After much clubbing mayhem, I recommend condoms by the bedside and glowsticks in the freezer. Because you never know.
Imagine you're at a party and meet some sexy, sparkly peeps. They're wearing cargo pants. You're wearing cargo pants. They're easily distracted by anything shiny and you can barely concentrate on them. But then your large pupils lock and instantly it's like the world is a 45 being played on 33. Suddenly, you're all at your place, rubbing each other's backs, and you realize you're about to share more than just an appreciation for funky breaks.
So you visit the kitchen for sensual aids, except ice, whipped cream and honey are not only passé but also messy. So it's time to crack out chilled glowsticks, which are perfect for teasing nipples. Let the glowsticks and your dates warm up and then they're perfect for when you want to ease something in and out. It's Skinemax for the serotonin retarded, just missing music. Portishead? No, too dour. Seal? Not writhing enough. The Crystal Method? No saxophone. What's in between? Ah, Aerial 2012.
I saw Aerial at the Tabernacle on Sat., Aug. 20, following J-Luv and opening for BT, and when I wasn't snickering at the laser programmer's inability to spell ("will al women screem"), I was imagining the above scenario -- give or take slow-motion hotel shower scenes. Not having caught the Atlanta-born quartet live in a long time, I hadn't quite remembered the group's patchwork of tribalism and futurism -- plus saxophone, the softcore porn staple. Merging humanist manifesto fragments with saxual healing over gnawing breakbeats, Aerial is the accompaniment to foreplay with that crush you met in a philosophy survey.
Elsewhere in the building, a drum 'n' bass room rolled and rinsed, and the space labeled "jacking house" did not offer handjobs as insinuated. But the several hundred attendees -- seemingly either suburbanite neophytes or clubbing anachronisms -- seemed to be 'avin it large as BT's laptop unleashed squelchy builds as heavily coiffed as their producer. From the way BT's "performance" had girlies wiggling their asses on stage, I hope he's got some glowsticks in the hotel's freezer.
As for the success of a multimode massive, the jury is well hung. December's purported Rabbit in the Moon show will tell whether an Atlanta RAVE is more than Random Assclowns' Vexing Exaggerations, or Ridiculous Attention for Vapid Electronica.
In other FYI news, East Side Lounge is throwing a "Return to Fountainhead" benefit for Frank Lopez (whose house burned down) on Sat., Aug. 27, so support the old school. That same night, Halo celebrates four years, and Sidebar celebrates three.
On a sad note, RIP Russ Locklear, aka DJ MistyKiss, the clubbing "freaks" will miss you.
RedEye celebrates going out and going off. Send comments to email@example.com, but hand-scrawled hate mail is preferred.
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