In a word – no.

 

Sex on the Beat is one of those nights where the second you walk in the dance floor is your destination. No drinks deals/shots/socialising (you know – shouting “How are youuuuu?” to people you barely know…) but straight for some of that BEAT. Despite the lack of queue, there was a sufficient size crowd. It seemed full but always room to get out your moves. And I mean arms-flailing-lets-dance-like-circus-animals moves.

 

Sex on the Beat was started about 2 years ago by an ex-Oxford student who recognised a niche in the market for an underground house night in Oxford. Before last term it was less known about by Oxford students; being more visited by the Brookes crowd. But now it has been taken under the wing of Rock Oxford (and we all know whose wing exactly that is) and so increased advertising to the Oxford crowd has brought in the troops.

 

Wednesday’s crowd was relatively harmless. Slightly less glow paint, glow bands and sunglasses (this is nuh-rave darling) than usual but there was still a definite element of ‘posing’ around. I will leave you to decide whether this lay with the Brookes or Oxford clubbers. As for the venue – well, Filth is pretty much Filth whatever the night. Sadly.
Wednesday was the first Sex on the Beat since the after party of the boat race at 12 Aukland Road.

 

The resident DJs, such as Sam Frazier, pulled out their usual dirty electro and underground house. Some sexy beats for sure. However, it was a little extra something which made the night for me: live bongo drumming over the music. Genius.

 

The night stretched out till 3am with few remarkable incidents to report on. Unless, that is, one counts the slight ‘dance-off’/‘get-out-of-my-space’ that I witnessed between two people. By witnessed, I mean had. Well, it’s all light-hearted at Sex on the Beat. This is Oxford after all.

 

The only negative about it (apart from people hitting you in the face through extravagant dancing) is the Filth sound-system which seemed to turn dirty, heavy beats into painful screeches.

 

Sensitive ears? Head to Lava and Ignite. For everything else, there’s Mastercard Sex on the Beat.