Firstly, the Dalston Boy’s Club is hard to find! I must have spent a good fifteen minutes running up and down Boleyn Road red-faced and flustered trying to find this venue for a gig that I was already late to. The owners are apparently notoriously publicity-shy and this shows as there is no signage outside and a wily scribble on the door(‘use other door’) must put off those who are not dedicated enough to finding this gem. Once inside, the Dalston Boys Club is a gorgeous little bohemian haven, with rugs scattered around the floor which were used as seating by half the audience, and hotch-potch furniture filling up the remainder of the space. There are random paintings and decadent mirrors leaning against the walls which give the impression that you have stumbled across an antique dealers garage by accident and a cute little balcony provides the best seats in the house. The whole place is just so beautiful and the(real!) candle light gives it a magical, mysterious glow — I’ll be keeping an eye out for other events here in the future for sure.