Why I hate Studio 8: The saga continues

By Mayka Mei

SAN JOSE -- I hate Studio 8.

Since this bank-turned-club first opened in the spring of 2005, I've been there way more times than I care to count. I've gone in and out on a Thursday night. I've had my toe nearly broken by a girl in heeled boots. (It was my old roommate.) I've yelled at the crowd below from the windows of the VIP lounge (now the "Diamond Room," but more on that later).

And there I was last Friday night, pen and mini glitter notebook in hand.

Many people have been asking me why I hate Studio 8. It seems difficult for them to comprehend that such a large, popular "mega club," as its Web site claims, could be despised so much by a professional clubber such as myself.

Yes, the place is large, and size may matter, but there are some situations in which large is just excessive. That's right, there is such a thing as too big. In the case of Studio 8 on South First Street, large means commercial and mainstream to the point of being boring.

Every time I walk into Studio 8, I know exactly what the night will entail. From the music to the mirrored disco ball, it's as predictable as a so-called "plot twist" in an M. Night Shyamalan movie. I see the same people -- alive, sure, but always the same.

And this is what you can expect every time you party at Studio 8.

April 7, 2006, 10:30 p.m. -- Guest list for life

My friend and I park on the street across from Studio 8. It is cold, but I leave my jacket in the trunk because I'm too cheap to tip for coat check (no per-item costs). Even the sidewalk is still damp from rain, but luckily the guest list line is relatively short.

Some other friends from Santa Clara show up. They worry that they're not on the guest list and don't want to pay the $15 cover. So I let them in on a little secretâ?¦

I have never paid to get into Studio 8. Aside from the affinity that my circle of clubbing friends all share for the place, the only reason I go is because it is always free.

All that uppity posh exclusivity? Lies! Studio 8, in all its trendy glory, has the most un-checked guest list in the history of downtown San Jose.

Here's what you do: Go to Studio 8 on a Friday or Saturday night. (Other weeknights are typically run by promoters who are not necessarily connected with Studio 8.) Get into the guest list line (along Santa Clara Street). When they ask, tell them you're on the guest list. They'll hand you a clipboard. Fill out your name and e-mail address, honesty optional. Take ticket from ticket-giver. Get ID checked by bouncer. Enter club. Give ticket to ticket-taker.

Done and done.

Now inside, the speakers greet me with the pulsing sounds of dance music that could only mean two things: I'm in Studio 8 or at a European rave six years ago.

11:00 p.m. -- Studio soundtrack

I don't pay any attention to the MC's shout-outs to the DJ of the evening because, in my mind, his name is "DJ Press Play."

Do you have a CD where you've memorized the track order? Welcome to Studio 8.

The club's music is my biggest pet peeve. I don't see the necessity for turntables and mixers when all the songs are essentially an iPod playlist, ready to go at the start of each night.

The mainstream hip-hop starts at 11. It's good -- your typical hip-hop party mix. I hear songs that have graced the top ranks of Billboard's hip-hop charts.

Everyone seems comfortable with the beat. For those who have been to Studio 8 more than once, dancing is a breeze because the DJ's transitions have already been ingrained into the body.

But newbies need not be afraid. It's all user-friendly music carefully selected for the rhythmically-challenged.

11:30 p.m. -- Big, shiny

and overrated

True to Studio 8 form, the music genre switches after half an hour. We have advanced to the first rock and roll tease of the evening.

Girls start whipping their hair so I start "defensive dancing": fast rhythmic movement of the elbows back and forth so as to hold one's ground.

Hey Wannabe Headbanger, I get it. Joan Jett loves rock and roll. Aerosmith walks this way. Yawn, yawn, I've heard it all before -- here, in fact.

To be fair, Studio 8 is actually a very nice venue. It still has some of the low stone walls and columns from the building's past banking days. The rest of the club's high ceilings and wide open floor space just beg to be filled.

And filled they will be. This is the hot topic of Studio 8's latest glossy-print advertising: The grand opening night of the "Diamond Room," the alleged VIP lounge to end all Northern California VIP lounges.

Let's be real. They painted the walls red, hung up some matching drapes, and glued some shiny rocks to the walls.

It's the same VIP lounge it's always been.

11:43 p.m. -- Mash no more

I thought mash-ups were supposed to be good songs blended in new ways that please the ear. The DJ proves me wrong.

11:51 p.m. -- Bringing it back

"One More Time" by Daft Punk. We are being dragged along the Studio 8 trip down Memory Lane to high school dances.

Midnight -- Bringing it back, version No. 2

Overdose on old hip-hop. Not old school hip-hop, old hip-hop, and not necessarily the good stuff.

12:10 a.m. -- Default

Back to more current hip-hop.

12:30 a.m. -- Two points for the DJ

The DJ actually makes a run downstairs to take my friend's request for Paper Boy's "Ditty." Within a couple of tracks, he plays it. I am impressed.

12:45 a.m. -- Minus two points for the DJ

Somehow "Ditty" transitions into Alice DJ's "Back in My Life." My brow furrows in disapproval.

1 a.m. -- Candy kids, without the candy

Old, old dance and rave tracks. Where are my plastic beads?

The DJ works wonders with his mash-up non-skills and lays the vocals of "This is How We Do" over the rave tracks.

1:15 a.m. -- Studio 8 realizes its clubbers are multi-ethnic

Cue obligatory -- and somewhat displaced -- block of reggaeton.

Definitely worth noting, Studio 8's clientele is surprisingly diverse. Ethnically, the attendees don't come close at all to matching the predominantly Caucasian girls featured on all the club's flyers. Don't go to Studio 8 expecting to bump into the models they post.

Age-wise, college students are at the younger end of the spectrum. I estimate the oldest person of the evening to be 40-something. It can be fun for the whole family!

1:26 a.m. -- Rock and roll tease, part II

Uh-oh. One of the go-go girls looks confused. Apparently someone doesn't know how to pole dance to Bon Jovi.

1:30 a.m. -- Can we go to Denny's now?

I sneeze and the music slows down. Enough.

Studio 8 can be a good time. If you're looking to host some friends from out of town or feel compelled to engage in a sweaty public dance workout, it's definitely worth looking into.

For those who can't stand repetition and predictability, though, Studio 8 is not the place to party. Go once for the experience, and download the music when you get home. Funky lights can be purchased at any party store, and you won't have to deal with the suffocating fog machine. Just add friends and you've got your own ultimate dance party.

Then again, I have no right to complain.

I get what I never pay for.

Suggest a club to review by e-mailing Mayka Mei at m1mei@scu.edu.