NECROPOLIS
September's Queer nightlife column for Sticky Fingers Publishing involved spending a wholesome day at The Old Church with the goths <3
I have a friend, her name is Claudia. She has cheekbones for days, mesmerising eyes reminiscent of Madonna(I took acid once and convinced myself she was Madonna), thick, wavy black hair, and an impeccably Futch sports-goth lewk but really on the inside, she’s a very loveable, adorable softie. Oh, I forgot to mention she’s also an exceptional musician and DJ. Early May 2024, Claudia invited me to an event she was DJing called Necropolis, she explained to me “it’s a goth rave in a church in Stokey” and that was about all the persuading she had to do for me to buy a ticket tbh.
At the time I was busy falling head over heels with Louise and excitedly buoyed from all the new feelings so I spent all of my time burning off the energy dancing give or take a few breaks to get some air. I had a fab time. The tempo and timbre of Darkwave bounced between the glass-stained windows of The Old Church and put me in a state of hypnosis. I was unable to leave the stone tiles of the dancefloor and as the night drew on the crowd steadily grew as each DJ brought a unique twist to Industrial Techno, EBM and Darkwave, ensuring there was never a lull in the evening (Becky Stroke in particular was muddy, hard and exceptional). Necropolis struck the ideal balance of calming my central nervous system whilst firing off dopamine into my limbs. I love goths.
Cut to September 2025 and I find out Claudia is DJing Necropolis later that week so I invited Machine and Billy and eagerly anticipated another wholesome day-rave situation to share with them. Sadly the day wasn’t off to a great start as word spread about the far-right march taking place in central. Despite the aroma of fascism permeating over London I avoided the torrid stench of “common sense” by jumping on a 106 over to Stokey for Necropolis. Walking into the sunlit church the venue manager was still setting up as the first DJ entertained a crowd of one. It was too early in the day and the sunlight was too overpowering to be seen attempting to look interested in an empty room so I sat outside on the floor under some trees and rolled a cigarette while waiting for Machine, Claudia and Billy to arrive.
Machine eventually arrived(late), ponced a rolly off of me and we decided to get a drink somewhere else. When we returned to The Old Church the room was now filled with 6 people and none of them with an ounce of rhythm. One of my favourite games to play when I’m bored of dancing is attempting to dance to the offbeats, it’s nice to know others play this game when they’re bored too. The DJs up to this point were meh but when Claudia started her set the room finally came to life. With the Sun growing tired and slowly napping behind the trees The Old Church was cloaked in necessary darkness for the tacky but inspired school-disco lights to make sense. For some reason there wasn’t a smoke machine. Why wasn’t there a smoke machine? Claudia opened with one of her own songs which set the tone for the rest of her set: an hour-long adventure through heavy, mesmeric basslines, drums pounding over the pews, around the walls and punching through your gut in ecstasy.
Machine and Billy dancing in frivolous abandon as Claudia works hard for the money
After her set we needed a little break and a reset so we walked outside into the graveyard and found a wide-birthing slab that was actually a grave (thanks Mary born in 1837!) to sit on and had a brief fag break. After half an hour or so were about to head back in but remembered the ridiculous length of the queue for the bathroom so Machine and I decided it would be more sensible to pee in the graveyard somewhere instead. I found a lovely gravestone to hide behind and ended up with stinging nettles clinging to the back of my thighs and bum, what a delight. Walking back into the party, Machine put their sunglasses on because they’re from LA and that’s what people from LA do in dark rooms with dancefloors. Unfortunately the room didn’t fill up to the point necessary for the night to level up and stay there any longer. Plus, the DJ was dull, repetitive and playing quite literally the exact same songs as the DJ before Claudia. So we did what any self-respecting group of bored Queers would do at a flatlining event: we went to Nando’s.
Sticky Fingers Publishing are an independent publishers who run a monthly printed newsletter posted straight through your letterbox. It’s only £3 per month and features lots of articles, listings and sexy artwork so get subscribing immediately.
xox