wearing sequins or hotpants but this seemed to be all the rage with gay men in Sydney at this time of year. I will be honest and say that the Mardi Gras was not exactly the best party I had ever been to but it was fun. I guess I had high expectations and those expectations were not met. Don’t get me wrong, I had a blast but the Sydney party scene does not have any underground sexy feel to it. It just felt very commercial and a bit common. Perhaps I am being fussy. I prefer the underground atmosphere of a club. But all in all, Sydney for me is just waaaaay too bloody gay for me!

  ………………………………..

  Upon arrival back in Melbourne and feeling good to be home, my housemates of course asked me how the party was and my response was “well, I’m still a bit trashed but.......ho hum.....”. It was a good and fun party but was........I don’t know....a bit beige, it’s hard to explain. I just don’t think I’m a Sydney person I’m a Melbourne boy and always will be.

  Once I got back into the swings of things again, you know, studying and working and still going out and stuff, I realised I wanted something more. By this point, amongst all the parties and getting trashed I had done just about every course known to man. I started a sound engineering course, got bored after a few weeks, gave it up, started a remedial massage course, thought it was not for me, so gave it up and I also started a fashion design course, and gave that up too after a month or so. I think I was just confused about my direction in life and was too focussed on my image and having a good time. I think Mardi Gras was a good experience as it made me realise “Is this it? Is this was partying is just about? Maybe I’m doing this all wrong?” So during a coffee break I had a chat to Kim and Stav. “Let’s take a trip together” I said enthusiastically. “Yeah, like a road trip” Stav jumped in. “Uhhh, noooo....that’s not what I was thinking about, more like an overseas trip” I said with a serious look on my face. They all went silent like I just opened Pandora’s Box or something, it was weird. Their instant response was, no-can’t afford it. “Fine, I said, I’ll go on my own” I said. I didn’t care. I had no fear. I had been overseas before. I don’t need my friends to hold my hand. Fuck them! I’ll go on my own. And I did. I didn’t even inform my mum that I was going overseas for 2 weeks. I just went. It was spontaneous. This is where my problems really started. My credit cards got a real workout. It was my spontaneity that was scary. What was it that I would do next? My friends just watched me board the plane with a slight look of disapproval and thought that I was heading into trouble. They knew that my partying habits have taken control of me and they just kept right out of my way. They knew I getting out of control but they were too afraid to say anything. They just wanted me to learn the hard way as they knew they could not tame me. I was seeking attention. I was seeking that same feeling of a unique dirty sexual fantasy like that time with the footballer. I was seeking that same burst of euphoria when I had an ecstasy pill for the first time. I was chasing the dragon with a real pretentious attitude. I thought I was ‘it’, I am the one other guys wanna be like, I’m ‘the’ party boy’ and I am immortal. I think about it now and say “What a load of crap! What was I thinking?” But at the time, I didn’t care, I was going to Ibiza!

  So I arrive in Ibiza and on my own. It was just me and my backpack. I was not a big fan of the backpacking style of travel, even though I took one to Ibiza. Even when I did a little backpacking with my cousins on my first trip to Europe, we still stayed and lived in luxury. I never will do the youth hostel thing. If I travel, it was and still is, in style and in luxury. I won’t stay in any hotel under 4 and a half stars. So the strange looks I got when walking in a Hilton style hotel in Ibiza with a backpack on my back was quite comical to say the least. So yes, I’m a travel snob, always have been. Somehow all my excitement led to complete fear. I was all alone and in a foreign land. Everyone there, mainly British tourists, seemed to be with their own group of friends. Except me. But for some reason I didn’t get any weird looks or anything. I fit in well with the ‘clubby’ sort of crowd. So I went out at night, alone and raring to go. I thought of John Travolta and strutting my way to the club of the island, Ministry of Sound. This was one super club. Foam and all! Ecstasy was everywhere and access to any drug was aplenty. This was a clubbers paradise, but with a touch of the odd alcoholic violence event or two! I met a lot of people and got a lot of complements
for the way I danced and the way I looked. I fed off that praise. Quite pathetic really.

  I got friendly with a group of Swedish people, two guys and two girls. They were straight but loved gay people and I didn’t really make it obvious that I was gay either. I tended to prefer the company of straight but gay friendly people and these people were really cool. I got along with them so well and we hung out alot. They eventually asked me if I wanted to go Mykonos with them. I was only too excited to go and quickly re-arranged my flights home and stuff so I could go with them. So we went to Mykonos, a ‘clubby’ sort of Greek Island and a bit more gay friendly. We only spent a couple of days there, sleeping on the beach by day and clubbing by night.

  The two weeks of party paradise flew by like a complete blur. I was home back in Melbourne with a sore back, sore throat, and a very, very tanned body. I still have the speedo tanlines to prove it. But it did not take me long to get over the post-holiday depression. I got back into normal reality soon after, only because I had to make a living somehow but I wanted more than that. I felt greedy even after maxing out all the five credit cards I had, I felt I had to satisfy other urges. Strangely enough my so called friends did not even ask me if I had a good time overseas or anything. I don’t think they cared. Upon return to Melbourne I ended up calling mum and saying “oops! I forgot to tell you I went overseas, sorry, I’ll send you a postcard next time”. Mum just laughed and dismissed any thought of disappointment. I think she knew the fact that I was growing up and just being a normal twenty something year old. But I was not normal, never was. I think my friends at the time thought they would leave me to my own devises. The fact is that they really could not keep up with me. I think about now what was going through my mind at that rebellious age and I think I was living in denial. My life was so superficial and I say that because I think i was trying to always impress someone. I always felt like someone was watching me and I had to project the right image. I wanted to be admired and I wanted to be talked about and be controversial. The reality was, I was trying to cover up my abusive past and trying to make up for the fun times I may have missed out on as a child. I wanted to be loved and hated. It may sound like a contradiction but it made sense. The fact is, is I wanted admiration yet be untouchable. I was so pretentious but still putting on a persona that I was masculine. I was almost ashamed to call myself gay. I preferred to be known as ‘a guy who just likes guys’. I also had a self image problem and did not realise it until now. Even though I tried so hard to look good and even got a lot of compliments, I still believed I was ugly. The amount of money I had invested in skin care products, designer fashion and hair care products is monumental. I am still not sure if it was worth it all.