THE LEGEND OF THE SOUND FACTORY
This one has been a long time coming. Ever since I moved to NYC and set up my email account I have received hundreds of emails, approached countless times, and often bragged about the super club of New York, The Sound Factory. A day does not go by without someone asking me about SF. So, I think it’s time I told the world about this legendary place.
I met Rob Lopez around the Spring of 2000 and it was then that I was introduced to SF. I freaked out the first time I went. The place was out of control. Here was me, all dressed up with my Versace and fancy shit on when everyone else was practically naked. Thank God SF has a shop inside the club where I purchased a tank top just so I could blend in and not look like amateur night fool. This was the beginning of a ride that I will never forget. From 2000 – 2004 I earned my General stars in that club. I experienced and saw shit that could only be seen in the movies. Here is some of the things that I encountered:
36 hour non-stop sets.
Naked people walking around like it was a Sunday stroll in the park.
95 pound little club girls drinking meal replacement shakes at the bar and walking around with protein drinks in hand around the club.
85% of the people were either bodybuilders of fitness chicks.
On any given Saturday night the dress code was guys: jeans and shoes… And girls: White jeans, white sneakers, and a bra.
Dorian Yates in the middle of the dance floor breaking it down to the song: Shiny Disco Balls.
Victor Martinez leaving the club at Noon, training legs, and returning at 3:00 PM to resume partying.
Trannys, trannys, and more trannys. Some of the best looking girls at the SF were guys.
Tourists walking by the Factory entrance on their way to the Intrepid and little kids looking at people leaving the club at 4:00 PM and saying to their parents: “Daddy, what’s wrong with them?”.
Unisex bathrooms. If the stalls were occupied and the line for them was long, girls had no problem hovering over a standing stall and pissing.
Midgets sitting on the bar with horns coming out of their heads.
At the 2003 S&M Party I actually saw one of the performers nail his testicles to a 2X4. The same night I saw a couple that had a cutting fetish rip themselves open with a razor blade and draw a painting with their own blood.
Believe me the list goes on and on. Personally I was not into the weird shit, it was the music of Jonathan Peters that kept me hypnotized. That son of a bitch was and is the best House DJ in the world. The man put you in a trance in which you lost track of time and place. Unfortunately, little club kids whom I call “Crack Heads” ruined it for everyone. They would get twisted out of their minds and fall apart right in the middle of the club. X and GHB were the culprits and it was just a matter of time before ‘they’ shut the club down. I personally think that one day the we might see the SF flag draped again on the West Side but in the meantime I will end this by saying this: THERE NEVER WAS, IS, OR WILL EVER BE ANOTHER FACTORY….. PERIOD!
