It's a long way to travel just to check out a nightclub. Barcelona is a twohour plane ride from Dublin, but if you were ever hit by the sudden urge to fly off to a European city and go dancing, you could hardly pick a better spot than the Catalan capital. Imagine: you're sitting in a Dublin superpub at 9 p.m., pondering the unpleasant prospect of Leeson Street later on; you leg it to the airport in time for a 10 p.m. flight, arriving in Barcelona at 1 a.m. (they're an hour ahead), and are firmly ensconsed on a sweaty dancefloor an hour later, which is when things really start getting going in the city's nightclubs. I haven't tried it, but I'm sure it's logistically possible.
Barcelona never shuts, except perhaps for a couple of hours in the afternoon; at night, this beautiful Mediterranean city is buzzing, and a party atmosphere permeates the medieval walls of the old town. Bars stay open until about 3 a.m., and clubs continue until 6 a.m. The drink is dirt cheap com pared with the extortionate prices in Dublin's nightclubs, and you don't need your coat in springtime, so no queuing for the cloakroom. Best of all, you won't have to wait an hour for a taxi, because you're not going home. Some places carry on past 6 a.m., the music merging into breakfast time, and there are any number of cafes and tapas bars where you can pop in and enjoy a post-clubbing repast. Here, archaic Irish licensing laws seem long ago and far away, which is why Irishman Donal Scannell and his Catalan girlfriend, Adriana Verges, decided to bring their club night, 3345, to Barcelona.
The usual home of 3345 is Dublin's Vicar Street, on the last Sunday of every month, and this inaugural away trip is a kind of electro-experiment, a prototype exchange of ideas between Dublin clubbers and Barcelona party people. It's also, naturally, a good excuse to party hard in one of Europe's liveliest cities. Arriba!
Named after the two standard speeds on a turntable record player, 3345 has become one of Dublin's most popular club nights since its inception last January. As the millennium dawned in Dublin, clubbers were alerted to this event by an elaborate booklet/flyer, which resembled the inner sleeve of a CD. The fact that it was run by the redoubtable Donal Scannell, well-known dance promoter and trendy lad-about-town, gave 3345 instant appeal, but the presence of a dazzling array of DJs, artists, filmmakers and multi-media types ensured a full house right from the off.
The Barcelona connection was established by accident. Four years ago, Scannell and his pal were going off on their holidays, but couldn't afford the fare to San Francisco. Instead, they decided to go large in Barcelona, and while there they met Aleix Verges, aka DJ Sideral, and his sister, Adriana. For Donal and Adriana, it was amor; for Dublin and Barcelona, it was the beginning of a new link.
The first club-cultural exchange between the two cities happened in Vicar Street last February, when Sideral headlined a Barcelona special alongside Ibiza legend Jose Padilla, and Barcelona-based Funk D Void, who runs one of the city's most popular club nights, ROW. Visual treats included a movie entitled Las Manos De Dios, an independent short film about Peter Crann, an Irish artist "just doing his thing" in Spain, whose vivid paintings form the visual core of this intriguing, beautiful film.
Following the success of 3345's Barcelona special, which had the punters sweating like a hot tomale, it seemed logical to have a return match in Barcelona, to give Catalans a taste of Irish club culture. It's not just an Irish-Catalan thing, though: the line-up for the first 3345 in Barcelona was an unlikely mix of UK DJ Paul Hartnoll, and Welsh singer-songwriter David Gray. "I don't know anybody who arranges their record collection according to nationality," explains Donal Scannell.
As one half of the hugely successful Orbital, Hartnoll can command crowds of up to 5,000 for his DJ sets; however, at Scannell's behest, he spun the decks in a small club, Salsitas, before an audience of just 250. Ditto David Gray, who flew straight from a successful US tour to perform solo in front of a modest crowd who had never seen him perform nor heard any of his records.
The event was split into two separate gigs: the early show, featuring David Gray, was held on the site of a disused pension deep in the heart of the Barri Gotic, Barcelona's Old Town. The address given was Deu Abaixadors, which is also the name of the venue, but finding it proved a difficult task. Barcelona's Old Town is a labyrinth of narrow, interlocking streets, hemmed in by high medieval walls. It's easy to get lost, but also lots of fun: there's always something around the next cobbled corner, whether its the Picasso Museum, a small gift shop, a massive cathedral or a bustling tapas bar.
There was no signage outside Deu Abaixadors, just a tiny door which led to a steep, granite staircase; at the top was a small, cardboard sign mounted on an easel, confirming the venue's existence, and telling the Spanish punters about the Welsh treat in store. e, and punters sat around tables while DJ Killian spun some mellow tunes.
I wasn't expecting much from David Gray, just a pleasant, folksy filler to kill time until midnight. As it turned out, however, Gray turned in a superb performance, keeping the Barcelona crowd rapt with unadorned renditions of songs like Please Forgive Me, Sail Away and This Year's Love.
"I had a bit of a problem with the sound, and an even bigger problem making myself understood, but I enjoyed it, it was great," said Gray afterwards. "It's a strange feeling to be coming off a successful American tour with the whole band, playing to big crowds every night, and appearing on Letterman and Conan O'Brien, then suddenly finding myself singing on my own in front of a small crowd, most of whom had probably never heard of me. My album isn't even available in Spain."
Gray rose to the challenge of Barcelona, however, because it was an opportunity to spend a weekend away with his wife, Olivia, and also a chance to make new fans in a new country. It worked for him in Ireland, where he is now a household name, so why not here?
