Life's tough for some kids on the cheap side. So spending a whole week in a city that for about three weeks draws in and debauches the young of their already tawdry wallet loads was challenging you see. But that's what you get for spontaneity. We had to weave in and out of disappointments over a lot of shows (damn you, Mansion and your overpriced ticket to
le doucherie!) and festivals (hopped onto the Ultra train too late and spent two hours trying to find legitimate tickets for less than $350 each and sucking on delicious fizzy energy candy given to us by raver girls in sexy nurse costumes).
The drum&bass/house show at the White Room seemed the best bet for true carnivalism and orgiastic music frenzy. And sure enough, that's where all the svelt Brooklynites were hiding their porcelain skins from the harsh Miami sun that would mar that perfect nocturnal white glow against their various black couture...the kind of place where if someone farts you're 100% gonna smell cocaine. (What happens when a healthy trifecta of dusty cities arrive at a rave?)
I'm not an expert on this music, dub step, dnb, house, electronica, whattheeffever kids are calling good old fashioned escapist dance music at high volumes. And as melodically-prone as I am, the percussion of someone slapping a ripe ass, or someone scratching on a chalkboard, or the fire alarm in your apartment building that goes off randomly at seven in the morning, can grate at the nerves. (And I think I'll be driven to homicide if I hear Major Lazer ever. again. How many times can we rework the call-and-response sound of a goofy synth? Nah, nah, just kidding, I have mad love to any group that video tapes themselves jumping from ladders and buildings into the cavernous cootchies of bootylicious women.) I was also a little wary of tweakdaddies and mommies dragging me off to their heavily-spandexed layers and taking me for all I was worth. But I was soon drawn into the escapist dream of total endorphin-takeover, and I still love music that is silly (
Zappadidoodah!) as well as badass.
Plus, these DJs were the cream of the crop, so there was no such thing as disappointment that night. I was blown away with the flow and the sudden impulse to pump my fist in the air and act the fool. So, touche, Craze, et. al. Meanwhile, Rossman had the urge to flash some top teeth, and Q. had the uncontrollable ambition to jump up on stage and offer supplications to his favorite DJs. Pfft, who was that guy?
A little shoutout to the locals:
Not that I feel the constant need for explication (cough, cough), but I will admit that my music appreciation was broadened since I recently began subjecting myself to house/electronica. My disdain has been mostly for the fans, those ironicmoronic nerds-turned-cool with something always, always to prove. However, the same can, has, and should be said about my old friends, the Phans, who desire nothing more than an excuse to be lazy, grody, and sloppy in bed because all the pot you smoked and whiskey you drank did not, as you expected, make you more "dangerous" and therefore appealing, but instead make you stink like hot fire-and-brimstone asscrack. The music then, however good, becomes a gateway drug to lameness. This is how seeing live music can become hazardous, and the whole reason I try to get as close to the stage as possible at shows to bridge the gap. The only difference is at hardcore shows.
Plus, the characteristics that make escapist music so innocuous and fun is the no-brainer quality of the lyrics or melodies, our own American brand of comfort and familiarity; Miley Cyrus is the musical Bed Bath & Beyond. We navigate cleanly and confidently around those predictable pillows of Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-C section-Chorus. Mmm. But the best of this music is anything but formulaic. Matching old classic songs to ultramodern tracks, combining the B-sides with the Blockbusters, then stripping everything down and playing with the dancers, everything synched and intuited and timed for live performance is anything but Vonnegut's cosmic ice cream cone. So my cute little military hat off to the dudes who made this show possible, because it was quite possibly one of the funnest dance parties everest.
