New York City has more than a single life and a single spirit; and like Jekyll and Hyde, one sleeps while the other wakes. The facet with which we are preoccupied is nocturnal, spectral and turbulent; a parasite upon its daytime alter-ego. The living aspect of the city after nightfall is bizarre, perverse, angry, passionate, feverishly inventive, mystifying, and melancholy.
This creature is built, not from unearthed flesh like Frankenstein's creation, nor is it built from concrete and girders, nor is it built from sweat and spit and hair— the waste products of humanity. It is an amalgam of our imaginations: an alloy of dread and lust and hope and ecstacy, hammered into a fierce shape by our own insistance that even chaos have a recognizable form. It has a living body. It breathes and it's heart beats. And in the city some call Gotham, that rhythm becomes music.
The heart of the NYC Gothic and Industrial communities are the danceclubs and concert halls, of which there exist many. Most are architecturally anonymous, cramped, unsanitary, poorly ventilated, and evoke a film noirambience which glorifies the very decrepitude which plagues it.
The scene is amazingly vital because of the enthusiasm and the creativity of the swarming clubgoers. It feeds upon itself and continually grows, even at the nightspots where everything is overpriced and watered down. Some of the clubs stay open past dawn, and few really get going before midnight; a great many people live for the nightlife and can never get enough. There is a never-ending competition to be more attractive, daring, creative, and extreme; and the social order reflects and rewards this.
New York City is home to many phenomenal bands, such as Mors Syphilitica, Controlled Bleeding, Foetus, The New Creatures, Loretta's Doll, Voltaire, and many unsigned acts certain to become favorites worldwide. New York has an intense and sarcastic spirit which is extremely conducive towards dark art of every kind.
