On Saturday morning, in the middle of three-day danceparty Electric Zoo, I took time from nursing my Converse blisters to join my roommate and his parents for brunch. Even though I was gulping down my Bloody Mary because I love Bloody Marys and being drunk, I also found myself explaining to the parents that I was in a hurry to get to E-Zoo and catch the earlier acts. They had limited experience with the idea of a DJ, and seemed incredulous that I would pay real money to go hear someone’s choice of songs. By no means disheartened, I just explained that the sensation was more about freedom and community and seizures triggered by strobe lights and left it at that.
Well, I was able to return to my daily headphone routine this week, as it’s been awhile that I’ve been walking anywhere. The unstoppable smile I was sporting while I re-acquainted myself with bass made it very clear to me that, just like singing along to my favorite rock songs at the various concerts of my life, I will never forget hearing Diplo drop the Torro Torro remix of “Que Que,” and I will not forget the exact burning butterflies in my stomach that kept me dancing to the beat alongside thousands of friends even long after the stages were empty. Maybe there’s a generational gap here, but I truly wish the chasm could be crossed somehow, cause I can’t imagine anything more fun.
(photo courtesy of jteore on Flickr)