Snakes on the wane 

A Doc in the House, Snowden at the Drunken Unicorn

The Internet was abuzz for weeks. I was even offered a personalized invitation. Finally, Fri., Aug. 18, was upon us. But the Monday after, it became apparent that hype doesn't always translate into heat.

I'm talking about slithering sounds, about writhing bodies. I'm talking about an event with word of mouf but not nearly as many fleet of phoot. I'm talking about two things: snakes and planes. But I could just as easily be talking about Doc Martin and Derrick Carter at the House in Underground Atlanta.

Both events had highlights and plot holes. Apparently, "snake vision" is like getting dusted, so clubbers can identify. And both events showed talk is cheap and events expensive. Despite Samuel L. Jackson's personal pleas, Snakes on a Plane made only $15 million of its $33-million budget. And MJ's House event came up short in attendance by a good 100 or more. Despite past technical glitches, it didn't suffer for vibe -- attracting discerning DJs, including Kevin O, Jonathan Edwards, Keiran and Kai Alce.

Around midnight, bass was folding in on itself, creating the feeling of an Impala's rattling trunk at times and causing turntable skips. But Doc rode it through with aplomb -- steady, deep and swingin'. Unfortunately, I had to exit around 2 a.m., but here's what I've since understood: Issues resolved, Derrick Carter banged it out in proper, tech-house style. But the turnout capped. So who's lamer -- the locale or the locals? I don't dig Underground, nor do I think "keeping it underground" means keeping it only behind certain doors. Come on, peeps -- invite a crush for a four-on-the-floor spank; maybe it'll help get 'em on all fours. Atlanta's house nation did itself a disservice.

On Sat., Aug. 19, I caught Snowden at the Drunken Unicorn, where the local band celebrated its full-length debut, Anti-Anti. Walking up a couple of songs in, I found a capacity crowd and was stalled in the entrance hall. Where was a scene Moses when I needed one? Watching Snowden, I thought how unfortunate it is that "Anxiety Always" is already a taken title. Bathed in red from below, the band projects anguish and unease, but firmly gripped by friction and tenacious will. Even Jeff Clark was seen captivated, bobbing his head like a cobra (snake references, SO hot right now).

Finally, on Sun., Aug. 20, I wound up down on Castleberry Hill's Walker Street, where the recent openings of Wasabi and the artisan, opulent hacienda No Más! Cantina mark a wave of upcoming nightlife and dining developments. In the near future we'll drink it all in, from sake "sangria" to tequila sunrises.

RedEye celebrates going out and going off. Send comments to redeye@creativeloafing.com, but hand-scrawled hate mail is preferred.

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