Let’s face it, it’s been a while since the city of Shanghai has gotten any serious action, what with live shows and solid parties still in hibernation. But rather than gripe, blue-balled, staring at a half-empty REEB, I take off for the final frontier of Shanghai nightlife: Chinese clubs.

After a quick shower and clean-ish shave, I walk to the famed MT Club to scope the surroundings. Trekking through the smoky terrain, my eardrums are bombarded by the opening line of that "I’m Blue" song.

Careful not to stare into any of the lasers beaming throughout the club, I manage to make it to the bar without tripping any alarms. The bartender is a bit confused by my laowai-ness, but I proceed to purchase a ping of Tsingtao for ¥40 and survey the room. Club-goers pick away at fruit platters and dilute whiskey with green tea to blaring techno remixes. I’m not convinced that (a) anyone is enjoying themselves and (b) there is a Western commode in the lavatory. Correct on both accounts, I head to the bastion of Chinese club land: Babyface.

I enter the cathedral-sized venue prepared to rage, only to be greeted by a room full of dudes, rolling their dice until the girls arrive. I consider a bottle of Chivas, but (a) I’m on the wrong side of ¥580 per bottle and (b) can’t stand bad scotch, so I settle on a ¥50 Tsingtao. As the DJ fades into Dr. Dre’s Next Episode, I sidle up to some unsuspecting bird, only to be pounced on by security for drinking on the dancefloor. Apparently, the parquet is governed by Prohibition-era regulations, so I down the remaining sips and bail.

I B-line over to Sky Club where the trim is just as fine, the music equally loud and the booze of the same ilk. Sky hits a younger demo, though, and there’s even a handful of foreigners. The obligatory gaudy chandeliers, neon lights and mirrors are still in effect, but seem less intrusive. Things are looking up, maybe because the ceilings are higher, perhaps because I’m on my third Tsingtao (¥40) or because a friendly fellow offers me a free shot. The DJ drops a tolerable James Brown mash-up and I see a smidgen of hope in Chinese clubland.

Dan Shapiro