Itchy Feet

Increasingly options for nightlife can sometimes feel like a choice between the same old sugary auto-tuned floor fillers and ear shattering DnB. I appreciate some people have a serious passion for these things but I get bored of dancing sarcastically and struggled to even pronounce the line up for Rudimental.

In contrast the refreshingly danceable old school vibe of Itchy Feet is fairly unique for playing music that’s defiantly cool while remaining entirely accessible. Too many nights out at Life revolve around the two for one cocktail deal, but for once last night it was all about the music. This ‘homeless party’ offers a remedy to anyone feeling too familiar with the lyrics of ‘Call Me Maybe’ with an eclectic mix of blues, soul, funk, ska and anything else with the right retro credentials.

With the only competition on the night being the Cindies playlist on loop, students jumped at this termly chance to get down to some James Brown. The night was a sell out well before doors opened and we arrived to find a healthy queue of smug ticket holders and a somewhat sadder looking group of people being turned away. Those who got in made every penny count, throwing wide and often perilous shapes across the floor.

The regrettable migration of the night from the Junction to everyone’s favourite Waterstones basement was made up for to a large degree by the best music coming out of those speakers in months. As Ray Charles, Chuck Berry and Bill Haley bounced off the walls the only reason to stop moving was to regret not wearing more robust shoes.

While clubbers across the nation were giving in to the temptation to awkwardly bounce on the spot, anyone not giving it everything at Itchy Feet looked slightly out of place. This led to a sublime showcase of Cambridge dancing talent and more than one self inflicted tumble.

However the enthusiastic crowd became sparser towards the bar and while this let everyone order drinks at their leisure you couldn’t help feel that a few more tickets could have been sold. The contrast between the crammed area in front of the DJ booth and the mostly empty seating area is a testament to the DJs ability to make people get up and dance but in reality left the place feeling a bit empty.

While a lot of people I spoke to gushed about how much they’d always loved soul music, the general atmosphere of a shit pub created by the fruit machines and carpet wasn’t quite shaken off. Furthermore towards the end of the night the track choices became a little less inspired.

Perhaps because of this, the place began to thin out well before the official end time of two thirty. This implied a slightly underwhelming night for some but a handful of stragglers at the end, quite clearly loving life, makes me doubt Itchy Feet will have any trouble selling out next time they hit Cambridge.