Dismantling the night: Johnny Club

I was sixteen years old the first time I went to the Johnny -officially Rio Club, but nobody called it that-. I went in hand in hand with a boy whose face I barely remember even though he had the privilege of accompanying me at the very moment when, as I crossed the threshold of the discotheque, I also entered the night once and for all.

The hours of darkness were no longer the cold moon and a song playing low from my grandmother's radio; Johnny's door opened for me to access a parallel world of lights, sequins, smoke, laughter, sweat and girls touching up their makeup in front of the mirror of a public restroom, and whoever has lived it knows that there is no possible return.

I should not have shown my identification and I assume the doorman's lack of interest as part of the nature of that joint, whose magic was out of tune in a funny way with its surroundings. And I am referring to the communion of so many diverse Havanas in the border area between the salt water and the Miramar neighborhood, full of rubble on the shores of La Puntilla and those huge buildings of exposed bones, hunched over their own misfortune.

There, too, the sea meets the Almendares. After crossing the city from side to side, it comes to rest (or to take the most turbulent tumble) at the gates of the Johnny, with religious vessels, floating animal offerings and, above all, the quiet murmur of its kiss to the barges dozing in the early morning.

After all this time, the buildings are still in place, the river continues its unchanging course and the sea receives it with the same ceremony, but it could be said that, in reality, things have changed. And so much!

***

After having been a winding rabbit hole in my 2000's initiation, El Johnny Club now enjoys a well-earned prestige, justified in what amounts to a certain exclusivity. A gleaming Instagram profile rubs it in the face of the rest of the clubs that this is its moment of glory. It looks like it has become an inaccessible site, with promoters, sponsors and a loyal audience by now.

As part of the new era, Ana de Armas chose it one night as part of her 35th birthday celebrations and from her stage Bebeshito and Ja Rulay remind Miami where the real cast was born.

Its doors are visited by those who can afford an evening with prices that have earned it the epithet of the most expensive bar in Havana and, perhaps for that reason, the greed of all those who persevere in the illusion of feeling at least for once, like me, the owners of the night.

The truth is that the Johnny Club post Covid is far from what it was until 2019, when in an attempt to give it a new life, it completed its reguetón lineup with rock and roll Fridays. The band Bonus had their home there for a few weeks, but by then the conditions of the place made the stay there almost unbearable.

The modest prices that set the entrance fee at one CUC, or its equivalent 25 Cuban pesos, and the beer at a maximum of 20, could in no way compete with the terrible state of the bathrooms, the broken down climate consoles and the abandonment in general: humidity, lack of paint, extremely damaged furniture. Johnny's deserved to be someone's dream again.

***

In the mid fifties, half surrounded by the landscape of a small pine forest and facing the sea, a small building called Johnny's Dream Club was built. Its programming was varied in terms of genres, as Rosa Marquetti recounts in her text Jazz at Johnny's Dream. The protagonists speakdedicated especially to this legendary site.

The following two decades saw the most mythical figures of filin, rock and jazz parade on this stage until it finally became, in the words of the musicographer, "the true epicenter of jazz in Havana and a spontaneous and unscheduled experiment in musical resistance", even slightly located outside the usual nightlife circles of this capital.

Names such as Paquito D'Rivera, Nicolás Reinoso, Alberto Aguilera, Pablo Menéndez, Enrique Pla, Carlos del Puerto or Jorge yoyi Soler were regulars on their instruments or part of an audience that knew what they were looking for and clearly where to find it.

Frank Emilio, Tata Güines, Guillermo Barreto were also regulars and even the last performance of Tropicana dancer Ana Gloria Varona is recorded here. Thus passed the 80's and the last decade of the century embraced it with its special period. The crisis, the oblivion, the silence.

***

The new administration of the restaurant officially rescued the name by which they never stopped calling it and now it is displayed in a giant light. It is not to be missed. Inside, any expectation is discarded because the concept in all senses is, to put it poorly, otherworldly.

Not a single person after going there could escape the comment "it doesn't look like Cuba". At this point it is difficult for me to discern whether this is a compliment or a cause for deep sadness, but it is clear that judging those who have returned absolute energy to "Juanito's dream" would be nonsense to say the least.

The redesigned space, the circular platform in the center to remind us that the show is still the most important thing, the cocktail bar, the lights... The Johnny is once again an oasis and some may question whether it is for everyone or for a minority.

It is not for everyone, as so many things in this and other worlds are not, returning to the hackneyed metaphor. As in the past, the most acclaimed voices parade on its stage because many things may have changed, but music, or at least some music, continues to confer status. And today's Cubans know it. They have always known it.

Thus, El Johnny de Miramar is in itself the expression of a good bad night, a hangover with a taste of victory, sweated to the rhythm that makes the Havana show business move, as thirsty as it was for a niche, a throne conquered in its own right.

Location: Johnny Club

Address: A between 3rd and 0, Playa, Havana

Management model: self-managed

Admission feeFree (With concert, cover variable)

Beer price: 650 CUP