Tala Mortada was in the hairdressers when the explosion happened. Under a shower of shattered glass, the chief creative director of Factory People, a community of artists that owns two clubs in Beirut (The Grand Factory and AHM), got back to her feet and went to find her family and friends, rushing home through a post-apocalyptic Beirut.

"Before thinking about the club I made sure my colleagues were OK," Mortada said. "The fact that nobody was there is a miracle. I asked them not to show me images of the club until the next day."

On August 4th, 2020, 2,700 tons of ammonium nitrate exploded in Beirut's port. Although it's still unclear how they blew up, the government's knowledge and negligence towards those deadly chemicals claimed the lives of more than 200 people, injuring 6,000 and leaving 300,000 homeless. The World Bank estimated more than $4 billion of damage was caused by the blast.

The Grand Factory, Factory People's winter venue, was heavily damaged, while AHM, their three-year-old outdoor club, was totally destroyed because of its proximity to the location of the explosion—it's just a five-minute drive from the port. As much of Lebanon's nightlife was centred a short walk away from the port where the ammonium nitrate was stored, AHM is one of the hundreds of bars, clubs and restaurants hit by the blast.

The neighborhoods of Mar Mikhael, Gemmayzeh and the newly built waterfront real estate project are home to bars, restaurants and clubs, less than one mile away from the hangar that housed the fatal ammonium nitrate. A few years ago, Beirut was earning headlines as one of the world's best places to party, a must-visit city for techno tourists. Today, the city is synonymous with hyperinflation, chemical explosives and teargas.

AHM Before and after explosion

In 2012, Nemer Saliba founded Uberhaus, a series of weekly parties showcasing international electronic artists. A year later, Uberhaus opened The Gärten, a dome-shaped club located next to AHM along Beirut's waterfront. It quickly became a staple of the city's nightlife. "We joined the big boys," Saliba said, referencing venues like Elefteriades, the Music Hall and SKYBAR. "It was a beautiful dome, it was a beautiful club." The Gärten's signature was its majestic view of the sunrise over Beirut. At around 6 AM, the club would reach its apex, the music blasting, the dance floor on the brink of explosion. DJs who have partied in some of the hippest venues in the world, as well as Beirut locals, cherished that sunrise.

The Gärten had a clear view of Mount Lebanon and Beirut's port, including the hangar where the chemicals blew up. "Can you imagine if the blast happened with a full club?" Saliba asked. "Can you imagine if AHM and all the other clubs around were open? It would have been a bloodbath."

Multiple outdoor venues neighbour The Gärten along Beirut's waterfront. There's Iris Beirut, a trendy bar frequented by Beirut's elite; SKYBAR, located on the rooftop of the popular O1NE nightclub; and Factory People's AHM, which opened in 2017, three years after The Grand Factory.

It only took a second for August's blast to wipe those clubs off Beirut's map. "The material damage was nothing compared to the disappointment you feel when you realize that 15 years of work could amount to this," said Jade, Factory People's chief executive officer.

As an engineer-turned-DJ, Jade has been working in the nightlife industry for almost two decades. In 2005, he opened his first club, The Basement. Mortada joined in 2010, directing The Basement's creative aspects. Together they started working on a series of weekly parties called C U NXT SAT. "The electronic music scene started growing at that time," said Mortada, "and we quickly realized we needed a permanent home." In 2014, they opened The Grand Factory.

The Grand Factory before and after

Lebanon's nightlife, like any other industry in the country, suffers from the political instability created by a corrupt political elite. In 2015, a nasty trash crisis drowned the country in garbage, forcing many businesses to close because of the foul odor, toxins from incinerated rubbish and growing hordes of insects and rats.

"That's when we realised we will never be able to throw outdoor events in that area," Mortada said, "and that we needed to set up a summer club elsewhere in Beirut, which is why we created AHM."

Most outdoor venues suffered from the trash crisis, which peaked during the summer of 2015. The Gärten was forced to close for five weeks. Despite the trash crisis, daily power outages and the looming threat of war with Israel, Lebanese nightlife flourished. Independent and underground spots as well as commercial clubs opened their doors to thousands of locals and foreigners. Musical artists, from philharmonic orchestras to electronic DJs to burlesque performers, visited Beirut on their way to and from Ibiza, New York, Cape Town, Tokyo, Singapore and Dubai.

The competition grew fiercer. Clubs were always looking for a better act, a more impressive light show, an improved soundsystem, a more dazzling venue and ultimately, the most memorable night.

For Adham Al Saabi, a digital content producer based in Beirut, "clubbing was a fun way to immerse in music and disconnect from the world. We created safe spaces in these clubs to escape the harsh reality of a failed system that serves the interest of the political bourgeois class only."

