Review: Sydney’s queer nightlife has its fair share of ups and downs. Every year after Mardi Gras, the crowds vanish almost overnight for a couple of weeks. Then, as winter kicks in, many revellers hibernate before thawing out in time for Halloween (aka gay Christmas), when the devil-horned demon twinks return to play.
But Flash, a new weekly club night geared towards gay men, is bucking the trend – proving that a warm, sweaty, pop-infused, multi-level dance party still has a place in Sydney’s wintry months.
From the moment you enter, the club night sets itself apart. Instead of herding punters into a single dark room, it sprawls across two levels, each with its own atmosphere, music and temperature. The top floor plays house, while the lower level delivers pop (sound familiar?).
To get to the first-floor pop room, you’ll first need to climb a flight of stairs before being greeted at the door, where you’ll pay $20 entry and receive a cheeky black stamp reading “WHORE” – a label that matches the night’s unserious, sex-positive tone.
Once stamped, head up more stairs, lit by a bright chandelier, and you’ll find where the real party is at.
The top floor has a rough-and-ready feel, like a house party that suddenly turned into a nightclub: I see three men in backwards caps, a couple of jock-looking boys, and, as the night wears on, a decent number of shirts off and at least three pairs of guys making out on the dancefloor simultaneously. The demographic feels mid to late 20s and beyond, though a handful of younger guys are in the house too.
Here on the top floor, there’s a bar with basic offerings (but no post-mix machine, which can slow things down a little), a rotating lineup of DJs surrounded by a halo of light (blue and green to start with), and plenty of space to stand, sip or sweat.
Flash is the brainchild of Seismic Talent Agency director and booking agent Joel Siviour (who, for reasons unknown, has Gay Sydney News blocked on Instagram – though to be fair, so does Heaps Gay, so maybe we’re the problem?); Ryan Marshall, a DJ who also manages venues including the Metro Theatre and Enmore Theatre; and Rojdar Zengin, a DJ who, according to LinkedIn, is the former general manager of Good Life Presents – an Australian festival tailored to 13 to 17-year-olds and run by Mushroom Group.
In weeks previous to the night I attended Flash, some attendees complained online that it was *too* sweaty upstairs, prompting the club night to respond by pumping cooler air-con through the venue. On the Saturday night we attended (GSN stayed until just before 3am), it got humid but never uncomfortably so. Three or four fans also blow at all times, keeping the heat bearable.
The top-floor music leans house-heavy, with occasional pop flirtations. DJ Adam Thomas, who played 11pm–1am, delivered house and tech-house beats, including a 2024 Fisher remix of Marlon Hoffstadt’s “It’s That Time”, while also teasing vocal hooks from Lady Gaga’s 2008 “Poker Face” (the JL & Afterman remix, according to Shazam) and Beyoncé’s 2003 “Crazy in Love”.
Next up was drag queen DJ DINGO DISCO (1–2.30am), who blends hard house, techno and trance with a touch of nostalgia. In their set, DINGO dropped a remix of David Guetta’s 2009 “Sexy Bitch” and the Kichta remix of The Pussycat Dolls’ “When I Grow Up”.
Meanwhile, TREYYY – a Melbourne-based flight attendant, DJ and self-described “rave baby” – made his Sydney debut at Flash, swapping the cabin for the decks and flying the crowd from takeoff to touchdown between 2.30 and 4am, proving Flash isn’t afraid to hand the controls to fresh talent.
As another hour passed, the halo of light around the top floor DJ booth shifted from cool blue and green to deep red, giving the space a moody, evolving personality.
But it’s not all shine: the top-floor bar shares a wall with gender-neutral toilets, and when the door swings open – often held ajar by a queue – a noticeable funk drifts through.
The open-plan layout and narrow passage between the bar and toilets create a bottleneck, with bathroom-goers and bar patrons caught in a traffic jam, and the scent seeping into places you’d rather it wouldn’t.
The fix? Head downstairs for a drink – or a slash – to dodge the pong. Thankfully, the top-floor dancefloor is far enough away that the stench doesn’t kill the vibe.
Need a breather? There are plush green lounges near the bar and mirrors with gold finishings, perfect for taking a long, hard look at yourself and wondering, “Why am I out at 2.30am at 34 years of age?” Oh that’s right – you run Gay Sydney News, and it is your duty (nay, your obligation) to review Flash.
If the top floor is for house and techno with the occasional pop detour, the lower level is where you lose your voice screaming Britney Spears and Lady Gaga lyrics. It’s also where the crowd lets loose – and increasingly, where they cool off after things get a little too intense upstairs.
On the lower level an upright piano sits in front of the DJ booth, but its presence quickly fades into the back of your mind as you tune into the pulsing, mostly throwback pop. The Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men” plays, as well as Madonna’s “Like a Prayer”; Gaga’s “Judas”, “Telephone” and “Abracadabra”; Spears’ “Gimme More”; and The Veronicas’ “Untouched”.
Just before 12.30am, a demon twink who somehow evaded winter hibernation climbs atop the piano and does the splits to screams of support.
As my back begins to ache just looking at this, I take a seat on a small three-seater couch near the side of the DJ booth, joined by friends who decided to come out at the last minute. Looking up, I spot a disco ball overhead and a fog machine working overtime.
Just before 2am, Kim Petras’ 2022 track “Treat Me Like a Slut” thunders over the speakers, sending a ripple through the pop room’s crowd that somehow manages to recharge the room all over again.
What sets Flash apart is its refusal to lose momentum. At 2.30am, the top floor is still pulsing with energy. There’s no clear “peak time” – the crowd simply doesn’t thin out like it does at some (though not all) events. That alone feels like a minor miracle.
What likely gets people in early are the $7.50 vodka sodas from 10 to 11pm, which jump to $13 after that.
Maybe it’s the venue’s smaller capacity that makes the crowd feel denser. Or maybe it’s the gap left by Poof Doof no longer throwing regular Sydney parties since Arq’s closure – a prime time to launch something new. Either way, it’s a vibe.
Throughout the night, the music cycles from nostalgic to filthy to euphoric and back again.
The crowd is mixed, though about 90 per cent are men. And, contrary to popular belief, not everyone has a moustache (despite what the digicam-shot marketing photos might suggest).
The vibe is laid-back but curious – groups mingling, a lone fan occasionally thwucking, vapes puffing, and the occasional scent of poppers wafting through the air.
In recent years, some Sydney clubs have chased the Boiler Room aesthetic – dark, sweaty, intimate. Flash doesn’t just mimic it; it plays with it and throws on a pop banger when things get too serious. Want to get behind the top-floor DJ booth? Go for your life. It also gives lesser-known DJs a platform, blends early-2000s pop with sweaty club beats, and – crucially – keeps the crowd engaged until close.
Flash may still be finding its feet, but it’s already doing something that’s hard to achieve in Sydney’s queer nightlife: keeping the dancefloors alive deep into winter.
If you’re looking for a place that feels both familiar and unpredictable, sweaty and cute, consider this your new Saturday night fix. Just don’t expect fresh air when buying your vodka soda on the top level.
Flash is located at 231 Oxford Street, towards the Paddington end, and runs every Saturday from 10pm to 5am, with last entry at 3am.
Editor’s note: Reviewer Ben Grubb has known Flash co-founder Ryan Marshall and DJ TREYYY for several years and once went on a holiday with Marshall that included mutual friends.
Correction: Zengin’s LinkedIn was updated after this article was published to reflect that he is the former general manager of Good Life Presents.
Gay Sydney News editor