Rio's, Bradford > Reviews (3)

Another Friday night in Bradford, and I'm getting ready to go out. Well, I say "getting ready to go out"...but in reality I am pulling on a pair of jeans and shoving my hair up into a ponytail-in fact I am dressing-down from my usual rather girly attire into something decidedly more casual. Rio's (or as it is affectionately termed by its fans-and staff-"the premier Rock venue of the North") is one of the few night spots in the world that you actually scruff yourself up a bit to attend.It is a commonly known fact by Rios regulars such as myself that you DO NOT wear anything new to Rios, as if you do you will find it ruined in some way or another by the next morning.Just like I ruined my pink dolly shoes. And clothing stinks the next day too, a distinctive unmistakeable Rios smell...you get used to it after a while.

My friends and I meet at the same place and at the same time week in week out,(the town hall...where the electoral registers are kept, and can in fact be checked if you desire to know who is eligable to vote) and start the long walk up to the vicinity of Rios.Unfortunately (or perhaps very fortunately) it is not located right in the city centre, but is situated in a wonderfully prostitute ridden area of Bradford up near the University campus ,just off great Horton road. We pass a grotty looking pub called the Lord Clyde and joke that we are going to go inside for "a swift half". Of course, we never actually go in.

We arrive at a pub called the Peel, where a lookalike of Birds of a feather star Linda Robson serves us drinks. We get very drunk. This takes me about ten minutes.

We then wander up to the Polish ex servicemans club. None of us are Polish, nor are we ex-servicemen. Yet we are members of this club. We meet more of our friends in here, and buy very cheap drinks indeed. We become even more drunk. I am sometimes a bit sick.

We put off going to Rios for as long as possible, usually until the Polish club kicks us out.

Finally, we wander up to Rio's, usually singing Tiffany ("I think we're alone now...there doesn't seem to be anyone around"), pay our £3.50s at the door (there is never a queue except for the first week of the new uni term when the students try Rios for their 1st, and usually last, time) and wander in shouting loudly about how much we hate the place.

Once inside, we rarely drink. This is for two reasons. 1)we are already more than drunk enough and 2)the drinks in Rios are quite expensive (excepting Wednesday night when it is a pound a pint, and even classy ladies like myself cannot resist such an offer...despite the fact that i am reliably informed the beer is watered down and "tastes like shit")

In the main part of Rios the music is loud, and quite abrasive, definate rock and punk and music of the "metal" variety...I am not really au fait with the terms(once again excepting the frankly brilliant Wednesday night when pop, often of the 80s variety presides...Chesney Hawkes one and only is a top fave)The "goth Room" is quieter with a different selection of music, less harsh and deafening.

We dance for several hours, and the boys (ok, the girls as well) get very sweaty and horrid, and we all get our feet stamped on.

Occasionally we go for a sit down on the few tables and chairs dotted about the place. And sometimes we go for a sit down on the floor. Or a lie down on the floor. Or a lie down on the floor of the toilets. (which are, by the by, horrendous)

The disgusting toilets are, however, the quietest place in Rios, and therfore the prime spot for drunken heart to hearts, and the best place to make new friends. (odd friends, granted, but new nevertheless)

When Rios shuts, we all file out, ranting about what a terrible time we have had and how much we hate it.We say we are never going back again.

The next week, the whole routine begins again.