There’s a bit of a puff piece on Korova in The Guardian today, as part of some advertorial section sponsored by Nissan.
It hits the nail on the head about Korova in that it ignored the jingly-jangly stoned cosmic scouse thing that was all the rage in Liverpool a few years ago, and I quite like Korova even if a stupid haircut seems to be a pre-requisite to get in these days.
The piece reminds me a bit of the kind of thing we used to have in Black+White, the magazine that I ran along with half of Liverpool’s journalistic fraternity a few years ago. One of our very last blags as the people behind B+W was to get into the Korova opening night a few year ago.
Here’s a bit of the article, which doesn’t merit a by-line for some reason, and a link:
Merseyside’s live music scene has traditionally been dominated by retro-leaning guitar bands. By contrast, Korova has made a name for itself by hosting exciting, forward-thinking acts who meld dance and rock: arty New Yorkers Liars and Celebrations played the opening night; Klaxons’ first show outside London was at Korova; and CSS, Crystal Castles, Friendly Fires, Late Of The Pier and Soulwax’s deck-wrecking alter-ego 2ManyDJs have all performed riotous sets at here.
Crucially, however, Korova hasn’t alienated the old guard – you’re just as likely to see Ian McCulloch or Pete Wylie sweep through its stencilled glass doors as you are Murph from The Wombats.
In fairness I’m not sure Wylie’s ever found a bar he didn’t like, but that’s by-the-bye. I don’t exactly consider an encounter with ‘Murph from The Wombats’ a reason to head down there either but I’m sure all the cool kids do.
“Every night, the bar draws people from different crowds and everyone sits happily together,” concludes [Ruben] Wu, ruminating on Korova’s enviable sense of community.
I haven’t been in Korova for a while, but the toilets seemed to play host to Liverpool’s largest fruit fly community. If that’s what the kids are into these days, who am I to argue?