I’ve been wanting to write about .TAG for a long time, but could never find the words. Now, as the club heads into its final weekend in the Poly Center, it’s time to face the music.
The club is the centre of our local universe. Countless nights and days have been spent stomping the concrete of its hallowed dancefloor. I’ve been a regular there for over ten years – first walking in as a spirited 20-something, now writing about it as a .TAG HAG in her mid-thirties (lol).
For my Chengdu friends, we probably met at .TAG. After a decade of dancing, we know that space like the back of our hand — the staircase to Hidden Bar, the janky toilet lock, and the hiss of the fog machine — the thump of the soundsystem at peak time, the sunrise view, the bing-bong of the elevator saying it’s time to go home…
There’s a sense of belonging that comes with being a regular in any given space. Much like dearly missed watering holes Steam Hostel and Morning Bar, .TAG is a place that feels like home. As Ed from the Chemical Brothers told author Emma Warren in her book Dance Your Way Home, “a nightclub is something you’re a part of. It’s a club. You’re a member. Members attend, regularly.”
In the beginning, the Poly Center (Building A to be precise) was full of clubs and bars, inhabited by a drunken mix of locals and laowai going up and down the elevators.
While live music was thriving in grungy dives like Hemp House, Lan Town and Jah Bar, dance culture was taking off in this unsuspecting highrise. Back then, the building still felt unfinished — the walls were held up with construction boards and the floors were littered with empties and balloons. Bass boomed along the hallways, as punters traded intel about who was playing where.
.TAG opened in the top corner of the Poly Center in March 2014, a few doors down from its raucous neighbour Here We Go, decked out with a rasta sign and a stripper cage on the dancefloor. The 16th floor was home to hiphop club NASA and after hours spot 1602, formerly a psytrance club run by DJ BLUE.
Often referred to as the Golden Age, those early years from 2014 – 2017 were wild, exhilarating and messy. With clubs on nearly every floor, the building was packed every weekend: you’d have to queue for the elevator, then wait as it stopped at the other floors before finally reaching .TAG and Here We Go at the top. The entire vibe was electric, everybody tacitly knew it was something special, and to enjoy it while it lasted.
There’s not so much video evidence of the time. As phones in the mid-2010s couldn’t shoot well in low light, and social media hadn’t developed stories or long video sharing, punters were somewhat less distracted. Perhaps I’m looking back with rose-tinted glasses, but that’s what blogs are for…
In 2017, .TAG narrowly escaped closure during the “noise pollution” crackdown, which saw the demise of other clubs and bars in the building including Here We Go, 1602, and NASA. With dogged persistence, .TAG managed to remain as the sole club in the Poly Centre, continuing all throughout Covid, for some of her finest years.
My .TAG memories are abundant but hard to grasp – I can see them all swimming around in there, but they scatter once I reach in. The transcendental nature of the dance, or too many ‘breakfast beers’? Lol. Perhaps some things are best left unwritten…
Musically, the sheer number of world-class artists we’ve had the pleasure of experiencing is boundless. Hearing Ben UFO in the club after years of post-Covid rescheduling is surely a highlight of recent years, not to mention Mama Snake, Blind Observatory, Physical Therapy, Priori, CEM, Stella Zekri, Yu Su, Orpheu the Wizard, Nose Drip, Hector Oaks, Haruka, Jensen Intercepter, Valentino Mora, Blue Hour… as well as Sobolik and Amor Satyr during the ‘Chameleon’ episode of .TAG history in May, where the club temporarily moved to the 20th floor to evade their ban on opening.
International headliners aside, the memories I will cherish the dearest are those with the local community. It’s been a blast seeing my friends evolve as DJs over the years in the club and beyond, including HAO, DJ Blue, Xing, Cora, Heling… as well as regulars from around the country like Mau Mau, MIIIA, Knopha etc etc etc… Yang Bing‘s monthly residency around 2017 that would pump till midday… And we welcomed those who relocated to Chengdu like Sanyo, DJ Pex, Lv Zhiliang, and Zarah.
The visual artists deserve a mention. Memorable installations include Seafood Party, where each edition featured a gigantic sea creature designed by paper artist Stephane, the glam red drapes of the Blue Night circus, the silver sparkles of 6G+, the laser eye robot head of Crater Records, the sci-fi snake pit of Chengdu Express, the “convenience store” of Bianli, where the DJs sporadically threw packaged snacks into the crowd… and the more budget-conscious designs, shout out to Elevator for the Meituan undies taped to a Chinese lantern for the Spring Festival Pajama Party.
A quick performance roll call: Yihao performing their drag show in gigantic heels, crushing any stray gin and tonics in their way. Asian Dope Boys takeover of the 21st floor in the early days. Wu Zhuoling always carving the way with her live set.
And of course, the annual Spring Festival celebration, a mammoth week of parties featuring friends of the club and local artists returning to Chengdu for the New Year. Heling playing ‘We Are The Champions’ (an old Steam tradition that was played after the foozball final) to close the Hidden Bar. The hotpot run by Shawn Dou (Rest in Peace). The massage ayis brought in for the second day of the marathon. The 2019 edition was an all new level of mass delirium, with stellar nights from Kyle Geiger for Seafood Party, Acid Camp, and the Smoke Machine crew from Taipei. The following year we livestreamed the entire 36h marathon on cdcr.live. Lest we forget.
Whilst the closure is devastating, the news comes as no surprise. Music venues, particularly ones associated with LGBTQ+ communities, have been under pressure for years now, especially with international sporting events like the Chengdu University Games putting authorities on alert for signs of subversive behaviour. (.TAG’s original closing parties were planned for 16-17 August, but in typical fashion were postponed due to the World Games).
.TAG itself has been under pressure since a dancefloor incident went viral on Weibo two years ago, attracting unwanted attention from both homophobic netizens and local authorities alike. After a short closure, the club enforced a ‘no photos’ policy and increased ‘bouncing’ at the door in a bid to protect the club from prying eyes, but the problems persisted.
Last minute event cancellations, noise complaints, and even stakeouts (police famously sleeping at the club doors one night to ensure no one went in) have continued to hamper the club, despite efforts to comply. I spoke with a well-known promoter recently who said the government were cracking down on LGBT communities in an effort to combat the declining birth rate… Queerness is now a matter of national security.
In May, the final nail in the coffin came with the club being ordered to close at 2:00am. Anyone who has ever been to .TAG knows 2:00 am is not even peak time, as most partygoers don’t tend to leave the house until midnight.
Whilst it is not the end for the iconic club (owner Ellen is scouting a new location), .TAG’s expulsion from the building marks the end of an era for Chengdu club culture.
Births have been celebrated, deaths have been mourned, unions, romances, broken bones… There have been too many nights and days of joy, hilarity and ridiculous lore for us to forget (or remember with any real clarity).
And so, we bid farewell to the Poly Centre. Host to some of the wildest parties in China, its absence will be felt deeply for years to come.
Here’s to the madness, the mess and the magic.
Thank you, .TAG, see you at the next one.
.TAG will celebrate its last parties this weekend on 30-31 August, 2025
Tune in to the livestream at http://cdcr.live
KIWESE 