The second in our series of people and institutions that are helping to shape the future of Chinese music, the Radar turns the spotlight on:
Beijing’s White Rabbit Club
Words by Laura Fitch
In a city full of clubs blasting top 40 hits to seemingly oblivious crowds dressed to impress and sipping expensive cocktails, opening a space simply for the music is a revolutionary concept.
But the minds behind Beijing’s top underground dance club have done just that. Local DJs and party promoters Yang Bing and Fu Yan teamed up with Swedish expat and party promoter Thomas Gaestadius to open Beijing’s first club dedicated solely to dance music. White Rabbit opened its doors on September 21, 2007, and in just one year has solidified its reputation as an aural wonderland for Beijing’s electronic music set. Over 1,000 came through White Rabbit’s doors to celebrate its first-year anniversary and listen to a rotation of 24 djs spin through the night. “We wanted to do something different to other Chinese clubs,” says Gaestadius. “We wanted to focus on music instead of socializing.”
Yang Bing’s name has floated around the Beijing party scene for years. One of the pioneers of dance music in Beijing, Yang formed one third of the dj group China Pump Factory, dj’d and promoted parties at the city’s biggest clubs, and organized one of the earliest Great Wall raves in the late 90s. But parties in Beijing were often sacrificed to the ego of the club owner, says Yang. If the owner is successful, then the owner wants to change things, thinking that his business sense will translate into success on the dance floor. Anyone who has stepped into a Chinese club blasting happy hardcore to flashing neon lights knows this isn’t always the case.
Gaestadius, part of party promotion group BaiCai, met Yang while he was djing at a club he was promoting at. After a series of late-night conversations expressing the frustrations of working with club owners with an eye on the cash register and a deaf ear to the entertainment, Gaestadius, Yang and Fu pooled their resources and began looking for a space to call their own.
Like it’s elusive namesake, White Rabbit can be hard to find. The tiny entrance is marked by a pair of white bunny ears and sandwiched between two large restaurants on Lucky Street in Beijing’s east side. Far from the loud meat-market clubs that circle the front of the worker’s stadium, the club has a speakeasy feel to it. A steep flight of stairs leads underground to a two-level space that can hold about 600. Sparsely decorated, pipes are visible overhead and the club’s cement floors and walls are bare. The bar on the first floor serves standard highballs and beers, the bathroom is unisex, and a handful of chairs and tables circle the dance floor. More Berlin than Beijing, the no-frills atmosphere sets White Rabbit apart from other clubs in Beijing that look to impress with over-the-top décor.
It took a while to settle on the exact details of the layout. In the beginning, there was an attempt to bring in live bands to play on the first level, while dance music played on the second. But it proved to be too much music for one venue, and eventually the White Rabbit crew decided to stick to dance. Now the stage that once held a drum set is covered with couches.
Though they are considering recording live dj sets in the future, it still remains a plan, says Gaestadius. The focus will remain on the music. “I don’t want bad music in our club, even if it’s successful,” says Gaestaidius. “White Rabbit is a place where djs are appreciated and not treated as waiters.” And djs have flocked like moths to a flame. Now Beijing’s free-floating party labels like locally based Yen have a home base, says publicist Carissa Welton.
The key, says Yang, is to focus on quality music and forget about the name attached to it. So while other clubs around town spend wads of yuan to bring in top names like Paul Van Dyk or Goldie, White Rabbit quietly goes about the business of ensuring that even though their audience might not know who is spinning, they are loving every minute of it.
White Rabbit’s lineup for next year includes Bloody Mary in February and a showcase of four resident djs from Berlin’s top club Panorama Bar in late spring, marking the first time the club has had so many international djs spinning in one night. Regular events at the club include BaiCai vs. the Syndicate – a night of house and drum and bass, Morse – featuring local djs Mickey Zhang and Dio spinning techno, electro, progressive and tech house and live sets from visiting international djs.
Though closed during the week, you can expect to find a few hundred partiers on White Rabbit’s dance floors from Thursday to Saturday. Entrance prices vary but are usually upwards of 50 RMB. The club doesn’t get going until 12 or one am, and the parties often last until past the wee hours. “But we don’t want to be an after-hours club,” says Gaestadius, emphasizing the club’s mission. “We don’t want people coming in drunk from a night of listening to crap top 40 music just because it’s somewhere open to go to.”