Oh sweet, my favorite day! So while walking to the bill-payer today I played the game where I close my eyes and see how far I can get without walking into something or getting scared about the same. Every time I opened my eyes and got hit in the pupils by the Beverly Hills (ed. note: yup, flossy) sun it was like extra, extra bright, and kind of one of those very-aware-of-my-surroundings type moments. I did have headphones on, I was listening to this, but I am going to attribute the exaggerated effect of the sun on my brain not to Mick Jagger’s sultry smooth morning vibes, but rather to lingering haze associated with my past Friday’s activities. Yes, I said “past Friday,” as in the day before, the day before yesterday. So what’d I do that tweaked my receptors so fuzzy? Well, simple answer, I went to a Glitch Mob show, and I did what one would assume you’re supposed to do at a Glitch Mob show, or a facsimile close to how one should conduct oneself at such an event. The show took place at Club Nokia, which I’d never been to, but being familiar with the LA Live complex in general, I knew that there would be plenty of Billies runnin’ around with their clubs. So we knew to handle our professional business in the parking lot before trekking into the venue. I myself had never seen The Glitch Mob and the show really only peeked my interest because RJD2 was the opening act. I had enough sense to know that the Glitch in the Mob stood for Thizz, so I knew that a pre-show business meeting was necessary to be able to survive at this show. My instincts were verified as I approached the venue. It looked like an OC Thizz-Heads’ Anonymous meeting. Chicks in boots with 2 foot high platforms, dudes and chicks in furry animal hats, you know, typical thizz head attire (ed. note: if that means nothing to you, then let me simplify, they looked like idiots). I don’t know what my thoughts are on the folks that put on special concert going outfits. I mean, there were some dudes there that really geared up to thizz. So it’s like, respect to the hustle, way to really enjoy your hobbies and shit, but jesus dude, what do you think your mother would say if she saw you left the house dressed like a futuristic yoga instructor? Yeah, it’s a hard equation to balance, I guess just go with your gut. If you value looking like a moron when you thizz dance more-so than you value your mother’s opinions, then I recommend continuing to strap up with the neon pink headbands and spin on.
At any rate, thizz kids are a trip. I watched a lil’ USC fella (ed. note: could tell where he went to school by the fact that he looked like a prissy-boy bitch) get kicked out of the entrance line about five times for being over thizzed. He just kept walking back up the escalator and trying again, and again. I had to respect that effort as well. Although I didn’t have to respect the fact that he was dressed like he was heading to the beach, in 1982. It was chilly out, it was night time, guy, if you want the bouncers to not tell you that you look too fucked up to get into the show, then don’t dress like the Fresh Prince with Down Syndrome.
He was certainly a highlight of the night. As was the couple seated next to me during the show. The girl was a young, slender blonde, a definite one, dressed in thizz-head-fairy-garb, her eyes said “gone” just as much as the fact that she was doing the jersey turnpike on the crotch of a forty year old dirt-bag whose belly was poppin’ out of his Hawaiin shirt. Nothing says I love it when daddy pops pills in my mouth like rubbin’ a very hot little ass on a very diseased riddled looking gentleman. I assume his supplements must have been stupendous, because she had a big old grin on her face and didn’t seem to mind that he smelled like Milwaukee’s Best mixed with ass-sweat. Anyways, little slices of life like that always fascinate me. I mean, what’do’I’know? They could have both just been high on life and she could have dug-on him because he’s a prolific thinker and their conversations last for hours but feel like minutes… (ed. note: cyke).
My last noted highlight came from another couple seated nearby, not the lesbian one (ed. note: thanks girls), but the one that was fighting with one another. I tried to point this out to my friend D., whom (sidebar) we ran into randomly at the show (ed. note: small world), but the bass was a little too loud, so I’m not sure he overheard the same hilarity that I did. At any rate, you ever heard the saying “if you’re arguing with a dumbass, then it’s two dumbasses arguing” (ed. note: or something close to that)? Well this would be “if two dumbasses on thizz are arguing with one another, then it’s really fucking stupid.” I got a fine taste of eavesdropping on that, and I enjoyed every minute. Girls, if your man isn’t giving you the right kind of attention you desire when you are hopped up on drugs, then most certainly you should flip out and cause a scene in the middle of a really crowded and loud room. Stop right there if you think there is another solution. There is no other solution.
So that all being said, clearly the music was not my main attraction at the Glitch Mob show. In fact, our technical difficulties caused by our pre-show business meeting forced us to miss all but the final song from RJD2. Our buddy told us that he was phenomenal, and navigated his way between five turn-tables like a savant. From what I saw of it (ed. note: half of a song), RJD2’s set was a subdued one, the crowd was for the most part seated, and it seemed like a pretty mellow time. This was not the case when the Glitch Mob took the stage.
If you’ve not seen or heard the Glitch Mob before, I can best describe them as very glitchy, very thizzy.
Their set up looks like the final scene from the movie The Wizard, where Kevin Arnold’s (ed. note: his name is what I say it is) little brother worked that ass out in the just released Mario Brother’s III. I couldn’t see for sure if the Glitch Mob were rocking Power Gloves or not, but I’d like to assume yes.
So anyways, the Twitch Mob are three dudes, and if I had to picture them about however many years ago it was when they weren’t big, here’s what I’d guess: Three little thizz heads in Los Angeles, blasting their music too loud, sitting on their computers too long, not a lot of sunlight, a lot of pills, working hard to get their shit dialed in, perfecting their mixes, building their way up the ladder of thizz hierarchy. Until finally they reached the point where they were no longer blasting their shit in basements and dirty apartments, but rather in front of large crowds, that throb with them every time they drop their hand down from the top of the little space pods that they perform in. Crowds that flash with the lasers that their music controls. Crowds that feel the ridiculously strong bass that blows out of their operation. Crowds that take meaning out of the meaningless words that their music strings together. I remember they mixed the lines “we’re bringing ’88 back” and I was thinking at the time that not only did I have no idea what that assemblage of words strung together meant, but it was also pretty apparent that the majority of the room had no idea what ’88 had looked like in ’88.
Now, thizz music, Glitch Mob, all of that, it’s not my shit, it’s hard for me to handle, gets me dizzy. However, I’ve seen a lot of it, and I’m always in awe of the effect it has on the crowds. Fools lose themselves in it, in the vibrations of that music, and it is a site to be seen. I made it through like 25 min. of Glitch Mob before I’d had enough. My take away from it was that for me it was not so much an aural as it was a visual experience. I enjoyed the scene. I enjoyed the notion that three guys playing around on computers on a stage can control a mass of people who just want to let loose. I enjoyed thinking that one day I’m a stand on top of the Jam Van and see if I can’t get some a y’all to do like I say. Cause it always looks like fun. So I enjoyed the show, even if the music wasn’t really music.
In other news, cross your fingers for the Junction today. The man is coming at her hard, and from my experience with the man, he is really good at cramping our style…
Quote for the Day: “What kind of neighbor throws fireworks at you?” – Anonym-Ass.
Answer for the Day: The best kind.
Track for the Day: The Rolling Stones – “Cock Sucker Blues” play it off of The Rest of the Best, because “I may have no money but I know where…” finish it your damn self.
Links for the Day: