Get all your news in one place.
100’s of premium titles.
One app.
Start reading
Evening Standard
Evening Standard
World
Hamish MacBain

The More Joy Disco needs you

‘Steaming drunk, probably,’ is how Christopher Kane, somewhat sheepishly, describes the state he was in when he first met Glyn Fussell. Which, given said encounter took place at the latter’s Sink the Pink — for 13 years up until last Jan, the most outrageously fun, glammest, cool-in-the-best-possible-way-est night out in London — does not come as a huge surprise.

‘You were judging the drag run, you and Gareth Pugh,’ Fussell beams, as the three of us sit sipping Tuesday-afternoon drinks in the House of Koko. ‘My mum was also on the panel. That was the first time we properly spoke. Glad it was so memorable for you, Christopher.’

‘And Bryan Adams was there,’ recalls Kane.

‘Oh, let me tell you about Bryan Adams,’ continues Fussell. ‘He is a photographer as well and he had been doing a shoot that week at Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club. I’d come in to collect some coins or something and he is just there, taking photos. I didn’t know he was a photographer. I went straight up and said, “Hi, Bryan, I do a club night here, you should come tonight.” Never thought he would. But he turns up in his car in the evening. Had obviously done a bit of research online. He had a wig on. He came incognito, and that was the first time of many that he came back. That happened a lot. We had the most random people come and none of it mattered.’

This kind of everyone-is-welcome, any - thing-can-happen spirit is central to the reason we have met up today: the pair’s soon-to-launch More Joy Disco — an extension of Kane’s capsule label of the same name — in the labyrinthine recesses of the refurbished Koko. Taking place on Thursdays until 4am, the aim is to breathe some decadent, lipstick-smeared life into London. Dragging, dancing, drinking and an ethos of true inclusivity that’s the polar opposite to the exclusivity prevalent in so many clubs.

‘It’s so outdated to think like that now,’ says Kane. ‘Like, which designer are you friends with, or the daughter of? I mean, seriously, get a grip. That doesn’t work anymore, that doesn’t cut it for me. I don’t care who your dad is. More Joy is all about involving everyone from every walk of life.’

We don’t condone bad behaviour, but we want it. Good bad behaviour: just the best kind of really naughty

‘As long as you’re not a wanker, that’s what we stand for,’ Fussell concurs. ‘Come together, leave your shit at the door, have an amazing time. It doesn’t matter what you do, where you’re from, who you are. A house party vibe.’ It is not, given the similarities of their backgrounds, hard to see why Kane and Fussell are putting on a night together. Both are working-class queer kids — the former from Glasgow, the latter Bristol — who came to London with little more than big dreams. And both were raised, in some sense, by the capital’s finest early-21st-century clubs.

‘I moved down when I was 18 to go to art school.’ says Kane. ‘That was 2000 and I graduated in 2006, so I’d been there for six years. And in that time you had the craziest, best club nights ever. Like Shadow Lounge. For a young gay guy, moving from Scotland, I found that so scary. You’d see Cilla Black and Barrymore in the back, doing all sorts. You’re 18, 19, you’re drinking Red Bull and vodka. It costs £1.50 because you’re a student, you’re steaming drunk, but you’ve also got this delirious adrenaline rush, because you’re seeing people you’ve seen on TV. And then you’re seeing people like Alexander McQueen — because I was frantic about fashion, obviously — and Guido [Palau], and the supermodels. It was so exciting.’

Christopher Kane by Elliot Morgan (Photography by Elliott Morgan for ES Magazine)

‘When I got to London, I didn’t know anyone,’ remembers Fussell. ‘I was living above a pub on Great Portland Street, The Fitz and Firkin. I’d come out. You know, I’m gay… but it turns out I’m more than gay, I’m alternative, weird, and I like dressing up. I knew I had to come to London, I just knew. Anyway, there was a guy who worked behind the bar of this pub who, because I had a sort of MySpace fringe at the time, instantly said, “You should come to Popstarz at the Scala.” That was the place for me: the first time I knew I was not a kind of… circuit party gay. I knew that I wanted to trash around to Gossip and to Skunk Anansie and drink cans of Red Stripe.’

The legendarily dressy, glam Trash on Mondays and the equally legendarily dressy, glam Nag Nag Nag on Wednesdays also featured heavily in the calendars of both — ‘I knew people who would get dressed the whole week and not do their college work. It was more about their outfit for the Wednesday night,’ says Kane. As did the dearly departed G.A.Y. at the Astoria on Saturdays. ‘You’d have everyone from Peaches to Kylie to Danni to Steps. It was dirt cheap to go in. It was great,’ says Kane. ‘My pals used to come down from Glasgow and they were like, “Does this really happen?” I was like, this is why you need to move to London! I love Scotland, but Glasgow, even though the music scene in the 90s was good, that was straight-centric and you’d be like outsiders. I still call myself an outsider.’

Lessons for the future were learned, too. ‘I remember once going to Boombox and I was with Amy [Redmond, Sink the Pink co-founder],’ Fussell says. ‘We’d spent ages getting ready: she’d covered herself in superglue and just rolled in glitter. Poundshop hat. Gorgeous. But we got turned away and I remember just feeling so small. So when we started Sink the Pink, I said we’ll never do that. I only want kindness. These people are outside, wearing hardly anything in all weather. Let’s treat people with respect.’

Glyn Fussell for ES Magazine (Photography by Elliott Morgan for ES Magazine)

‘There was an intrigue to all that which I guess was powerful back in the Studio 54 kind of days,’ continues Kane. ‘But I don’t love that. I’ve never treated anyone like that. It has happened to me, but I’d walk away and I don’t forget. Now the roles are reversed and I’m like, remember me? Yeah, you do? Sorry, bye. I practise what I preach, so with More Joy what we’re going to do is a cocktail of all things brilliant, that’s open to everyone.’

‘Basically we want bad behaviour,’ says Fussell, as we finish our drinks. ‘We don’t condone it, but we want it. We want good bad behaviour. The best kind of naughty. That’s what everyone wants, right?’

Sign up to read this article
Read news from 100’s of titles, curated specifically for you.
Already a member? Sign in here
Related Stories
Top stories on inkl right now
One subscription that gives you access to news from hundreds of sites
Already a member? Sign in here
Our Picks
Fourteen days free
Download the app
One app. One membership.
100+ trusted global sources.