clubbing in the burg
By Liz Barry on Jun. 24, 2009
It’s just past 11 on a Friday night, and the dance floor at Cattle Annie’s is almost empty. Along the outskirts, groups of 20- and 30-somethings huddle together, sipping drinks and eyeing the floor.
Barbara Dubose doesn’t care. As “Baby Got Back” thumps on the speakers, Dubose moves and grooves like nobody is watching. So elaborate are her moves, she could hold her own in one-woman music video.
“Normally, I’ll outlast any DJ,” she says, while taking a break during a slow song.
Dubose, who works for Genworth, lets her inner dancing diva emerge on the weekends. Her moves are one part Janet Jackson, one part Beyonce and one part Usher.
“I think honestly, I was dancing in my momma’s belly,” says the 48 year-old, who could easily pass for a 20-something.
Dubose has been a regular of Lynchburg’s dance scene for years. Behind her contagious energy lurks frustration about
the city’s lack of dance clubs.
She’s not alone. Countless others interviewed cited lackluster nightlife, especially when it comes to dancing, as a major drawback to the city. The lack of nightclubs prompts some to make trips to Roanoke or Charlottesville.
Though options are limited, several venues do exist for those determined to dance. There are old standbys like Cattle Annie’s and the Imbibery at the Kirkley Hotel, along with events like the Summer Dance Series, where the Academy of Fine Arts’ Warehouse Theatre gets transformed into a club for three nights of dancing. Added to the mix are a healthy number of bars where spontaneous dancing breaks out on a regular basis (Marilyn’s Hot Rod Café, the Local Pub and Rivermont Pizza, to name a few).
This past weekend, I put on my dancing shoes and set out to hit up as many as possible. My goal was to check out the vibe of each place, interview locals about Lynchburg’s club scene, or lack thereof, and, most importantly, to dance.
On Friday night, my first stop was The Imbibery at the Kirkley Hotel. Though this independently owned hotel on Candlers Mountain Road might seem an unlikely place for a dance club, the venue attracts a loyal following who come out to drink, dance and have a good time.
On peak nights, there’s a line out the door to get in, regulars say. Tonight, there is no line but the floor is bumping to the lineup of oldies and country music by 10.
The atmosphere is like a dim speakeasy, with antiquated burgundy and green floral wallpaper and movie-style light bulbs lining the ceiling. Behind the dance floor is a separate lounge with booths, where couples and friends can chat in relative quiet.
In the lounge, friends Kim Hammond and Lucy Graves sip on margaritas and survey the scene. It’s their first time at The Kirkley. They made the 30-minute drive from Hurt for a night of dancing.
“We usually go to Cattle Annie’s but were just tired of it. It’s the same old, same old,” says Hammond, who has a good first impression but has yet to dance.
At a booth near the dance floor, Troy Woodford of Altavista, takes a break after dancing with his wife to “Brick House.”
Woodford been coming to The Kirkley for about 20 years, and has seen the music and crowd evolve. When he needs a change of scene, he makes the hour-long drive to Roanoke for a night at Corned Beef & Co.
“It’s a shame to have to drive that far,” he says. “We need more nightclubs. Definitely.”
Carl Williams of Lynchburg has been coming for 21 years. On the dance floor, Williams stands out as a man who knows how to move. He’s smooth and confident, segueing effortlessly from one song to the next.
He speaks of the heyday of Gatsby’s on Lakeside Drive, which he says was “one of the best clubs Lynchburg ever had.” Gatsby’s, which later became Millennium, has been closed for several years.
“It wasn’t just one group of people. It wasn’t all rock and roll. It wasn’t all rap. It was all the music combined.”
These days, Williams comes out to The Kirkley just about every weekend. At 42, he feels too old for Cattle Annie’s.
“I mean, this is it. This is all we got,” he says.
Around 11 p.m., I’ve had my fill of The Kirkley and head to Cattle Annie’s for some high-velocity dancing. As I pull into the parking lot, I can hear the bass thumping from inside.
While The Kirkley was hopping, Cattle Annie’s is just warming up. Tonight, there’s a DJ playing Top 40 hits.
A hip hop song that I do not recognize comes on, and a wave of people heads to the dance floor. Lights flash, bodies grind and sway, group of friends dance together in tight circles. It’s the closest thing to clubbing that Lynchburg has to offer.
Cattle Annie’s feels like a large warehouse, with no-nonsense concrete floors and a large dance floor. The crowd, dominated by people in their 20s, is noticeably younger than The Kirkley’s.
It’s also flashier. Men and women are dressed to impress in their best going-out clothes.
On guys, polo shirts and jeans are the norm, evoking either preppie or hip-hop depending on the style. On the ladies, it’s a mix of bright tank tops over jeans, glammed-out mini dresses with heels, or some variation thereof.
At Cattle Annie’s, people spin the same story about the lack of dance clubs. Corned Beef and Co., Blueberry Hill and 202 Market are the venues most often cited by those who venture to Roanoke.
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Just before 1 a.m., I head home to rest up for another big night.
My approach to Saturday is more spontaneous than my pre-meditated visits to Cattle Annie’s and the Kirkley where I called ahead to get details. Tonight I am a girl in search of a dance party.
I have a tip from a waiter at La Carreta that there’s a Latin music at a small Hispanic market downtown. I had been to a word-of-mouth salsa dance before, so I am optimistic.
When we pull up, the parking lot is empty. Not a single car, not a single soul.
Plan B is to head to the Elks Lodge on Fifth Street. I’ve passed it on the weekends before, and have seen a line spilling out the door. Plus, several people I interviewed the night before said they come here to dance.
This time, the parking lot is full, and hip-hop music is faintly audible from the street.
But I run into trouble at the door. The man checking IDs eyes my outfit with disapproval — skinny jeans, tank top and gold shoes.
“I’m not letting her in dressed like that,” I hear him murmur to a lady in a floor-length dress.
Turns out, tonight is a black tie ball. I chat with the club’s president, Leonard Washington, who explains that they do hold dances for the public, but not tonight;
it’s a special event.
Dejected, I head home and put my dancing shoes away for another day.
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