The Leland City Club is the first club I ever went to, and quickly went on to become the nighttime place that I unashamedly call home.  City Club’s not like any place else, for better or worse.

The club is ancient (it’s been open since the 1980s), and single-purpose.  It exists at the whim of the Leland Hotel’s owner, which means both that it does not particularly need to make money, and that it can be only one thing.  City Club is only open Fridays and Saturdays (and occasional holidays), and only as a goth-industrial club, unlike most other nightclubs which rotate through different-themed nights during the week.  As a result, the place has a comfortably shitty, lived-in feel to it.  There’s a good chance that it’s haunted, and the condition of the building mirrors the decay of Detroit in spite of recent minor renovations.  And in a way, that’s part of its charm.  If the speakers didn’t occasionally short out, if the heat worked on twenty-degree December days, it somehow wouldn’t be quite the same place.  More than one regular calls it “Shitty Club,” but they still keep showing up, generation after generation of punk, goth, rivethead, cyber, electro, lolita and emo kids.  Gay, straight and anywhere in between are present and welcome.

City Club’s big.  Here’s the nickel tour:  you enter through an unmarked door in the back of the building, climb a set of dilapidated stairs (note that there are no railings on them any more, something that you’ll want to keep cognizant of if you plan to be leaving intoxicated) and push your way through a set of carwash-style plastic flaps.

At the door, you’re frisked, mostly for drugs and weapons.  It’s Detroit, after all, and there are crazy people out there.  It may seem a little bit invasive (you won’t be allowed to bring in a camera, a weapon or wear dangerous-looking spikes) but the result is that the club is safe on the inside, and that’s what counts.  Immediately in front of you is a frequently-changing open area that’s one of City Club’s four primary socialization spaces.  On our last visit, it had been set up with a pair of opposed couches on one side, and an L-shaped homemade chaise lounge/futon that I call the “pillow ship” on the other.  Furniture at City Club has a relatively short shelf life, leading to frequent replacements and redecoration.  To the left as you come in are the vending machines (cigarettes and candy) and coat check.

Proceed forward and you’re between the bar and the bathrooms.   This narrow space is, much to the frustration of the security staff, the second major socialization area.  The wall across from the bar has a mural on it, and it’s perfect for leaning up against and chatting.  Anita and Marvin, the current bartenders extraordinaire, are on hand behind the glass-block counter to take drink orders.  Décor in this section of the club is also mutable; most recently there are plastic skeletons and military camouflage netting hanging from the ceiling, which lacks a drop ceiling so the HVAC ducts and wiring are all visible.  At the far end of the bar, you’ll often see local scene fixtures like the Latex Twins or luminaries from the Detroit Gothic Network (DGN) hanging out.  In the summer, this is partly because there’s a small air conditioner at that end of the bar, or at least that’s where it used to be.  In the winter, City Club is cold inside, and that’s just how it is.  Recent repairs have improved the heating situation, but it’s still going to be cold.

City Club’s bathrooms are just like most club bathrooms, except with a tendency to malfunction.  At least once every two months the water stops working in one restroom or the other, or in both.  At least once a year, some angry drunk will rip out one of the sinks, toilets or bathroom stalls in the men’s room (the urinals have never been molested; apparently they’re tougher than the other fixtures).

Continuing past the bar, you’re in the third socialization area, consisting of tables and benches on both sides.  It’s dimly lit, with the only illumination usually provided by candles on the tables and a ceiling-mounted television that is as likely to be playing a bootlegged new release as it is hentai, and it’s just quiet enough to hold a conversation if you raise your voice.  City Club’s not overtly spooky, but the building’s general mien of decay and the abundance of dark corners create an atmosphere that suits the mood of the average spooky kid quite nicely.

Did I mention that this space will be choked with smoke in a variety of flavors?  Detroit’s goth scene is populated heavily with chain smokers.  Guests with tender lungs should be aware; in spite of its size, City Club’s a secondhand smoke farm.

By this time you’ll be able to hear the dance floor, which is around a couple of corners yet.  The dance floor is straight ahead, but the entryways are staggered so you have to turn left and then right.  The small hallway that this layout creates is where the DJ booth is (you’ll approach it from the back side) and is the club’s fourth socialization space.  It’s loud, but folks hold shouted conversations here nonetheless.  Many of the long-time regulars hang out in this area, as it’s one of the brightest spaces of the club, and the high traffic makes for good people-watching.  City Club’s elite will be able to tell you where Coffey’s Corner and Chad’s Chair are, and where Mark often puts his incense.

Finally, you reach the dance floor, the fifth and final circle of City Club.  Housed in what was once a ballroom popular with Detroit mobsters, City Club’s dance floor is cavernous compared to that of the average club.  The murals on the walls change about once a year, on average.  The most recent repaint hasn’t been particularly popular, though the blacklights and bench seating along the walls are much appreciated.  Massive speakers mounted at each corner of the room are far from cutting-edge, but what they lack in quality sound they make up for in quantity.  The dance floor itself is tile, and the regulars know how infrequently and indifferently it gets cleaned, which is why we wince when an enthusiastic break-dancer puts his hands or head on it.  At the far end of the dance floor, a raised stage provides another seating area.  Sometimes it’s used as a VIP area for special events, but most nights anyone can hang out up there.  It provides a decent view of the dance floor, as well as yet another dark corner, but if you try to have sex up there they’ll kick you out.

