Another Sunday night dancing on the couch in the Parlor at Body English. Gripping the molding, I pray the gods of balance are kind. My favorite song plays: “Monday morning: Hesitate, I can’t get out of bed/I’d rather go back to the dreams I’m living in my head,” and everyone pounds the ceiling in time. This is my fifth event at the Hard Rock in four days, and it’s been a sort of assault on our senses (and kidneys). Tonight, believe it or not, is for recuperation.
In Body English’s familiar doorway at 11 p.m. Wednesday night, I could already feel the bass. In a partnership with Ministry of Sound—makers of all those great compilation CDs—Body English has opened its doors Wednesdays and moved the house music out of the Parlor and into the main room.
Dressed in white and surrounded by go-gos in white bikinis and fluffy white boots, DJ Jack Lafleur threw down big anthems and subtle transitions from the new DJ stage, and all with a playful, loving touch. Behind his head, a massive round, white screen with projected gobos spinning wildly, the unmistakable Ministry of Sound logo dead center.
Though the dance floor was packed with early arrivals, VIP was largely empty. But not for long. As the hour crept past midnight, they filled every seat, and some time after 1 a.m. headliner David Guetta tagged in with “Let there be house/this is my house.” He leaned on some button, delivering a beep that lasted so long it hurt. “Here it is, here it is!” thundered the Parlor’s gatekeeper Chad Dallas in anticipation of the drop, and then: “The world is mine!” The night wore on in a sea of familiar faces, most of which I would see again Sunday. Lafleur later gave his first impression of Wednesdays: “What a great feel and look for us. Something totally new and unique for the space. I think Jimmy Greenup put it best when he said, ‘It looks like the Parlor threw up!’”
Thursday found me right back at Body English, this time with even more tattoos, piercings and mohawks. “It’s not how you sound, it’s how you f--king look,” preached Roxy, the prettiest of Metal Skool’s hair-banders. Their heavy metal/’80s spoof show is already booked for 11 weeks at Body English. On a stage over the dance floor, the artists are so close you can reach out and touch their spandex pants. And if I didn’t already love him enough, actor Hal Sparks jumped up and sang an appropriately angry Skid Row song that made even me want to rawwwwwwk.
I arrived at the pool Friday just moments after Jet wrapped up their performance at the new Friday Night Live concert series. At 9 p.m. I was sliding into my 10th frame at Lucky Strike Lanes (final score 188, thankyouverymuch) and could not tear myself away. Guess I’ll have to catch LL Cool J on May 4 or The Donnas on May 11.
I woke up at the butt crack of dawn this Sunday to get down to the Hard Rock Pool before the blender bender got started, and to snap a shot of the first paid customers into Rehab. Wouldn’t you know it, it was Chippendales’ Brian Cheatham and David Greenhouse and Ra Sushi bartendress Lauren Smith who Rehab’s Izod squad led up to the register first for their wristbands.
Tonight, I over-napped and barely made it to Body English by midnight. When I arrived, Lafleur was already spinning the requisite house hits, as well as his little-known gems. Yep, another Sunday night up on the couch in the Parlor. If they ever renovate this place again, I’m taking it with me.