Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Don't forget your glowstick
Last night I went with a couple of co-workers and their acid-casualty raver friends to a drum n' bass show at the House of Blues in New Orleans. I went in with next to no knowledge of the genre (other than that Goldie is a scary looking motherfucker). I still don't know much more than that, other than there seems to be no need for either drums or basses in drum n' bass and that white people can't dance in the South either.
Fortunately there were $1.50 drink specials and the entertainment value of watching a Noreweigan DJ in full b-boy outfit (like I know what that means) spinning records while the youth of New Orleans attempted to overcome the effects of their pre-party pills and breakdance. Needless to say, a good time.
Fortunately there were $1.50 drink specials and the entertainment value of watching a Noreweigan DJ in full b-boy outfit (like I know what that means) spinning records while the youth of New Orleans attempted to overcome the effects of their pre-party pills and breakdance. Needless to say, a good time.
