Get 2 Know A DJ - Steve Aoki
For this installment of G2KDJ, let me paint you a picture: You open your eyes (they were closed because someone just cracked you in the eye-socket with their elbow). You wipe your sweat-soaked face off and lick your lips - champagne? Oh right. Quick flash to seconds before: open mouth, screaming, cork erupts, champagne explodes into your face and the faces of dozens of other blood-thirsty fans pressed as tightly together as physics permits. Flash-forward. Your eyes regain focus. You look up at the DJ booth. Long black hair disappears behind the decks. The crowd surges right. The retaliatory surge to the left follows suit. Couples are sucking face. Red-faced bros are tossing elbows and flexing their pecs. Meeker girls (and guys) trip over their feet in horror trying to escape the pulsating throng. Bass reverberates strongly in the canals of your inner ear while strobe lights and lasers scorch your retinas. Then something appears from behind the booth. Really? Yes, a blow-up pool raft. It is tossed into the front of the crowd. The mob riots in anticipation. The music becomes clear. Electro metal and punk. You love this song. Here it comes. The music mounts. Everything is chaos. A shirtless Japanese-American man with shoulder-length, jet-black hair and beard stands on the platform built especially for tonight. He towers over the crowd, mic in hand. Everyone knows this part of the song. He cuts the music completely. Your heart rate peaks. ”WAAAAAAAA!… WAAAAAA!!!!…..WAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! 1, 2, 3, MOTHER FUCKERRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” He propels his body from the booth into the raft. Anarchy! Riot! Rock reborn. You are nothing. Only a piece of this writhing coterie of raw youth. Where are you…?
A Steve Aoki concert.