Thanks to guest writer/my co-worker Mike for going to the 10/11 Girl Talk show at 9:30 Club in DC and for doing a quick write-up about his experience. Here goes:
Aside from the audience selected exclusively from GW frat boys from the J. Crew catalogue and ironically-dressed hipsters, Girl Talk took on DC in the perfect venue. Once we (the people) took the stage in a mad dash for the honor of being the guy sweating on Girl Talk, it was more of a party than a concert. Realistically, the show was totally unimpressive in a musical sense. I’ve been to parties where the host created a more intricate groove selecting from a well-stocked iTunes playlist than Girl Talk could manage with his seran-wrapped laptop (the computer is wrapped to protect against the aforementioned sweaty dance bros). However, Girl Talk does not bring the famed intricacies of his recorded work to the stage…he brings the ruckus. As a party, the show was unbelievable. By merits of the asymmetrical social dynamic of the audience and the constant bump of recognizable pop jams, every person in attendance wields free license to dance, drink and…well, that’s it! It was a party.
Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of Adrian and I getting pissed off ’cause you all just realized that Mike is an exponentially better writer than us.
Mike (through Zack)