"What happened with Ireland was a complete one-off," insists Gray. "I still have no idea why it took off so spectacularly for me in Ireland, but I know it'll never happen that same way again. I do believe, though, that once I get the chance to let people hear me play, then I can win them over."
Part two of 3345 began at midnight, in a nightclub called Salsitas, just off the famous Las Ramblas thoroughfare. Here, Paul Hartnoll was the headliner, with DJ Sideral and DJ Bass warming up. Local legend has it that before he became a DJ, Sideral was a colourful figure on the Barcelona scene, a stylish, outgoing trend-setter who attracted a dedicated following of fashionable clubbers. Some of the city's nightclub owners began to notice that wherever Sideral went, the in-crowd followed, and so, to ensure that he turned up at their club, they booked him as a DJ. He took to it like the proverbial duck to water.
"Two years ago, I could tell you exactly what young people in Barcelona wanted to hear," says Sideral. "But today, there's a mix of really young people, 18 and 19, and people in their 30s, and I don't know if they're just out for a laugh or if they want to hear something new. I just try to show them some new styles. This mix of Irish and Barcelona people really works, so I think we should keep doing it."
Sideral jets over to Ireland once a month to play a residency in the Kitchen, so you can be sure the Dublin in-crowd won't be too far behind. At Salsitas, you got the sneaky feeling that, if it weren't for Sideral's exuberant cheerleading at the end of Hartnoll's set, the Orbital bloke wouldn't have got such an enthusiastic response. However, Hartnoll acquitted himself well, spinning some tasty, psychedelic techno, playing tracks from the new, yet-to-be-released Orbital album, and dropping in his own techno remix of David Gray's Please Forgive Me.
Among the Irish contingent at 3345 are broadcaster Uaneen Fitzsimons, here to chill out in this most laid-back of cities; two journalists from new Irish men's magazine AMen, who are covering Barcelona's nocturnal wildlife for the titillation of the lads back home, and Lucy Healey-Kelly from Cork, who lives in Barcelona and works as an English teacher. Lucy (22) and two of her Irish friends came here last September, and are hoping to travel on to South America; for the time being, however, Barcelona provides them with all the creature comforts they need.
"We go out everywhere and anywhere," says Lucy. "There's a route of pubs that we tour every week, and we've established a routine by now. It's a very different lifestyle and it takes a while to get used to. At the start I was exhausted by 2 a.m. and went home to bed, but now we drink at home till about midnight, then go out and hit the pubs, and then a nightclub by 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. I don't take a siesta, but long lunch breaks and then take it very easy in the afternoons. We have a lot of Irish friends, of course, and they all come out for St Patrick's Day. There are about 10 Irish pubs in Barcelona, and they're all full on Paddy's Day."
As 3345 winds down, and we head towards that time between darkness and dawn which the Spaniards call madrugada, I sit with Donal Scannell and Adriana Vargas on the Ramblas and ask them why go to all that trouble to hold a club in Barcelona?
"For the same reason we do clubs in Dublin: there's a need," says Scannell. "Barcelona - like Dublin - is a great city, but there's not enough happening. It's a really great place, great people, great sunshine, great nightlife, great vibes. But there's just that extra bit missing. There's just not enough excitement here, and a city like this deserves more excitement.
"For us, Dublin and Barcelona have become a blur, and we take bits of Dublin and bits of Barcelona and put them together. And Barcelona is a wonderful city, but they don't get enough top quality international DJs mixing with the local DJs. Everything is like big, mad techno clubs, 1,500 people going crazy, but if you're into quality music at a more intimate level, there's nowhere for you to go. I love this city and I love coming here, but the big frustration for me coming here is like going aargh! Why isn't this happening? Why isn't that happening? So we had to do it.
`David Gray and Paul Hartnoll are kind of 3345 mates - if we just came off the street and said to Dave, hey, wanna come to Barcelona and play in front of 150 people, he'd go, sod off. But if you were to say to him, hey Dave, remember those gigs we did in Whelans six years ago with 150 people, let's do that again in Spain . . . And with Paul, he's in one of the biggest dance bands in the world, but he's not into really making loads of bread, he's just into doing his music . . . it's about doing a gig and having a laugh.
"Both Paul and Dave are two of the most principled people I know. They believe in the same things we would believe in, and they don't do stuff that's bogus. The mad thing is that Dave sold 100,000 records in Ireland - but tonight Dave was there, no roadies carrying his guitars, wrapping up his own leads after the gig. That's someone who isn't caught up in their own bullshit, someone who's not an egomaniac, someone who just believes in what they do. And it's important to preserve that."
It's 4 a.m., and time to head onto a club called The Fuse, which bizarrely, is reached by walking through a bakery. Inside, the floor is heaving to some funky, laid-back house music, not too strenuous, but not too mellow either. By 6 a.m., however, your intrepid party animal is starting to fade, so he heads back out through the bakery, picking up a chocolate croissant along the way, and calls it a night. Or a morning. Or whatever.
Back in Dublin, 3345 continues its residency at Vicar St tomorrow night. The line-up includes Ashley Beadle, Oisin Lunny and Razor, and the fun starts at 4 p.m. Sadly, until Dublin's licensing laws get their long-overdue overhaul, the party will have to end at 2 a.m. While you wait for that taxi to take you home, your thoughts might turn south towards Catalonia, where clubbers are still partying away to their Latin hearts' content, and you may ask yourself, why on earth can't Dublin be more like Barcelona?
Donal and Adriana are planning another hot Mediterranean night next June, so get talking to your travel agent. In the interests of journalism, I think I should be there too. It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it - all night long if necessary.