It’s hard to describe what’s special about City Club’s dance floor, because it’s not exactly tangible.  Objectively, the club is a shithole.  But from an emotional standpoint, once you swim past the human drama that’s smeared all over any club, City Club’s got a feeling of being more than just a place.  It’s the difference between a building being a house and being a home, and whatever that X-factor is, City Club has it.  Regulars, newbies and tourists alike seem to recognize this once they hit the dance floor.  The masterful thing about this club is that nobody cares.  City Club’s just not that judgmental, as a whole.  You can be gothed to the nines, or just wearing a polo shirt and jeans, and once you get out to the dance floor it’s clear that whatever your thing is (unless you want to slam-dance), you can just go for it.  Can’t dance?   Doesn’t matter.  Nobody’s watching anyway; they’re paying attention to whoever’s in the mood to show off.

City Club’s playlist consists of a steady diet of industrial, synthpop and danceable goth, with a sprinkling of powernoise and electro.  To put that in plain English, this means that you can expect to hear VNV Nation, Combichrist, Rotersand, Depeche Mode, Apoptygma Berzerk, NIN, Stromkern, Covenant and Faderhead almost nightly.

I had the good fortune to chat with resident DJ PleasureKatzen recently about the Detroit goth/industrial scene.  She spins most Fridays and some Saturdays, and I am almost always in attendance, trying to hurt myself on the dance floor.

Looking for Strange:  You’ve been a part of the Detroit scene for, well, just about always.  Can you give me a rundown of your DJ-ing history?

Pleasurekatzen:  I started my DJ career at IGUN in Bowling Green, Ohio alongside DJ Darks Choir and The Gothfather. about 8 years ago. Since then, I’ve been very fortunate to dj in cities throughout the Midwest such as Toledo, Cleveland, Dayton, Sandusky, Chicago, Ann Arbor and of course Detroit. I’ve had the privelege of working with many talented musicians, including Martin Atkins of Pigface/Invisible Records, Seabound, and Blaqk Audio- to name a few. I also am a part of Darque Productions. DP is a great group of people working together to bring electro/industrial/ebm/gothic/darkwave shows to the Detroit-area. Being a part of this group has given me a rather unique perspective on what exactly it takes to facilitate and produce a live show, as well as allowed me to work firsthand with a lot of musicians and artists that I have the utmost respect for.

LFS:  It often comes as a surprise to Detroit natives who venture to other scenes that City Club is internationally known.  What do you think makes it different from other clubs, for better or worse?

PK:  I think that City Club has gained a lot of its infamy and notoriety from the atmosphere, as well as how long the club has been open and catering to the underground scene. It quite literally is one of the largest as well as longest running clubs in the US.

LFS:  What’s popular in the past few months, request-wise? What are people always asking to hear? And what are you sick of playing?

PK:  Detroit is a very odd city as far as patron requests go. Clubgoers seem to get into cycles with their requests; one month, they want nothing but old-school, the next theres a craving for nothing but new. Recently, I’ve gotten the most requests for bands like Modulate, Shaolyn, Combichrist, tempered with a lot of older Depeche Mode requests.

I think one of the “hazards of the trade” for DJ’s is the risk of getting burned out on new music quicker than the average club patron, especially if you DJ multiple times a week as the requests tend to be generally similar.  Are there songs I’d rather never spin again thanks to chronic overplay? Of course. I’m sure you can fill in some of the blanks

LFS:  If you had the chance to spin anywhere, just once, where would it be?

PK:  DJ’ing for a nearly sold-out room at St. Andrews was probably one of the coolest experiences in my life, but playing one of the larger overseas festivals (ie: M’era Luna) might just knock that out of the number one spot!

LFS: It seems like the Detroit scene is very large–big enough to support multiple club nights, which many cities can’t–and yet there’s not much interaction between the various venues.  Any thoughts on why this is?

PK:  While Detroit does have a rather sizable scene presence, I think a lot of what’s been happening in the past few years boils down to economics. Right now, Michigan has the highest unemployment rate in the country. People are losing their jobs and as a result- their homes- every day. A lot of patrons don’t have the cashflow to go out multiple nights a week, AND hit every scene-related concert that comes through town. A lot of the scene regulars have moved to other states in search of work or better opportunities, which you certainly can’t blame them for. There also seems to be an underlying competitive edge that sparks the occasional controversy between venues, which I think is one of the silliest things ever. We need to be working together, not against each other! When you combine all of these variables, I think that the Detroit-area has a genuine disadvantage when it comes to facilitating larger gatherings on a more regular basis. Would I ever give up on this city? Of course not. It’s my home and I love it. I think that more of the area club promoters and DJ’s need to start thinking outside the box… or coffin when it comes to promotions and getting new artists and music the exposure they deserve.

Photo credits:  Lex Machina shot the exterior of the Leland.  Sara G is responsible for the photo of me inside the club, and Pleasurekatzen’s headshot was provided by the DJ herself.