London's nightlife is a mercurial proposition. There is no such thing as a prescribed evening; there is no certainty that the small, subterranean cell on Kingsland Road you were in on Saturday — hair slick with sweat, your arms imprinted with stamps — is still there this weekend.
Often these venues are Rooms of Requirement: the result of very specific moods and moments on one specific evening. One night you want something riotous and ridiculous, like Lady Gaga’s surprise gig at MOTH Club last Friday; next week you’ll want something different, and you’ll be south of the river. London will deliver.