Since the civil war in 1975, Lebanon's nightlife has become an antidote to reality. The infamous B018, a bunker-like club with coffin-shaped seats, started as a series of parties organized by Naji Gebran in his chalet outside of Beirut. B018 perpetuated the idea of escapism through music. As their website states: "music is the cure that war-torn Lebanon needed."

The post-civil war generation passed on their trauma to their kids as well as their drive to party until dawn as a tool of resistance. In addition to The Gärten and The Grand Factory, other spots opened: Decks On The Beach, a weekly summer pop-up; then The Ballroom Blitz, a three-room club where local and international acts performed; and Nacht, The Gärten's winter location. These venues thrived amid the chaos of Beirut.

The view of the port from the DJ Booth at The Gärten.

On October 17th, 2019, protesters took their anger to the streets, fed up with the corrupt governing elite. Many institutions from the hospitality and club scenes encouraged their crowds to hit the streets, pausing their own work in the hopes of resuming in a better Lebanon. The year ended with no change in sight. And 2020, as we know, didn't bring good news. Lebanon suffered from an economic collapse and hyperinflation in addition to the pandemic that paralyzed the world.

"Today, 2019 feels like a dream," said Jade. "In 2019 we launched the first electronic music festival in the Middle East [Five Islands Festival], with 60 artists from all over the world, five stages, and 10,000 attendees on a weekend in August," he added. "We did feel a difference however in terms of spending power compared to 2018 as the economic crisis was already looming, and we decided to stop our operations during the start of the revolution from mid-October until mid-December, and encouraged our team and followers to claim their basic human rights."

Lebanon was on its knees. And on August 4th, it blew up.

Saliba was in The Gärten's headquarters in Gemmayzeh, one of the areas hardest hit, when the blast happened. Rushing from the office to his home in Mar Mikhael to check on his family, the street was filled with rubble, smashed cars and dead bodies. He said it was a sight that will scar him for life.

His story is similar to thousands of others in Beirut who were going about their day like any other Tuesday afternoon. Some went shopping in the few open outlets during a partial lockdown. Others were sipping coffee on outdoor terraces, or relaxing in their homes.

After the blast, no government entity reached out on an individual or professional level to offer any kind of help or shelter, said Jade.

According to Jad Abou Jaoude, a board member of the Syndicate Of Owners Of Restaurants, Cafes And Nightclubs, around $80 million needs to be allocated to the nightclub industry alone to rebuild it. But Lebanon's political situation isn't going to stabilize anytime soon, and a return to what nightlife was seems impossible.

"Is there even going to be a clubbing scene? Is it going to end?" asked Saliba. "First of all there's still a pandemic going on. Two, how much am I going to sell my drinks for, given the hyperinflation? Three, how am I going to get international DJs, with what money, since the banks froze everyone's assets? Do I want to rebuild? Yes, of course. Lebanon is a paradise, and it could have been amazing. It could have been."

The Gärten

The international clubbing community has come together to raise money and awareness, with compilations and fundraisers such as Radio Alhara's 30 Hours For Beirut. Nicole Moudaber teamed up with Beatport ReConnect in collaboration with WILD Tulum for Together For Beirut, a livestreamed event to raise funds for Lebanon. Another livestream, titled For Beirut, will take place on September 13th with Carl Cox headlining and 144 artists playing to raise funds for organisations that have been operating on the ground since the blast.

Factory People are launching Artists Against Corruption, a website streaming DJs and live acts from around the world, with the aim of "raising awareness about the Lebanese population's struggle to claim basic human rights and uniting against corruption, oppression and incompetence," Mortada said. People will also have the option to donate to Factory People employees who haven't been working since March, as well as Arcenciel and Egna Legna, two local organizations helping on the ground.

Despite the uncertainty in which Lebanon finds itself, some people, like Al Saabi, try to remain optimistic about the future. "I am sure most of the clubs will be able to stand on their feet again," he said, "and I hope that they do, instead of deciding to invest outside." When asked about his best memories clubbing in Lebanon, his answer is immediate: "Every sunrise at The Gärten."

Lebanese nightlife wouldn't have thrived in such a hostile environment if the people involved hadn't poured their heart and soul into it. But after everything that's happened, some wonder how much more they have to give.

"I want to give a message of hope," said Saliba. "I posted a beautiful video of Adriatique playing at sunrise at The Gärten, and the overwhelming support it received, the amount of love people have for The Gärten and that sunrise, it's more than love. It would be unjust of me to say that I wouldn't want to give those kind of moments back to the people of Lebanon. But also, I want to be selfish, live a good life and worry about my neighbour's dog on my lawn instead of a deadly blast."