Audio By Carbonatix
“Are you one of the beautiful people? Is my name on the list? I want to be with the beautiful people… I wanna feel like I’m missed…” Eels – “Guest List”
I went to high school with a kid named Greg Holman. His father was a painter named George, who lived in the old Expo Park space that later became the Bar of Soap.
George Holman was the first truly gifted intellectual I had ever crossed paths with; he was the one who showed me the true value of knowledge and information. He was also a guy who loved inspiring young people with his art. My friends and I would often pile into a car and drive down to Holman’s place to hang out, gobble some microdot, listen to him talk and watch the creation of his work.
One night, he told us about this French guy by the name of Philippe Starck. George detailed Starck’s relevance and introduced us to his sense of design aesthetic by showing us these bizarre catalogs he had brought back from overseas. I was a kinda young and dumb to be thinking about stuff like expensive European furniture, but Holman’s description of Starck’s creative approach made it seem really interesting.
George also mentioned that he was helping to bring this guy to Dallas to open a nightclub in an old brewery just northwest of downtown. For months afterwards he kept us up to date with details on the renovation of the building.
When the Starck Club finally opened in April of 1984, there was
something about the place that just didn’t appeal to me. Without ever
having stepped inside the building, I had already decided that it was
going to be filled with Cocaine Republicans. Not my crowd at all. I was
a 22-year-old dreadlocked kid who wore ripped jeans, pajama tops and
old black Chuck Taylor’s.
I wasn’t going to a snooty fuckin’ disco where Martian lizards were going to stand there and judge me at the front door.
A year later, I hooked up with Russell Hobbs and Theatre Gallery. We
were living in a dirty Deep Ellum loft without AC or heat, and going to
the Starck Club was the last thing on our minds. They were spending
millions on that place. We were scraping together fifty bucks every
night to buy a keg and a sleeve of plastic cups so our people would
have something to drink.
I distinctly remember resenting the Starck Club just because I knew they had badass air conditioning. Fuckers.
Then Starck co-owner Blake Woodall, general manager Greg McCone and
the beautiful scenestress Christina de Limur all showed up for the Red
Hot Chili Peppers and Karen Finley shows at Theatre Gallery. We hung
out a bit and became friends. Russell and I would venture over to The
Brewery every couple of months or so, and Vaal, George Baum and the
rest of the Starck door crew always treated us like we were part of the
show. They even let us sit on the side of the stage on the night that
Washington DC go-go group Trouble Funk dropped The Bomb.
After getting to know all of the people involved, I started to see just
exactly what George Holman had been talking about years before. The
Starck Club was the exact polar opposite of what we doing at Theatre
Gallery; we were a dirty performance space and they were a high-tech
dance hall. Still, all of us recognized that we were essentially in the
same business: providing a necessary liberal cultural diversion to a
very conservative and uptight city.
A few of us even lived to tell about it.
As we mark the 25th anniversary of the opening of the most decadent
and infamous nightclub in the history of our city, I have only one
question: Can anybody remember anything?
“Hey you, with the walkie-talkie/ I know my clothes are not right/ I
wish I had my own walkie-talkie/ that reached to God every night…“
Lisa Taylor (Dallas writer): “I was assigned by The Dallas Times Herald
to cover the opening in 1984. I remember ordering a Betsey Johnson
dress just for the event. I was gratified that I passed the doorman as
he was advertised as being a real hard ass. David Seeley was my date
and he was covering it for another publication. I do recall the great
bathrooms and the great videos from Dave Hynds and Suzy Riddle. I
danced the night away… ah the good ol’ days.”
Mark Ridlen (DJ Mr. Rid): “Starck Club was a pretty incomparable
union of high/low art and commerce–especially in our one-horse town.
In early ’84, I ran into one of the club’s tastemakers Sarah Yates when
my girlfriend lived at the Argyle apartments with (designer) Todd
Oldham. Sarah fondly remembered the mix tapes I made and asked me to
program music for the soon-to-be Mecca. Philippe Starck was also in
town, so I ushered him and Sarah to Metamorphosis and VVV Records, which
possessed the arty dance music the club would need for its library.
When it opened in ’84, I spun on various nights until DJ Phillipe
Krootchey could come over from Paris for his residency.”
