before attacking the other night I was very upset because we were playing before a group. When playing in local groups, usually there are people just like to dance music's shit, and I often feel very out of place and inappropriate. Then instead of my concerns proved unfounded as usual and I knew how to read the evening with his usual clarity and professionalism.
When it came our moment has come forward saying BatFabio "start I see that it pulls air. " Of course, pulling the air in the room turned into a dance floor has never presented any all night. One girl even put my head in but ran away in horror, unable to bear the chilling image of the strobe light that swirled in the air. Then came my turn, and without wanting to commit the sin of immodesty, I must say that I did record the highest peak rating of the evening when he arrived in console BatFabio saying with great enthusiasm that had seemed to see one at the bar that moved her head in time . Needless to say, like a month ago I changed jobs and this evening I managed to convince a large handful of my colleagues to cross the city on foot to come and listen, hoping in this way to play the card of musical credibility to climb some positions in the hierarchies inside the office. Must have been very happy because in the middle of the first piece had all already evaporated, leaving behind on the tables of pints of beer just started, leaving me with the problem of having to find the courage to reappear in the office to pick them glances of reproach that I deserved . Unfortunately, when the people I know I sweat, and when I'm always acted Born Under Punches Talking Heads. When I do not know what disk to put on and I start to dig into the case nervously looking for a record that pushes the crowd cheering my name, I always check happens in the brain a little voice that says "Born Under Punches to add that this is a piece that always breaks! Everyone goes crazy for Born Under Punches. " And I say that God is true, Born Under Punches mast step. And I put it. And people go away in disgust. Every time. Only god that dog never learns. Because it is true that throughout the history of music there will be ten most beautiful pieces of Born Under Punches, but it is also true that when you party stands in front of a wall of dissonance and roar into which many people on Friday nights are not very prone to crashing. In a perfect world, dozens of people should begin to squirm in an effort untenable to follow simultaneously the tribalism of the drums and hard guitar deviance. In a world of shit but your friends will turn their backs and run counter to the spirits in order to darken the hearing. I tried to catch him but everything went inexorably lost and then I left with no other solution was to not take any short cut to an exit decent. The first thought was to shake his head all the time complaining about some technical problem that did not allow me to work as befitted a DJ of my caliber. I just had to give up after measuring the size and the wickedness of the local sound engineer, opting instead for the more reprehensible because of the hysterical scene, giving all the blame on a girl who, despite not reach the parameters of good looks necessary to make me a request, had approached and asked if I was putting my Cansei De Ser Sexy. In fact, I admit that I have a problem with the requests and had some inkling that has been evident to me and DJ enzo Tavagnasco when we closed the evening raging on the remains of a boy in ethyl precoma a couple of hours before we had asked to Thriving Ramblers. A 'I'm around all evening but was expected to put a piece of Jahtari that was the week that I could not wait to put it. This piece is called Alternative Power, a guy named Afrikan Simba. As usual, I figured il pezzo avrebbe scatenato un olocausto ritmico, con la gente che dimenava la testa in balia dei synth in levare, il pavimento che si spalancava sotto il peso del basso, i baristi che smettevano di spillare le birre per alzare le braccia al cielo. E invece arriva questa faccia di merda e mi chiede se non posso mettere qualcosa di più “commerciale” (credo abbia fatto anche il gesto delle virgolette con le dita, per il quale spero venga presto introdotto l’ergastolo) perchè lei e i suoi amici hanno voglia di ballare. Tipo i Cansei de Ser Sexy, mi fa. E allora io ho colto la palla al balzo e ho buttato via le cuffie chiedendo il cambio a Batfabio, dicendo che così non si poteva più andare avanti, perchè dio cane sono stufo di venire umiliato da questa gente che è capace soltanto di ballare della dance edulcorata e borghese, talmente priva d’anima e di coglioni che non la passerebbero neanche nell’area chill out della festa del partito democratico. Fermo restando che se pochi minuti prima non hai ballato Never Give In di The Streets vuol dire semplicemente che tu e la danza non avete niente da dirvi. Certo, puoi dimenarti saltuariamente sulla scia dell’entusiasmo del tuo quarto mojito, puoi saltellare schiamazzando con le tue amiche ogni volta che senti l’attacco di Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart. Ma del rapporto che intercorre tra un impulso sonoro e un movimento del corpo te e i tuoi amici non capirete mai un cazzo. Io e Batfbio e Dj Danilo (a sinistra nella foto di copertina) ci siamo poi allontanati con una scusa per sfuggire alla desolazione, fingendoci dei normalissimi avventori e lasciando Dj Enzo da solo a mettere dischi in una stanza vuota per una quantità irragionevole di tempo. Quando siamo tornati era incazzato come una biscia e ha preteso come risarcimento una decina di consumazioni omaggio, nonostante le quali alla fine della serata è riuscito comunque a spendere ingenti somme di denaro al bancone (certe volte penso che se l’oceano Atlantico fosse fatto di whisky & cola, dopo che gli immergi dentro Dj Enzo potresti camminare da Londra a New York senza neanche bagnarti il risvolto dei pantaloni). Comunque a Dj Danilo l’altra sera l’ho visto veramente vittima dello sconforto. Lamentava the extinction of the reasons that led him to be 60 kilometers each time to put the disks never collect a shred of satisfaction, among other things when he had to get up early the next morning to go to harvest the kiwi. But I must say that I am so happy and I'm starting to eat greedily of the contempt that people show towards us, probably because they are the victim of a strange perversion because of what I feel pleasure in exhibiting publicly my sociopathy. And if in the popular imagination the figure of the DJ is treated to the joy of sharing and unifying power of music, but is born with us, this figure is not less important the DJ that shows your Friday night with the express purpose of annoying you, not to satisfy your desires and of preventing access to those glimmers of joy and happiness that you would like to mitigate the dullness of your life.
[streaming/mp3] Afrikan Simba - alternative power
