Yesterday evening, Thursday, the regional TV announced that one of seven bridges which cross the river Tyne at Newcastle was to commence fifteen years of a subtle light show artwork experience, so having worked out that there was nothing which could not be left I ventured into the dusk and took the opportunity to investigate something of the city night life.
I have never been a night life person, going out to clubs and pubs, and the like, although as a teenager when working in the centre of London, I was introduced to the world of traditional jazz played mainly in Soho, but where one of the most famous clubs was at 100 Oxford Street. The most memorable escapade was to attend the Cy Laurie Club which was in the same street as the famous Windmill theatre and adjacent to sandwich milk bar used by ladies of the night, I and my companion then moved on to the Skiffle Cellar, for a succession of bands though the rest of the night until 6am, going out at 2 am to get a first edition of a Sunday paper, and to see what happening in Soho at that hour; then returning to the hotel for wash and breakfast before going to the embankment for a day long Riverboat shuffle along the Thames to Margate and back, and where the playing of When the Saints Come In, by Sandy Brown and his sidemen for about half an hour while we docked on return, blew the mind of Howard McGhee and Sonny Terry who had come from the USA with their style of authentic Blues.
Two decades later as still a comparatively young man, or so I thought, I went on an after evening meal walkabout in a Spanish holiday resort famed for its nightlife, and was amazed to find dozens of scantily dressed young men and women handing out invitations to bars, clubs and disco's to most passers bar, but none was offered to me and my partner. It was one of those holiday packages where you are assigned a meal table shared with another couple, and who were barely in their twenties and regarded us as ancients from another planet. Conversation was difficult so I mentioned the experience of the previous evening and they enjoyed saying they had collected forty.
Although I enjoyed many evening walks in Mediterranean lands since and regularly passed through part of Newcastle's nightlife districts on the way to and from evening football, I have never ventured to exploring the scene again until last night.
Yesterday I worked out that the best route was to take the metro train to Newcastle Station and then make my way down to the Quayside and view the event from the swing bridge and through the pillars of a bridge where although the railway line continues the lower road part has been closed for extensive repairs. The route I took went by a pub advertising a rock band and a Spanish restaurant both which merited closer inspection. The route then joins the main street to the quayside full of bars and eateries including a vegetarian pub. As mentioned in the previous writing, the men on the doors all qualified for parts in Get Carter.
As no one else was preparing for the light show on the swing bridge and a few souls were making their way along the bank towards the metro train bridge, I followed, after taking some amazing pictures of Newcastle buildings reflected in the bulbous glass structure of the Sage music centre, with was framed by the High Level and Millennium Bridges.
The undistinguished modern barn of a building on the bank walkway had become a fairyland night club and across the road in the terrace of ancient dwellings the first floor disco bar was offering double and trebles at ridiculously low prices and attracting some trade just before 9 pm. I made my way to another modern building directly on the river bank, the Quayside, which has been brilliantly designed, furnished and decorated inside to create a dozen separate spaces to meet with friends or for a private tete-a-tete, the outside spaces to front and side were also crowded with those who like to smoke with their drink and chat. I remembered how to find the toilet from a previous visit when if you go early enough you can park and then climb up the hill for the match. What had not been appreciated that one can walk along the bank for at least a mile as the area has been relit, repaved and the bank cultivated with seating here and there. Outside the modern Copthorne Hotel there was an assembly of suits and invited ladies from the Passenger Travel Company, Nexus, the artist and artwork sponsors and others connected with the creation of the biggest public art work in the United Kingdom.
I break off momentarily to greet Barry, a new friend request from Bristol whose photos include a deep clean brain appearance restorer, and whose own appearance suggests the kind of person who will enjoy Newcastle after dark.
I have never been a night life person, going out to clubs and pubs, and the like, although as a teenager when working in the centre of London, I was introduced to the world of traditional jazz played mainly in Soho, but where one of the most famous clubs was at 100 Oxford Street. The most memorable escapade was to attend the Cy Laurie Club which was in the same street as the famous Windmill theatre and adjacent to sandwich milk bar used by ladies of the night, I and my companion then moved on to the Skiffle Cellar, for a succession of bands though the rest of the night until 6am, going out at 2 am to get a first edition of a Sunday paper, and to see what happening in Soho at that hour; then returning to the hotel for wash and breakfast before going to the embankment for a day long Riverboat shuffle along the Thames to Margate and back, and where the playing of When the Saints Come In, by Sandy Brown and his sidemen for about half an hour while we docked on return, blew the mind of Howard McGhee and Sonny Terry who had come from the USA with their style of authentic Blues.
Two decades later as still a comparatively young man, or so I thought, I went on an after evening meal walkabout in a Spanish holiday resort famed for its nightlife, and was amazed to find dozens of scantily dressed young men and women handing out invitations to bars, clubs and disco's to most passers bar, but none was offered to me and my partner. It was one of those holiday packages where you are assigned a meal table shared with another couple, and who were barely in their twenties and regarded us as ancients from another planet. Conversation was difficult so I mentioned the experience of the previous evening and they enjoyed saying they had collected forty.
Although I enjoyed many evening walks in Mediterranean lands since and regularly passed through part of Newcastle's nightlife districts on the way to and from evening football, I have never ventured to exploring the scene again until last night.
Yesterday I worked out that the best route was to take the metro train to Newcastle Station and then make my way down to the Quayside and view the event from the swing bridge and through the pillars of a bridge where although the railway line continues the lower road part has been closed for extensive repairs. The route I took went by a pub advertising a rock band and a Spanish restaurant both which merited closer inspection. The route then joins the main street to the quayside full of bars and eateries including a vegetarian pub. As mentioned in the previous writing, the men on the doors all qualified for parts in Get Carter.
As no one else was preparing for the light show on the swing bridge and a few souls were making their way along the bank towards the metro train bridge, I followed, after taking some amazing pictures of Newcastle buildings reflected in the bulbous glass structure of the Sage music centre, with was framed by the High Level and Millennium Bridges.
The undistinguished modern barn of a building on the bank walkway had become a fairyland night club and across the road in the terrace of ancient dwellings the first floor disco bar was offering double and trebles at ridiculously low prices and attracting some trade just before 9 pm. I made my way to another modern building directly on the river bank, the Quayside, which has been brilliantly designed, furnished and decorated inside to create a dozen separate spaces to meet with friends or for a private tete-a-tete, the outside spaces to front and side were also crowded with those who like to smoke with their drink and chat. I remembered how to find the toilet from a previous visit when if you go early enough you can park and then climb up the hill for the match. What had not been appreciated that one can walk along the bank for at least a mile as the area has been relit, repaved and the bank cultivated with seating here and there. Outside the modern Copthorne Hotel there was an assembly of suits and invited ladies from the Passenger Travel Company, Nexus, the artist and artwork sponsors and others connected with the creation of the biggest public art work in the United Kingdom.
I break off momentarily to greet Barry, a new friend request from Bristol whose photos include a deep clean brain appearance restorer, and whose own appearance suggests the kind of person who will enjoy Newcastle after dark.
The QE II Metro Bridge was built from 1976 to 1979 to carry Metro trains between Newcastle and Gateshead.
The through-truss steel girder construction was built out from each bank, with the two sections meeting on August 1, 1978. It was opened by Queen Elizabeth II when Her Majesty officially opened Metro in November 1981. The span between the concrete piers is 168 metres, at the time of construction the longest of its kind in Europe. The full length of the bridge is 360 metres.
Because the light artwork covers the full length of the bridge it can claim to be the largest public art work. The creator of the work, chosen from twenty applicants is Nayan Kulkarni; a graduate of London's Slade School of Art and who is renowned for his work using art as a means to transform public spaces. He is involved in architectural and design collaborations which exploit engineering design and technologically advanced materials, through his studio NKProjects. NKProjects is currently involved in large-scale public art projects Sky Mirror & Constellations (Birmingham), Glazed Roof Design (Bristol Broadmead Development), Parkland Gateway (Corby), and Breaking Boundaries (Ashford). I look forward to hearing Brian's views of the Broadmead development.
My arrival at the main vantage point was timely because there was a bang and burst of fireworks high into the night sky on both banks at the precise announced time of 9.15pm. This startled two school age young women who had cycled down after completing homework, but they were disappointed by the show, having expected a blaze off coloured lights, The work comprises a constantly array of lighting changes and colours in sequence around both sides of the bridge, sometimes momentarily covering its whole length, sometimes just a couple of struts. Although multicolouring is possible, the intention is for display to be an integral part of the structure and its environment, and the sequencing and colouring can be changed by the public uploading a colour photograph, which makes the performance interactive with anyone, anywhere, anytime with the technology, now where have I seen that written before!
I left the crowd and walked on along the bank path to the second railway bridge and the comparatively new west end road crossing bridge, the sixth, and which caused an identity crisis for the Five Bridges Hotel, which is also said to have reported to considered jumping off its nearest bridge when the seventh was assembled in 1999 for the Millennium. Is there anywhere else in the world with so many crossing in such a compact distance? It was a pleasant night but I decided to leave walking further on and return to an exploration of the city night life which confirmed that Thursdays is a bad night when at times there appeared to be more nights spots than punters. I did encounter two party's of lads, unusual not because they were a mixture of ages from twenty to mid fifties, but because they were lads whereas normally the parties of young and not so young women on the rampage. My last encounter with such a party was in Shields the night before driving back from my mothers, when a dozen or so ladies dressed in black headed towards the nightlife district, accompanying one bride to be also in black, wearing her veil and a Learner sign. I stayed for a while listening to the rockband whose music could be heard at a distance, and also noting that the Spanish restaurant provided full meals, was well patronised, but then returned to South Shields, and feeling still energetic took the long way home into the town centre where the music and lighting roared at you for customers who apart from those already inside, and me, appeared to consist for a disparate couple in the their forties at the end of the station platform complete with bags of cans, looking for somewhere to party and perhaps a bed for the night, I say this disparate aspect because I was given the once over by the woman, and an inviting smile which suggested desperateness (I look in the mirror), and further on where six establishments were in adjoining competition there were two women in their thirties also in black who also gave me the once over but no smile, but although I smiled at them. Then I understood what the bouncers were for. They were not for keeping aged folk like me out, but for keeping in those who had already crossed the threshold.
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