Angus Wynne (promoter): “I booked Jack Mack and the Heart Attack for
a private party for the Davidson Racing Team on the night before the
club opened to the public. Unfortunately, they had to set up just above
the hole that the dance floor was in–and the only people who could see
them were those standing on the barriers around the hole. To make
matters worse, live music was always tragic in the joint because there
wasn’t a soft surface anywhere to baffle the audio, resulting in
absolute cacophony. Concrete and terrazzo made up the bulk of the
place, and the cotton drapes did absolutely nothing to abate the
profound echo that ricocheted around the room. Philippe Starck told me
that his original design was being sabotaged even before the opening,
after which he hightailed it out of town. I’m not certain, but I think
he never returned to his namesake after that.”
Darren Ryan (DJ/musician): “I was there to see Chris and Cozy/SPK
perform. It was a terrible venue for live music with giant columns in
the middle of the stage. I was underage back then, and they let me in
because I worked at Record Gallery and was on the guest list for those
shows. (Thanks Steve Stokes!) Don’t forget about Starck and the NYC
club kids connection, the whole Michael Alig gang. That’s kind of
interesting too. All that said, it was a fascinating place.”
Bart Weiss (On The Air/Video Bar): “I remember the video in the
bathroom by Suzy and David Hynds, including one of their baby daughter
Cecil with sugar being pored over her to the tune of ‘Sugar Sugar’; and
I remember waiting for Grace Jones; when they lost their dance permit,
and they did a version of The Sun City about not being able to dance.”
Joe Howington (VJ, Fallout Lounge): “After hitting up On The Air on
Lower Greenville, we headed downtown into an area of mostly abandoned
buildings. Under the mixmaster overpass and over unmarked railroad
tracks were the draped stairs of the Starck Club. I immediately knew I
was somewhere. Once inside, it was a whole other world to me. A Tuesday
night around 12:30 a.m. and the place was full of the most incredible
people I could have imagined. To this day, I recall a portly man in
pseudo-professional attire doing laps around the balcony of the dance
floor with what looked like a 12-foot-tall drag queen in full showgirl get-up
and roller skates. All I could think of was, ‘Where did all of these
people come from?’ My sense of style was forever altered.”
Amy Curnutt (model): “I was introduced to the Starck Club by my
hairdresser, Chip Woods of Looker Hair Group. Hairdressers were the
kingpins of the club. I was 17 and a model at the time, so this made it
easy to get in. It was always a fashion show. There were always great
shows. Book of Love was one I remember. The vibe in the club was always
electric. Like something was going to happen. And we all know it
eventually did.”
Greg Synodis (Lithium X-Mas): “Starck Club was this catalyst for
cultural vistas temporarily opening in Dallas. It was uniquely perched
at the nexus of money (which Dallas has always responded to), sin,
sexual politics, style, recreational chemicals, and strange new musical
hybrids. The Starck Club influenced people’s tastes and acceptance of
what was right or wrong, even on the west frontiers of Dallas. We were
now at the crossroads of a bigger cultural world than Dallas had ever
been exposed to, or guessed even existed.”
Mark Ridlen: “I loved the original door girl named Edwidge, who
would be doing the Watusi to my random mix one minute, and the next be
manhandling an unruly cokehead to the nearest exit. From my connections
to the inner sanctum, I found lasting jobs for some of my closest
friends throughout Starck’s lifespan. Dave Hynds and Suzie Riddle
procured and created all of the amazing video that was shown throughout
the club, as well as designed art and props for all of the club’s theme
nights and special events. My band Lithium X-Mas was conceived strictly
as a one-off party group for their Psychedelic Night in early ’85.”
Jeff K (DJ): “George Baum was working the door at Starck Club during
the late ’80s when we were both DJs at KNON. I had heard all about the
debauchery and decided to take George up on his offer to experience it
firsthand. About this same time I became interested in the profession
of club DJing, as well as radio DJing. On the decks at Starck Club was
a diminutive, rather shy DJ by the name of Mike DuPriest. Mike and I
became fast friends, taking me under his wing showing me the DJ ropes
and teaching me the art of beat mixing. Mike not only taught me how to
mix, but also educated an entire generation of Dallas DJs about house
music.”
