An ode to the disco nap

The game is up. Magic FM is playing on the taxi’s tinny radio, saccharine melodies cutting through your stupor just long enough for the regret to set in. Back in the club, it’s only just getting started. The best selections are only now rolling out, but you’re making your sorry way home. Another potentially transcendent clubbing memory robbed by the ache in your knees and the break in your resolve. Sleep beckons. There’s no going back.

“Why does it matter?” you might ask. “Haven’t I had my fun?” Well sure, but FOMO’s already kicking in. Don’t you wish you could have been there for the jubilant end? It’s the final throes of the night where the real fun is to be had, and you’re missing it all.

Fortunately for you, it doesn’t have to be this way. There is an unsung hero in dance music, seldom spoken of but always there to save the day when called upon. Underappreciated and underused, this hero holds the key to energised partying. Who is this modest champion? Allow me to introduce the disco nap.

There are three essential types: The Intermission, as pioneered by those hardy Berghain types. This usually involves dipping out of the club around 11am on Sunday morning before returning at 6pm to see things through ’til Monday at dawn. This is a stealth operation and perhaps more than any other breed of clubber, Berliners know the true value of the re-entry stamp. Then there’s the ‘Hide And Sleep’, which involves finding a quiet corner of the club (we recommend camouflaging yourself with some coats) and shutting your eyes until people start covertly taking pictures of you and posting to social media. And finally there’s The Pre-Emptive, where you skip pre-drinks for a tactical hour or two’s kip.

Sleeping’s cheating, they say… but then so is powdering your nose like a period drama heroine; sometimes it’s OK to bend the rules. You want to dance ’til the very end? Then it’s time to embrace the pre-party slumber. Even the most tireless raver needs a little beauty sleep over the course of the weekend, and it can make the difference between throwing shapes as the euphoric 6am closer rolls out or being ruthlessly shaken awake at 3am by a begrudging Uber chauffeur.

The real tragedy of this is that if we’re honest, clubs don’t really get good until the silly hours. This is post-4am business, when those who came strictly for the bangers have had their fill and are now choking down chips on their journey home. Space opens up on the dancefloor, the music gets stranger and the vibe gets wilder. As peak time passes, so do the rules; the music can go anywhere. Expectations go out the window, the pressure’s off and the selectors are finally showing their freakiest colours. Those who came to get weird are loyal at the front, warm beer in hand and an unmistakable wildness in their eyes.

It’s not so hot, you’ve room to dance and the DJ’s pulling tunes that sound increasingly like they were made backwards, or underwater perhaps. The techno’s bendy, the house is sultry, and any sprinkles of disco are more Arthur Russell than Sister Sledge. The freaks are out in full force, and aren’t they beautiful? This, my friend, is what clubbing is meant for.

Of course, some cities are made for these people. In Berlin the Sunday morning U-bahn is awash with these folk, floating home for a few hours of bed and a banana before restarting the mayhem with a new lease of life, while in Buenos Aires the clubs don’t even open until 2am. But head to London or any other major UK city and what are your chances of doing the same? Apart from Fabric’s mammoth 30-hour birthday bonanza, opportunities for a more drawn-out, sleep-punctuated clubbing session are few and far between. In fact, in Hackney, thanks to new licensing plans, new venues may soon have to shut at midnight, enforcing more of ‘go home and go to bed’ policy than a nudge to nip out for a clubbing siesta.

Perhaps we need more ambient rooms in clubs, the chill-out spots where you can rest up for a while to take the weight off your feet, rather than conking out on a bar stool. But until that happens, why not spend the warm-up hours getting a little rest? This isn’t about sleeping through and waking up for a bourgeois, early-risers’ dancercise class; we’re talking about getting up at 3am and heading to the club so you’re fresh for the wonky hours. You’ll thank our friend the disco nap at the afterparty.

Andrew Kemp is a freelance writer, follow him on Twitter

Ellis van der Does is a freelance illustrator and designer, check her website