To enjoy the latest thing in discothèques, you had better wear ear plugs, dark glasses and shin guards. Otherwise, you may be deafened, blinded and bruised in an electronic earthquake that engulfs you completely in an experience called "total recreation." It has developed out of the tamer discothèque clubs, and its common ingredients are blinking lights that look like Broadway signs gone berserk, canned or live music, dancing and far-out movies fashed on small screens. One place has a boutique, where you can buy nutty clothes to wear so you really fit into the picture. In these new clubs everybody looks like a kook in a Kubla-Khanteen.

 

So far, about a half dozen of these nightclubs have been installed around New York and Chicago, and plans for more are being rushed. A touring unit, created by Pop Artist Andy Warhol and equipped with movie projectors and musicians, has been playing Los Angeles before moving on to San Francisco. Unexpectedly, the clubs report that liquor consumption i .less than in conventional spots, mainly because the pandemonium takes the place of stimulants. At New York's chic Arthur, granddaddy of the new clubs, so many customers prefer soft drinks that they are sold at the same price as whisky, and the new Cheetah sells no hard liquor at all. With no threat of a hangover, most customers go home pooped but somehow restored, as if they had undergone successful shock therapy.