We're pathologically social. We're professional leisurists. We're burrito lovers, bar flies, art whores and music nerds. We dish the good dirt, and we'll risk a parking ticket for a cheap sample sale. Sometimes, we blog drunk.
OK, I'm kind of mad at Aphex Twin
For the record, I've seen Aphex Twin perform twice. Once was at an early '90s rave, where he shared the bill with the likes of Orbital and Vapourspace (10 points to whoever remembers Mark Gage!). Aphex Twin closed the show. Sitting on the floor behind a huge bank of weird, homemade-looking gear, he cleared the room in record time with the most amazing and abrasive barrage of electronic madness. The diehard 30 or so people (myself included) that were feeling it crowded around the stage in awe.
The second time I saw him perform, it was a showcase in New York, where he ran through a wide array of tunes from his catalog, with brightly colored dancing bears wearing the eerie "Aphex face" bouncing across the stage. Both performances were brilliant.
But when I fought everything from crappy traffic to getting lost in the endless maze that is the whole Indio/Palm Springs/Indian Wells area to see him play at Coachella this year, imagine my crushing disappointment to find him in a packed tent, listlessly spinning old house records. Where was the battery of analog gear? Where was "Xtal," "Windowlicker" or the eternal "Come to Daddy"? Sigh. It's ony the first day, and already one of the weekend's top acts was a total bust. Oh Richard, why have you forsaken me? At least there was the Verve...
—Scott T. Sterling
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