Mike Graff (Course of Empire): “I remember going on a date with a
girl I met at the old On The Air video bar. I was really into her and
thought we were getting on. Then she blew me off for another guy who
was better looking and made great money working in the film biz. For a
week, I felt like shit and couldn’t let it go. The next weekend, I saw
him in the bathroom at the Starck Club making out with another guy.
Locked in passionate embrace, they kissed, tongues twisting. It should
have been clear to anybody that these two men were seriously in love.
(Then again, it might have just been some of that legal Ecstacy. Or,
they were just posing. In those days, even straight guys were desperate
to appear gay at The Starck Club.) Seeing that display in the bathroom
was a boon to my self-esteem. I checked my look in the mirror, teased
my sprayed-up, Setzer-like hair up further, went back out and danced
like a fool.”
It might be hard to imagine, but there was a time when the drug
Ecstasy was, indeed, still a legal drug. Everybody was doing it, maybe
even your Mom and Dad. It was the drug that straight people could take
and get their freak on. It was easy and clean, and all of the clubs in
town were making it available to their clientele.
The new drug made users drop their inhibitions and wanna fuck
anything with a pulse or driver’s license. Life had suddenly taken on
new meaning; everything was profoundly important and significant. It
was generally understood that if we could just get all of the world’s
leaders together in one room to drop a handful of X, they could hug it
out and there would never again be any war, famine or imposition of
will. At Starck Club, people were having sex with strangers in the
bathrooms, the private boudoirs and on the dance floor every single
night.
Everybody loved everybody.
AIDS and the criminalization of Ecstacy changed that dynamic dramatically.
Chris Motley (Club Clearview): “I don’t think there was ever a time I
was in the club that I wasn’t on X. That drug, that club, the time,
that music, those people… all unashamedly intertwined. In my mind,
there’s no way to separate any of the elements, including X, from any
of the others. Particular evenings that stand out to me include the
insanity of the after-hours Red Hot Chili Peppers show and the night
that Frankie Goes to Hollywood played the Bronco Bowl. The Chili
Peppers night is a haze of debauched fun, but after the Frankie party,
I distinctly remember emerging out of Starck to go home afterwards and
being horrified that dawn had already broken over the city. I felt like
a fucking vampire.”
Craig Depoi (Bartender): “The money was crazy and so were the drugs!
Every night I’d make 600 to 800 bucks. People would slide ten or
twenty hits of legal X across the bar in matchbooks. One night, Billy
Boots and I were working the round bar, and at closing time a guy named
Rick Candies gave us a thousand dollar tip on his charge card. Crazy
money, man! $50 and Honey Bees thrown in our tip jar all night long.”
Darren Ryan: “Let’s be honest, both the music and fashion were
highly questionable back then, and whether people like it or not,
Starck Club is defined by the drug Ecstasy. That whole club era is
about AIDS and drugs.”
“Everyone needs to be somebody/Everybody needs to find someone who
cares/ But I don’t if you know what I mean/ ‘Cause I’m never on your
list… I’m never on your list.“
Joe Howington: “As much as I liked hanging out on street corners and
warehouses later on in my scenester days, nothing ever compared to the
enigma of those early days at Starck. Subsequent clubs have always felt
faint in comparison. It was pure fantasy, like being at the MILK BAR
from A Clockwork Orange. Believe it or not, I was never really into X
or the drug thing there in general. I just liked the vibe.”
Katie Barber: “I remember being alone with Robert Plant in the
women’s restroom one night. I walked in and he was sitting on the
counter. We said hi to each other, and I said, ‘I have some really cool
pictures of you and Eric Clapton that were taken at Phil Collins’
recent wedding.’ He replied, ‘Wow, that was an incredibly small
wedding. How in the world did you get them?’ I explained that I knew a
woman who was a friend of Phil and his then-wife, Jill. She had
attended the wedding in a small town in England and had given me the
pictures. We had a nice ‘small world’ conversation before some meathead
guy came in and accosted him. We just kind of shrugged at each other
like, ‘Oh well…’ and said goodbye. His fame never came up. Lots of
famous people came into Starck back then, but before the club got
popular, the crowd there was way too cool to bother them. Don’t know
where that particular knucklehead came from.”
