A hard-hitting exposé of the club scene during the celebrated rave era in 1990s Britain, Clubland UK is a story of violent men and the worlds they inhabit. At the height of the hedonistic ’90s rave era, Steven McLaughlin policed some of Blackpool’s busiest seafront clubs on chaotic nights, as the virulent dance and drug craze exploded onto the scene. From the front line, he witnessed the dark underbelly of clubland culture and the predatory menace lurking beneath the smiley-face T-shirts, pilled-up clubbers, and frantically waving arms. He saw people revel in it; he saw people excel in it; he saw people profit in it; and he saw people suffer in it. Because sometimes being "a face" in clubland demands the highest price of all. From small-town gyms to big-time steroid dealers, from martial-arts myths to back-alley fights, door wars, and gang grudges in Britain's gaudiest seaside town, Clubland UK is a story that takes the reader into a twilight world where testosterone, brotherhood, ego, and a warrior mentality all collide in a bruising mess. This book is a must-read trip into the dark side of the dance decade, a roller-coaster ride of pills and blood-spilling thrills, where agony and ecstasy coexist in a blurred neon blaze.
Very misleading this book! The claims of being "on the door in the rave era" might be true except this book has no mention of it at all.
The blurb on the back talks about "Pilled up clubbers and smiley face t-shirts" yet there are no stories of any sort regarding this.
There's no question this guy was on the door of clubs during this time, but the book is not about the rave scene in any way. It's like me writing a book about myself and saying "The diary of a man during the Gulf War" yet I've never been a soldier.
The clubs he talks about (Illusions, The Palace) were not rave clubs either, they were just shitty mainstream pop clubs.
It was an interesting read, but there was too much repetition throughout with various topics and points being laboured to the extent that I ended up in screensaver mode until the next bit of new information came along. When it did, it held my attention until the inevitable labouring of points came up again along with repeating the previous paragraphs in slightly different words.
It felt like the author had been given a word count target by the publisher and was trying to pad out what would have been a very enjoyable - and occasionally, gripping - shorter read, had he kept his storytelling tighter throughout.
I would read his other book, ‘Squaddie’, but this writing style; using 50 words to describe what only requires 10; has put me off, I’m afraid.