Winter Music Conference is a trying moment for the city of Miami because seventy five percent of the tourists in town are tripping balls and totally need some water or something bro. I set out over the last several days to actively avoid this crap. Here are my thoughts and ruminations:
These people are weird and drastically void of self awareness.
Each set list on the ubiquitous club poster has so many names that it’s confusing to wade through. I am not on the cutting edge of nightclub electronica, but I don’t know ANY of these people.
Everyone walking around town seems British.
I write a music column on the internet and don’t give a smegma.
The thing about Winter Music Conference is that it’s all about club drugs. Learned about “mali” this week. Apparently it’s a really intense form of ecstasy and dangerous for people who are prone to lockjaw. Like jaundice. Anyway Mali is no longer JUST a country in western Africa.
Ohh there ARE a lot of British people here.
Boom chicka boom chicka doo doo doo DOO DOO DOO DOODOODOODOODOODOODOODOODOO PEEEEEEEWSCHHHHHHH!!!!
Fake DJ names: DJ Vaguely Japanese. DJ Wet Matches. DJ Flog. DJ Purple Drank. DJ Bond James Bond. DJ Shitty Toast. DJ Hotter Girlfriend than I Deserve. DJ Still Smell Like Last Night.
Went to the huge record dig. Not so huge. Five booths with really sweaty fat dudes. Bought: African drum record (Olatunji!). Symphonic Accordion Orchestra record. Had a long think about how no one buys vinyl anymore. The market has changed drastically in such a small amount of time. 5$ for everything.
People making weird music in the other room of the record sale. Shrill Stockhausen racket. Geeks.
Andrew and I walked by a dead bird. He said “you see that pigeon. Winter Music Conference murdered that pigeon.”
Really. I don’t know ANY of these DJs.
I decided this conference all I really wanted was to go see Fatman Scoop. He was nowhere to be found. Really a shame.
Had birthday party at Purdy Lounge, my local bar. Two WMC DJs were there, I didn’t notice.
Found out WMC DJs last night never showed. Fuckers made me think I was clueless.
Friends going to Sunday night at the strip club cause of “the sick lineup”. Shut up.
Thank god this is over.
Tune in next week for chicken flava’s universe and how it somehow relates rainbows and kicking ass. In the meantime become fan of Chicken Flava on Facebook or you could even follow him around the Twitter.