Propaganda Sober

Partly out of curiosity, though mainly due to budgetary reasons, last Saturday I found myself in ‘Leeds’ Biggest Indie Night’ (hows that for propaganda?) without having touched a drop of alcohol.

Having stood in line without the warming effect of a beer jacket, I was then forced to part with the princely sum of five pounds.

Sober enough to devote all my attention to not freezing

I tried to go in with a positive attitude. I’d stick to water, or if I was feeling wild, Diet Coke. I wouldn’t be able to dance too enthusiastically without being intoxicated, but I could sing along to the two Arctic Monkeys songs they always play and generally laugh at those in Propaganda who actually were smashed. The novelty of being the only person you know to be sober wears off after about ten minutes. God, I need a drink.

The guest DJ was Huw Stephens from Radio One. On this Halloween themed night Huw seemed to possess a scary ability to turn an enthusiastic and lively crowd into a horde of shiftless zombies by killing the atmosphere, intercutting lively indie numbers with the theme from the Adams family or Goosebumps.

Aside from a small group of about six or seven, nobody really got the message that this was meant to be a Halloween night, including the organisers, whose budget for decorations must have been about a fiver. Two plastic ghosts hanging limply from the ceiling, clearly enjoying themselves as much as I was.

Photobombed by someone enjoying themselves

I don’t necessarily need alcohol to have a good time, but you can see why Propaganda has so many bars. The dance floor is pretty full, but the perimeter is often deserted, giving the whole place a very odd feel, like having a running track in a football stadium.  As I half-dance my way through The Vaccines, the temptation to go get a pint, and just sit on my own like the miserable git I am becomes ever more tempting.

To be fair to Propaganda, if you like twangy guitars and a soundtrack that makes you feel like you’re in an episode of Gavin and Stacey, you’ll probably have a great night. It’s better than going to a club for hours and not knowing what the hell they’re playing, but being sober surrounded by drunk people dancing like crazy can’t half make you hate The Fratellis.

People clearly going MENTAL for The Libertines

Upon leaving, I notice I’ve ‘unfortunately’ missed out on the chance to buy a hot dog from the cloakroom by the toilets, I guess that treat will have to wait for next time. Two people by the exits hand me Propaganda propaganda, advertising for the night I’ve just been to. I’ll think about it.