When I walked through the doors of Whirl-Y-Gig for the first time nearly ten years ago, I thought it was absolutely incredible. It monumentally blew me away, and I was amazed that such a place could even exist in the centre of London.

No longer did I have to put up with aggressive drunks, fights or bad attitude when I wanted to go out clubbing. I could really relax, kick back, be myself and socialise with others who came for exactly the same reasons that I did. It’s an over-used cliché, but Whirl-Y-Gig really is a club like no other.

Words: Will Jobbins
Pics: Will Poole
Film: Infected Media

This is an event which inspires deep loyalty in its clientele, some of whom have been attending for twenty years or more, and it is not at all unusual to see three generations of the same family partying together. It is one of the very few nightclubs around which allow children in – albeit subject to strict requirements, pre-arrangement with the organisers and only until a certain time – which goes some way to illustrating the welcoming, peaceful atmosphere and ethos of the place.

There are many great and unique things about Whirly, but the key factor for me is a modus operandi of real community and tolerance. The place is shockingly friendly – and I do mean ‘shockingly’. The first time you go you’ll be wondering exactly what it is that all these people know and you don’t, why they keep grinning at you and quite how you managed to make so many giggling friends in such a short space of time. It’s infectious, and here’s a good example of how it changes people.

A few years ago a handful of ‘chavs’ arrived at the club. They were attired in the usual sportswear and gold chains, and had brought some serious attitude problems in with them. They would skulk around, trying to pick fights and wind people up, but they were totally ignored by the Whirly regulars – and within two months they had been completely converted. They’re now most often found on the top steps at the front of the dance floor, whistles in mouth, grooving and laughing until the morning sun warms the walls of the railway arches outside.

Whirly does that to you, you see. It completely strips you of your ego and your attitude, and completely disarms you. You can walk in with the raging hump and with nothing but murderous intentions on your mind, and I guarantee you’ll float homewards eight hours later sitting on your own little silken cloud, covered in smudged ultraviolet facepaint, utterly exhausted and grinning like an idiot. Some go so far as to say that it is highly therapeutic and rejuvenating for tired, stressed-out minds, and I can’t disagree.

One reason for this pleasant vibe is the people who operate the club. Led by the Whirl-Y-Gig grande fromage Mary, a small core team of hard-working staff run the event itself throughout the night, with a slightly higher number of dedicated volunteers (these are mostly regular attendees who decided to become more heavily involved) helping to rig the lavish décor, look after the toilets, facepaint the clubbers, monitor the cloakroom, de-rig after the event and more. People are extremely passionate about Whirl-Y-Gig and this is patently obvious in the care and attention given to its maintenance and its customers by all the levels of staff. For example, any lost property is almost always handed in and returned to its rightful owner even before the night’s end. You wouldn’t get that at the mainstream commercial clubs, would you?


But what is most crucial in creating this atmosphere is playing the appropriate music at the right time and Monkey Pilot (aka Richard who, with his partner Mary, owns the club) is the sole DJ. Every month he sits down at 10pm to open his set and, eight hours later at 6am, he finally brings his set to a close after the chilled-out ‘parachute drop’ session. One of the great mysteries of Whirlygig is how Monkey Pilot is able to hold in a wee for so long, and at the time of writing this remains another of life’s great unsolved questions, to be X-filed along with the Bermuda Triangle and the Mary Celeste. But my money’s on a large plastic bottle hidden under the mixer.

Anyway, the music policy is far wider and more diverse than most other clubs and is arranged and mixed live by Mr Pilot himself. He cuts a small but powerful figure in his tie-dyed shirt and enormous straw hat, and he hunches over a huge mixing desk with his back to the audience, only occasionally turning round to flash a quick, almost shy grin at the heaving crowd below. At the beginning of the night, expect to hear laid-back, proggy tropical house, world fusion and chilled dance music, but as the floor fills up and the hours roll on he starts to increase the tempo, almost imperceptibly at first. By 1am you will hear anything from tribal house music or funky breakbeats to euphoric trance, and by 4am your head will be pounded by relentless psytrance, drum n’ bass, house, breaks and anything else he fancies throwing into the melting pot. Expect to be surprised as the styles and genres swap almost as rapidly as the records, and if you aren’t keen on one song or particular style, by the time you’ve wandered off to the toilet or stepped outside for a cigarette and returned, you can be pretty confident that there will be something completely different playing.

Sometime after 5am the party is still rocking, but the energy is starting to sap as Monkey Pilot winds the music down. By 5.30 it is time for the ‘parachute drop’, where the clubbers collapse onto the dance floor and an enormous silk parachute is rippled over their heads, wafting a welcome breeze through the room. Lasers and lights play over the billowing folds and create not only a visual spectacle, but also a cool, refreshing conclusion to the night where people can sit back, chat or just take a minute to absorb the amazing, almost hallucinatory light show or the by-now deeply chilled, soaring tunes. As the parachute ends, the last of the clubbers retire to the chill bar next door for the Café Teez afterparty with quiet, soothing music from a guest DJ, and you will probably see Monkey Pilot absolutely legging it through the crowd at this point, heading directly for the loo. So maybe he hasn’t got a bottle under there after all?

Whirl-Y-Gig is a long-running and influential club and is held in very high regard in some circles, especially those involved in world fusion music – Azukz, Banco de Gaia, Transglobal Underground, Kamel Nitrate and more have all performed live here over the years, along with other, harder acts such as Eat Static or Bio, and Whirly regularly pops up at summer festivals with its own tent.

Full calendar, galleries, event news,
guestbook, contact details, Whirl-Y-Radio
(the most recent event’s set recorded
and looped through the website) and
other great stuff can all be found at
www.whirl-y-gig.org.uk

Whirl-Y-Gig is currently at Jacks Club,
SE1, LondonLong-running? Well, yes. Time Team have dug up Roman architecture that is younger than Whirly. In September 2009 it will celebrate its 29th birthday, probably making it older than at least half of the clubbers who frequent it, and this longevity is a testament to this truly revolutionary vision of a community approach to clubbing, and to the passion and dedication of all involved with it. Before that, in July, there is the Whirl-Y-Gig Summer Celebration which features live performances from Transglobal Underground and Temple Hedz, and of course the club’s regular night is still held on a certain Saturday night every month (check the website for dates). If you miss out, you’re an onion.

To see more Whirl-y-gig images click below.