3rd Floor,
536 Queen Street,
Auckland Central
Auckland,


(09) 377 3711

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4 out of 5

Khuja is a studenty, hippy kind of club—but one with broad appeal and, quite regularly, a very good vibe indeed.

It's quite telling that Tia, who I've met at a chi-chi Ponsonby opening, has turned her nose up at places perhaps more in line with her crowd but says, “Khuja? Yesss! I haven't been there in aaages.”

As the name suggests, this is a bar lounge. But the DJs are important and there is a door charge ($10) when we come, late on a Friday night, to hear Tangent and Decksterity.

There are bouncers here—but more, it seems, to keep the drinks inside than any particular kind of person out: Khuja is at the top of an upper Queen Street block and there is no smoking area, bar outside.

Its lofty position has a couple of big draws, though, and the first is the lift—“Built in 1922,” someone says confidently. “Check out the smell!” It's one of those wooden, cage-door jobs that reeks of history.

And the second? Well it's the view you have over Queen Street and K'Road, observable through iron-frame windows, from the comfort of low-slung leather couches set around candlelit cedarwood tables.

Yep, Khuja definitely has the bones of a unique, roosty venue, and it follows through.

It's decked out in a burnt-earth style, with ruddy walls, woven straw lampshades and a stone floor. It's distinctly North African in its feel, and wouldn't look out of place in Marrakesh.

Which kind of brings us to the clientele: if you could buy hash in New Zealand, there would be a generous lump of Moroccan black in many a pocket here.

There's a large dready contingent mixed in with the art-student types and creative professionals who come here. And, well, there are bongoes. And seriously dope beats.

Ah, yes, the music. Come 2am and Khuja is having a sweaty, funky, losing-it historic hip-hop revival. It's not packed on the dance-floor area, mostly because people need the extra space to express themselves, so the dancing is overflowing everywhere else.

The scratching is awesome, the bongoes infectious and the tunes seminal. The Sugarhill Gang's Rapper's Delight defines the evening:

“I said a hip, hop, the hippie, the hippie, to the hip hip hop and you don't stop...”

And we don't, for some considerable time.