impossible to not move at a SBTRKT show. Trust me, I tried. Just last night,
in fact, as I showed up to a sardine'd-the-fuck-out Paradise, more
prepared to slink around the back of the venue than I was for the eventual
adrenaline bump I would receive. I hadn't slept well Tuesday night, worked a full day
yesterday, and wanted to lean right up against one of those obtuse
poles, close my eyes, and take a quick five.
This isn't real life.While
this rather tired adage can be used to describe many a pleasantry, it
can probably be best applied to music festivals: two to four days of eschewing
responsibility; hordes of bands you give a shit about; Class A to Z drugs
at every turn; probably the only situation other than holing up in your
bedroom for a weekend in which hygiene doesn't much matter.
this would be deserving of a "SSIA" but my God, look at this video.
Yes, that video above which makes it seem like I'm about to embark on
the most extreme weekend of my life. The one that's only about
27-minutes and three screaming Juggalos shy of doubling as one of those Gathering infomercials that we here in the Phoenix office will never, ever