From beneath the ashes of Oracle Resto-Lounge scuttles Static, New Haven’smost-recently-opened nightclub.The Crown Street discotheque has proven itself ineligible for the title of“newest.”
Static hosted its maiden dance party Jan. 21, the first in a series of “College Thursdays” marketed to New Haven’s bounty of young revelers. But its environs, a tired refrain of flashing spotlights, the VIP veranda and the cordoned off 21-and-over bar nook, fail to deliver the verve of a fresh space. The week-old club’s floors have already grown sticky. When asked what set the club apart, promotional manager Steve Gentile said theplace asked for a “low price at the door, and we’re totally overstaffed on security.” Cheap, safe entertainment: like people-watching at Walmart. The two-room, two-bar layout and $2 coat check are at least a few strata above the single writhing mass of a Toad’s Place party. And at Static, all 12 college students who voluntarily enter the club before 9:30 p.m. pay no cover charge!
Unlike Toad’s, Static seems frantic to prove its worth. Patrons equally eager– to lubricate with some top 40 hits and Ed Hardy beer– will likely find themselves gyrating just as smoothly as they would at any other club.
The unexceptional Static may ultimately rely on external generators for the electricity club-goers desire. The club’s VIP section sold out for its second major event last night, an evening with Mike “The Situation” Sorrentino from MTV’s latest subcultureploitation “Jersey Shore.” The crowd mirrored the show’s cast with jarring accuracy. According to Gentile, a slew of additional guests and theme parties will abound in the coming weeks. These, the carefully budgeted jolts of outside vigor, will hopefully keep Static away from buzzing defibrillators.
Chandeliers hang from the main dance floor’s periphery like self-conscious tweens, eyelids beset with too much glitter. A bare brick interior clashes with the entrance’s floral wallpaper clashes with a lone Audrey Hepburn print in the corner clashes with the sheen of metallic spandex mini-skirts reflecting off freshly greased hair. Something about the entire place reflects in on itself: the Studio-54-meets-urban-blacklight-bar atmosphere expresses full self-awareness, conceding anxiously to cliché.
Static proves that sometimes, a club need only provide an unadorned stage for the comedy, tragedy or reality TV that unfolds.