As I was driving home from work yesterday the track It’s Like That (Drop the Break) by Run-D.M.C. -vs- Jason Nevins was played on the radio. A chill went down my spine, as so many images of my past flashed through my head. Images of tweekin, and the way it used to be in the good old days, five years ago. Those days are long gone, but I sure do miss them.
I haven’t been out this year since Fuzzy Field Day and I am feeling the pull, have been for a few weeks now. I want to get hedonistic. I want the d-floor.
I know why I left the scene. It was getting old, man. Or maybe it was me. I have seen too much of the negative side of clubbing, long ago I lost the sense of awe and gained a new sense which might be described as an eye for biz. I can track back to that night, at Stateside, where the pieces fell together and I became aware of the other social layer spread above that of the cattle class clubbers. I studied it, I knew it … and I became it…
I had the sense to leave before I was lost, but I had lost the love for the scene. The music I still cherish, but the whole thing has a bad taste, to me. There are a lot of people in the überclass who are not nice people. I don’t want to be around them.
Yet I feel the pull, the urge to go out and dance all night to some killer tracks, emerging to the cruel light of day, but smiling to all the other hardcore clubbers who made it to the last track, knowing that you are all brothers under the one god. And His name is Phil.
I miss being Chupa-Chup, The King of Tweekin. I miss Emma. I know that I will never see either of them again, but they will always hold a special place in my heart.