Arc
6 Hubert St
New York, NY 10013
(at Hudson St.)
map to Arc
subway directions to Arc
phone: 212.226.9212
status: Closed
web: Arc (Closed)
place type: Afterhours,Dance Club,Euro,Gay/Lesbian,Hipster,Under 21
music: Electronica, House, Techno, Trance
get there:
A,C, or E to Canal Street or 1,2 to Franklin Street
description:
Getting there will give you a lesson in Manhattans geography and once inside youll get a lesson on how to dance, dance, dance. This is the old Vinyl, one of New Yorks legendary clubs, and with the exception of the installation of the legendary Phazon sound system, the only thing that has really changed is the name. Today, Arc stills hosts the biggest New York house and garage DJs and is a direct link to New Yorks nightclubbing past. Arc is sparse inside, essentially just a large dance floor with a DJ booth taking center stage. The bar is small, selling more water than anything else since they do not have a liquour license. And, the lounge behind the DJ booth is raw by club standards. The atmosphere is always high energy and the music is some of the best dance beats in the city. Get ready, get down and get your groove on.
- clubplanet.com

Vinyl, 6 Hubert St., @ Hudson St. (212) 343-1379
Home to three of the best regular weekend party's in New York. There's Be Yourself on Fridays starting at midnight ($20), Club Shelter on Saturdays at 11pm ($17), and Body and Soul, the non-alcoholic Sunday House party, from 4pm - late ($15). Subway: A, C, E to Canal St.; 1, 9 to Franklin St.
- ny.com

Best Hardcore House Head Night - Be Yourself
With no drunk idiots, dress codes, and pretenses, Danny Tenaglia's Friday-night BE YOURSELF parties are always about the music. The night may flirt with early-'80s synth washes, it might stutter along with Missy Elliott's newest breaks, or it could hammer away incessantly until the revolution explodes at its peak. Any which way, it's trademark Tenaglia—a mix of heavy percussion, long trancelike spells, and accessible vocals dished out in marathon sets by one of the most dedicated DJs in the biz. -Carla Spartos
Vinyl, 6 Hubert Street, Manhattan 343-1379
- thevillagevoicethebestofnyc.com

Nightlife & Entertainment: Best Dance Clubs
At three on Sunday afternoons, when hungover brunchers are still sipping Bloody Marys, dancers begin to pack Vinyl (6 Hubert Street, near Hudson Street; 343-1379) for Manhattan's best dance party: "Body & Soul" courses madly until eleven, as Francois K., Danny Krivit, and Joe Claussell spin effusive, vocal-heavy house for a manic crowd of ecstatic club kids, Chelsea boys, Euro techno-tourists, and more, all of whom can make it to work or school on Monday, bosses and profs none the wiser. An ugly, out-of-the-way club with black walls, black lights, and science-fair string art, Vinyl, which doesn't have a liquor license, is not a lounge, rock club, singles bar, or nightclub: It's where people go to dance. Marquee dance clubs like Limelight, Tunnel, Twilo, and Life have sacrificed their dance floors to weekend marauders who'll pay $25 covers. Sure, Twilo's Friday-night series attracts D.J. superstars like Plastikman, but even Junior Vasquez's boys, on Saturday, have ceded his floor to the B&T crowd (until near dawn, at least). Limelight's glittery new "artistic" focus has brought more spectators than ravers to Peter Gatien's squeaky-clean cathedral, and for years Life has felt more like Death.
Though Vinyl just scored marquee D.J. Danny Tenaglia for alternating Friday nights, you won't find the brushed steel and video walls of the megaclubs inside. But you also won't find a bar full of swooning lushes, smarmy sleazes, and smug geektronica boys who dare you to clap at the wrong moment: Such alcoholic wallflowers would wilt in the heat. As the unabashedly upbeat, anthemic music surges on Sunday afternoons, temperatures rise from sauna to lava (at least one "water-resistant" watch was ruined by the steam). Like members of a ravercise fitness club, hard-core clubbers drop their leather and plastique poses in favor of bare, sweaty chests, sports bras, and drenched tank tops. Somehow, Vinyl has made clean fun hip and attracted a crowd as diverse as New York itself: On Easter Sunday, dreadlocked rastas flailed with boffo boys in bunny ears and a head-spinning break-dancer. In this virtually drug-free environment, panting athletic bodies sucked down Gatorade and Snickers by the "bar," while a Waspy prep lost his mind, flailing with a Japanese ravegirl. On the tiny stage, a man grooved in a pink-ribboned bonnet and khakis pulled up past his rib cage, while a club warrior in a terry-cloth bathrobe waved glowing sabers above screaming teenagers. Vinyl has made a virtue of its poor location, nonexistent bar, and terrible décor: It's kept the posers, pushers, and barflies at bay. Little more than a dance floor with four walls, heat, sweat, music, and sheer exuberance, Vinyl is unrivaled.
- from the may 3, 1999 issue of new york

- description of vinyl from Shecky's bar, club & lounge guide 2002

- bodyandsoul-nyc.com