they wanted to eat this party's brains

The general agreement now seems to be that 'hipster' doesn't really mean anything, at least among those that are paranoid that they might be hipsters themselves. To some it still means overdressed. To some it means 'graphic designer.' To some it means 'works at a weekly newspaper.' To some it means anyone that's ever denied being a hipster.

Well, I saw very clearly what 'it' is on Saturday night. And, rest assured, most of you are safe.

I went to Philly for the first time for a party. It was at Diplo's mausoleum which is a better-than-average warehouse space and an actual ex-mausoleum. I have no idea where in Philly we were at. I'd mentioned on Wednesday that I might try and go up because Glass Candy was doing another show up there and, hey, it might be cool to see them play a all-night blue pill and sweat mess and I was hoping Mike Simonetti would do a set (nope). Then I said I'd never been to Philly--like, I've never even driven through--and a friend went ballistic and insisted. So, despite epic haggardness (but still nothing compared to right now, which is just some srsly next level hangover shit as in I never want to see a Natty Boh again until, like, Wednesday night at the very earliest only because I have to review Shadow and if I don't get ten hours tonight I'm a guaranteed to be a danger to myself and others tomorrow)...where the fuck was I? Oh, right: I went to Philly.

Events leading up to the point of this post in capsule: van breaks down, mega thugged on at a bar by the the mausoleum, someone who will go unnamed goes way way too heavy on alcohol and winds doing this dance that looks like he's trying to hold onto the wing of a jet plane or like he's a suffocating fish, I almost piss myself because dude got ONE motherfucking porta potty for 600 some odd people, lady I was dancing with's friend straight falls over like a felled tree, and did I mention the van broke down?

The point of this post: It gets to a time where the space is packed, as in dancing is just not possible. People are trying to leave and I'm one of them because I have to piss again and I'd rather handle it in the bushes. But, they're not letting people out because there's concerns about the police and people lurking outside making scenes. This I assume anyhow. So, the door, which is this big metal sliding garage door thing is shut. There's kind of a panic vibe by the door. And the brave and noble staff (I mean that. Crazy props to Cullen, Simon, and the Mad Decent peoples not including Mr. Diplo himself who seemed to be getting a kick out of the situation in a rather prickish way but I could be wrong about that so friends of and the gentleman himself shouldn't take that too heavy was pretty concerned and wound up helping with the door after I left the little door foyer/loading bay) don't really know what to do because there's all these people outside trying to get in bad way and there's no room at the inn at all for these kids. So, they get this idea: line up everyone that wants to get out, yell "bum rush" and hope the kids going out block the kids trying to get in because obviously the kids going out have the motivation of having to pee really bad. And shut the door again. Fast.

That situation made the kids outside NUTS. Rabid. Wild eyed and twitchy and oh my god I need in there sooo bad just because they won't let me in. I mean, to them, whatever was inside -- Nada was DJing at that point and, from where I was listening, it was actually starting to get old (really: moratorium on dropping MIA for two months. really: Serato seems to make DJs lazy*, IMHO) -- was the most important thing EVER. It was food. It was sex. It was the megaultimate-party-event-of-all-time that would be talked about for years-and-worth-dying-for. All wrapped up into one. Man, these kids were fucking zombies. They wanted to eat the party's brains. You should've seen them try to get under that door, shoving their wristbanded arms under, trying to dive under, total fever and panic in their eyes. And these, sirs and madams, are hipsters. I looked down at those reaching arms and all I could think was that this is the definition of hipster right there. Every time that door shut, the party just became cooler for them.

Poor fuckers, right? I dunno. What can I say? Why did I get in that van? I didn't want to go, really. I wanted to watch internet teevee and play with records. But, as I typed 'yeah...i'm still down' into my phone there must've been that echo from Wednesday: you've never partied in Philly?

On the other hand, I did catch the first ride I could back to Baltimore.

Sorry, I should've warned this was going to be a long one.

*I'm not really calling Dave Nada lazy there, though I did feel like I was hearing some obvious/same old, same old in the mix. BUT, aside from the obvious bit about Serato--that it's way easier to mix with--my comment about laziness more pertains to mp3 DJing from an ease-of-access perspective, e.g. when you have instant, cheap access to a shitload of new/hot jams, you might start to focus more on dropping shit first or always looking for the next best track and less on a solid mix. As in, man, I'll fit it in somehow. I can see how you'd wind up not caring so much about all of the fucking fantastic and creative ways tracks can come together and just on the individual tracks. When I did my first "real" DJ set, I was pretty worried about my total lack of mix skills and a friend tossed "all that matters is what's in the crate" at me. Well, no, unless you're playing jukebox at a wedding or some shit.