Juan Porrata (DJ): “One aspect of the Starck Club which is often
overlooked–due to the much-deserved adulation that DJ Rick Squillante
always received–is the fact that those final years with ‘Go-Go’ Mike
were so very influential for the burgeoning local rave/DJ community. I
recall hearing the elements of acid house in Mike’s set, which, at the
time, was brand new in Dallas. This was a new, emerging genre which
Mike championed; and he helped to mentor up-and-comers such as Jeff K,
who at the time was playing industrial and therefore helped change
Dallas radio; as well as other DJ’s who are still important today, such
as Redeye, Luke Sardello (Com:Plex), Robert Taylor and a host of
others.”
Christina de Limur aka “Sita” (co-founder of Starck Club): “The
early years of new wave were incredible, emotional, meaningful ballads–Rick Squillante was a true mixmaster. The techno phase was a little
cold and repetitive–thank God there was the early hip-hop (we had a
spot called Lizzard Lounge in the basement) to give it meaning once
again. Liza ‘Mad Doll’ Richardson was always giving it meaning with her
intelligent, saucy mixes. It was a lot of fun and a great time in
music!”
Jeff K: “England had its ‘Summer of Love’ in 1988; Dallas had it’s
great awakening that same year at Starck Club, when young and
impressionable club goers like Red Eye, Rob Vaughan, Cle Acklin, JT
Donaldson, DJ Merritt, Ronnie Bruno and DJ Daisy were first exposed to
the sound of Chicago house tracks by Frankie Knuckles and Fast Eddie,
Detroit Techno tracks from Derrick May and Juan Atkins alongside UK
Acid House artists like 808 State, S’ Express, Baby Ford and The
Beatmasters. Having come to Dallas from NYC, Mike DuPriest had the
knowledge of these records and understood the movement that was upon
us. Looking back on the history of house and techno music breaking in
America, you can point to the obvious cities; NY, LA, Chicago and
Detroit, but Dallas is also given credit… and much of that was due to
DuPriest. ‘Go-Go’ Mike (as he was known) was also blessed with the
skill and technique to phrase, mix and generate emotion unlike any DJ
I’d ever seen before. Prior to Starck, electronic dance music had never
made me cry. That final night of Starck Club with Mike DuPriest at the
helm, I wept like a child.”
When Decadent Dub Team was booked to perform an after-hours show one
weekend, we used the opportunity to really bring the noise. That was
probably the loudest show we ever played. It was quite strange to look
out from the stage and see your audience standing down at the bottom of
a staircase thirty feet below. And even though we didn’t go on until
2:45 in the morning, the crowd at Starck Club was just starting to
peak. Sweaty socialites ground their teeth and chain-smoked expensive
imported cigarettes; by the time we finished our set it felt like the
place was on fire… and this was a club that always kept the thermostat
at somewhere around 50 degrees.
It’s hard to imagine that it has been 25 years since the Starck Club
first provided safe haven for grown adults of both sexes to pee in
front of one another and dress like aliens. Along the way there were
drug busts and police raids; eventually the club closed down and then
re-opened under new management. There were suicides and overdoses, HIV
casualties and damaged relationships. Blake Woodall, like Russell Hobbs
before him, eventually had a spiritual awakening and embraced a life of
family and sobriety.
For each, there was a price to be paid for the commitment to wanton self-indulgence.
“Are you one of the beautiful people?/ Am I on the wrong track?/
Sometimes it feels like I made of eggshell/ It feels like I’m gonna
crack.“
In retrospect, it’s altogether possible that Philippe Starck
probably only saw the nightclub as functional showcase for his
furniture and design work. As Angus Wynne pointed out, the guy never
came back after that first week. Starck probably thought we were some
backwoods soap-on-a-rope motherfuckers. Of course, years later, he
signed on as a house designer for Target… wouldn’t ya know.
The
Enlightened Aesthetic Master is off on some trailer park shit now.
Regardless of how you choose to frame it, the Starck Club was an
interesting part of our cultural fabric during the ’80s and early ’90s.
For those who wholeheartedly embraced the hypersexual/pharmaceutical
lifestyle, the memory exists as something they would never dare tell
their kids about now.
What they don’t know won’t hurt ’em, right?
