Rai'd or Die

Sexton was founded by feared Soviet motorcycle gang the Night Wolves in the mid-nineties. Ten years and change later, it continues to party on, Wayne. Who'd have guessed the hog & hiefers lifestyle, with its binge drinking, violent beatings, down-for-whatever chicks and white pride, would resonate so well in Russia? Just doesn't add up.


At any rate, three cheers! Sexton is a welcome breath of stale beer from the tired elitny club scene. No where else can you breeze through feis kontrol in a pit-stained Kiss t-shirt -- unless it's Simachev Bar or Solyanka and you are firmly, visibly, unequivocally steeped in irony.


Normally, biker bars are a good place to get your head bashed in non-ironically. But now that the Night Wolves are upstanding middle-aged Putinites, there's much less chance of gang rape, much more chance of fun.

Viva la Lucha Libre!

Predictably, Rai saw how much fun Sexton was having with biker kultur and wanted in on the action. From the looks of their 2,000 euro Ducatti jackets and gleaming D&G belt buckles, it seems something was lost in translation.

It's not the size of your bike, it's how many Rai hoodrats you can fit on it.

"The South will Rai'se again!"

Sexton, 110 Nizhniye Mnevniki, Metro: Oktyabrskoye Pole, Tel. 8 926 4097149

Photos: geometria.ru, mainpeople.ru

No Oirish Need Apply

The Oirish have a right to drink. Not only has the proud Celtic culture been reduced to Lucky Charms and theme bars, you have places like Rai in Moscow Effing Russia co-opting their sacred holiday of the apostle St. Patrick saving all the potatoes from leprechauns. And making it really skanky. Jameson, you Uncle Tom!

Riverskank

You think that everyone loves the Oirish but look how many of them made it into Rai. A sea of Slavs without an O'Drunky in sight. What the hey, Rai. The Oirish are fun, too. So cute you want to feed them cereal out of your pocket. Moreover, now they're all at Silver's, feeding me Long Islands and making me sing folk songs about hating the Engrish until I can't stand anymore.

Barman! I'd like a refreshing beverage...

Can you recommend anything?

Just to wet my beak.


What to have, what to have...

What am I here for again?

I'd recognize that dewy Northern European alcoholic facial slick anywhere. An Oirish slipped inside -- get him!


Don't be fooled. That elephant always has green lasers coming out of its eyes.

As usual, Andreas takes it completely beyond the Pale with his fashion choices.

C-Rai-Mes of Fashion

Russian clothing line Orby designs clothes for kids with young, hip parents. You know, the kind who aren't afraid to leave them in the Hummer with the driver while they get their drink on in a club. Like Britney Spears. So it makes sense that Orby would debut its collection at Rai, where the laws that govern adult behavior (and fashion) in the rest of the world do not apply.

Irresistible and confusing urge to punch a child.

Girl, they wanted a cat.

Did you know you were gay before they dressed you?

Sometimes when Mommy drinks she makes bad decisions. Mommy's sorry.

Yea, your jeans are cool, but your girlfriend has horsey face.

Forget the silly clothing. Your parents left you alone with Sergei Zverev? They must really hate you.

Say what you want about belittling children, the fact of the matter is that all these fuckers got into Rai, and we didn't. Waaaaaaa!

Photos: fashiontime.ru

Saty-Rai-con

I’m trying to shake the winter doldrums by looking at photos from Rai, which takes it back. Waaaay back. Pagan, naked, super-camp — humankind hasn’t partied this degenerately since 99 AD.


Fellini couldn’t make this shit up. Drenched with sexual juices, rolling in glitter, Rai is a terrifying glimpse into the ancient depravity that exists in each and every one of us, if we can just get past face control.


Somewhere between heaven and hell, this Rai, although last weekend’s inclusion of Boy George tipped the scales towards the latter. Who better to take part in the pre-Christian orgiastic fury than a man recently charged with false imprisonment of a male hustler. If Rai could get R. Kelly up in there, it would be quite an interesting afternoon.

Doesn’t promoter Andreas look like a fun-size Caligula? Doesn’t he just?

Close the window! Go back to from whence you came! Once you realize there’s a place on earth you can indulge every perverse fantasy, including bug-eye sunglasses, you can never feel pleasure again!


Enough. I’m nauseous of boobs and lasers.

Photos: geometria.ru

A-Rai-yan Nation

Something in the water at Rai? It's starting to resemble "Village of the Damned," or perhaps Hitler's grooviest vision of the future. These photos are from last weekend's Bob Sinclair concert, where your corny endormorphic girlfriend and her friend were playing Olsen Twins.


In other news, I'm going on strike until people start posting more comments. I have a Statcounter; I know I'm not just writing this for myself. Russia, United Arab Emirates, Korea, Davis — you take and you take and you take of the MDBIT and you gives nothing back. But, no one rides for free. Look, I don't make any money off this thing. All I want is attention. And expensive panties.

A Very Special Episode

With magical blogging, you can wish things into being. Such as Fresh Art’s Russian Fashion Week party last weekend, which assembled 4 out of 5 of our plastic surgery train-wrecks in the same room, plus a handful of other recurring MDBIT characters. If Danila Polyakov had shown up, I would have shut down down this dangerous, dangerous voodoo doll of a blog.

This is Fresh Art. They used to go to my gym. Now they look sort of human, but there was a time when they ran around in ass-length gold dreadlocks and blue contacts. They are a Russian design trio. What do they design? Oh, everything.

Homo-erotic underpants.

Butt-ugly shoes.

Babies.

They also excel at soft lens photography of backwards multiculturalism; shooting music videos with wax figurine Liza Sharikova; and hella socializing. When Fresh Art threw a party — a Fresh P-Arty, hehehe — at Elysium, the concert hall wing of Rai, on October 20, everyone came.

Rai promoter Andreas pays homage to Fresh Art's early-'90s, irony-less cool by shaving patterns into his flattop.

Holy crap, those Dyagilev chicks weren't even famous before, just an Internet meme. Now they're hanging on the corpse of Sergei Zverev.

Fresh Art can't leave home without Sharikova's mummy.

Even Sasha Feis Kontrol heeded the call.

Some new stars of the plastic surgery world were born.

Looks a little bit like the last days of Hitler's bunker.

I guess I'll round this off with photos of one of the Fresh Artists mauling a dancer. Don't call him gay!


Rai, 9 Bolotnaya Nab., Metro: Polyanka, Borovitskaya, Tel. 767-1474

Photos: freshart.ru, geomteria.ru