Bermuda Triangle, The


It’s not clear whether this place is called The Bermuda Triangle because it’s hard to find or because it’s so bloody hot in there. Either way, this sweaty dive bar (and that’s not meant pejoratively, I like sweaty dives) resembles the interior of a leather-lined petrol tanker — and there’s something very rock ‘n’ roll about that.

On my first visit I saw Toy play. The sound wasn’t great; sludgy and overly noisy, but that might not have been the venue’s fault — sometimes a band’s insistence on playing brutally loudly strips away all the nuances from the music (yeah, I’m talking to you, Kevin Shields). It was, however, worth the price of admission to watch the members of Toy trying to smoke a cigarette out of the front door without messing up their hair on a night when the rain was lashing down horizontally.

Its elongated tunnel shape means that if you get stuck at the back you won’t see much, and can it get quite claustrophobic in there (see the above picture for confirmation. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel a bit ill). But if you stand by the wall, at least one jammed flank will ensure  25 per cent fewer sweaty bodies to fend off.

187 – 193 Kings Road


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