Spiritual Experience  Spirit Night Club Saturday May 7, 2005 Written by John V. Curtin Photographed by Krizstina Fazekas

DJ Alex Pearce

House music echoes faintly from warehouse-sized buildings while attractive twenty-and thirty-somethings cluster outside unassuming doorways, fiercely guarded by an imposing gatekeeper. Welcome to West Chelsea -  New York's newest nightlife playground and home to superclub Spirit.

As I walk down 27th Street steadily approaching Spirit's heavy doors, I can feel clubland oozing from every corner of the industrial environment. Like a strong cologne, it's impossible to ignore. Suddenly (and even though I'm a little worse-for-wear from the previous evening's festivities), I'm in the mood for a bit of NY glamour.

Unfortunately, any notion of a sparkling night on the town is quickly squelched. 

Clubbers take note: Spirit has more security checks than your local airport. After making it past the pleasant door staff, you're jolted back to reality by a mandatory frisk and search. Frankly, I'm surprised they didn't ask me to remove my shoes. 

Similar unpleasant surprises  abound at the large, sleek bar situated on the edge of the dance floor. After opening the bottle of  Corona I had ordered, the bartender began reaching for something else. My first thought is that he's getting the customary lime. But it soon became clear he wasn't. What's he doing? I thought. Is he looking for a bottle opener? A pen, perhaps? I soon realized the horrible truth as he proceeded to pour my beer into a clear plastic keg cup. "Lime?" he asked. Does it matter? I thought.

Perhaps this comes with the territory. After all, the large space previously housed the legendary and notorious Twilo - a NY institution where anything went, and excessive, illicit drug use was par for the course. Now, I don't know the full story behind Spirit's protocol, but I don't think a club should have to pay for the sins of a former tenant.  

But let's move on. In my view, the importance of these small details is subjective. Such measures in airports are generally regarded as facts of life, not major inconveniences. And they are certainly justifiable if the final destination offers an escape from the monotony of normal, nine-to-five life. For the most part, Spirit is such a destination. 

The room is basically one big dance floor, painted a pitch, neutral black (perhaps a nod to the club's checkered past). A second level houses a state-of-the-art DJ booth, allowing the evening's musical impresario to overlook the crowd below; while on the opposite wall, a huge plasma screen with constantly morphing imagery holds your attention. My girlfriend commented that, "it kind of looks like it was decorated by guys," which I think sums up the decor quite accurately. Were it three thousand sqare feet smaller, Spirit could have been my first apartment - dark, big, and cold, but with a kicking sound system and flat screen television.

I always have respect for a DJ and nightclub that doesn't bow to the lowest common denominator. The DJ is an artist, employed to take the patrons on an expressive journey and expose them to music they might not otherwise experience. Spirit stays true to its musical roots, showcasing some of the city's most original, cutting-edge electronic music. On a recent Saturday night, DJ Alex Pearce spun some of the best deep and sexy progressive house I've heard in awhile (nary a Beyonce' remix to be found). And the crowd loved it. One of the night’s most memorable moments occurred when the lights went down, the music quieted, and an eruption of scattered applause and genuine enthusiasm shook the dance floor. When the pulsing music kicked back up and the dance floor once again resembled a kaleidoscope of colored lights, the late-night revelers around me lit up like Christmas trees.

New York Cool's John Curtin

And as I grooved to the sublime, electronic beats enveloping the sparse space, I noticed an attractive bachelorette party in pink boas mingling seamlessly with the rest of the crowd - a mix of ravers, reformed ravers, and extras from Growing Up Gotti. And that's really what's most impressive about Spirit. Despite a horrid security policy, less-than-impressive drinks, and the occasional feeling of being ripped off (the bar staff will add a generous gratuity to your bill if you use a credit card), Spirit offers a genuinely friendly, “come-as-you-are” atmosphere - a place where you can let your hair down and not worry about your designer shoes (or lack thereof). Just take care not to let on that you're having too much fun - the staff might get suspicious.