“My Addiction: City of Angels Review” – Article written for Ravers Digest, originally a Myspace exlusive circa 2008

March 3^rd2008

City of Angels: Underground style jungle party in LA!!!!! 

Jungle jungle jungle!!!!  My heart races, thoughts pound, feet skip, as we near the brick building on the corner of Broadway and 38th in downtown.  My City of Angels.....its so good to be back!  Too long have I been chasing the mainstream scene in the Inland Empire and Hollywood, too long have I neglected my underground roots for big names and bottle service.  Now here we are, back on the streets where my love, my addiction to BASS all started.  I am excited to be back here, and the feeling only grows as I near the front entrance and suddenly hear barred windows shake and rattle with a bassdrop released from within.  My belly tingles, and I can't wait to be inside.  I already know in my head what it will look like.  We will enter thru the frontdoor (hurry up get inside, no standing in the street u will burn the venue!!!), and only guys will be searched, and even then probably just for weapons.  Then we will walk down a narrow corridor dotted with the occasional straggler, and we will turn a corner and walk right into the first room.  There will be no glowsticks or wings or big platform shoes tonite, it will be dark and red and and evil. 

It will intimidate those who are not true at heart.

And once we get inside, I find the picture painted in my head is not only matched by what meets the eye, but surpassed by it.  There were poppers galore (the majority of which were female!), sick breakers, a few props, and of course beautiful, loud, obnoxious, almost chaotic,  Jungle being spewed forth from many speakers.  Ahhhhhhh.................Just stepping inside jungle's warm embrace and catching my first breath of bass releases any stress or worries I had when I entered.  I soak it up like a lizard soaks up the sun when its trying to regulate its body temperature.  Music regulates my sanity.  As I take a look around this smaller area of sound, something about the DJ's turntable setup catches my eye....no way...was that???? Oh wow, they had the tables set on top of a huge snake tank, which held two giant snakes. 

I am no expert but I think they are boas, and they are beautiful.  One of them is an albino, and they both lay complacent in their cell, observing the dance floor with a royal like calm.  What an interesting touch, I think to myself.  Nice and evil and dark.  I part the black curtains suspended in the doorway between this room and the rest of the party, and step out into the second area.  This one is much larger than the first, much louder, and contains the all important "bar", which is basically just a few tables set together, covered in a disorganized heap of plastic cups and jugs and beer bottles.  I scan the room and decide that this is a nice, airy venue, the walls of which were dotted with signs requesting people to "please not write on the walls".....

Damn junglists, you can't take us anywhere!!!!To my right, a giant disoriented clock hangs against a wall, suddenly giving me an Alice in Wonderland feeling.

 

 Hey did I just fall down the rabbit hole?  Anyone know where that bastard went?  I chase my mischief around a corner and find myself on the dance floor of the main room.  Its pleasantly crowded and there is a female emcee from the UK gracing us with her lovely presence.  And like I anticipated, the floor is relatively devoid of anything that glows or blinks or glitters.  Cammo netting and red lights are suspended from the ceiling, and the sweet smells of smoke drift lazily into the air. 

 All the usual suspects from all the sick crews are here, and we greet each other as we pass by.  We are in our element, and its so good to be here all together.  I smile, and dance, and dance, and dance.  I stop only to drink some water or watch the other poppers and try to learn new moves.  The never ending Exchange of Ideas and Skills, and there are some rare moments going on on this dance floor tonight.  People are actually taking the time to teach each other new moves.  This is very rare as popping is considered a self learned art and most will tell you to go fuck yourself if one asks hey man how did you do that thing?  I do it all the time.  But tonight was the exception, and every single one of us there knew it.  We junglists are a different breed, and special things happen when you stick us all together under one roof.  Friends are made, numbers exchanged, props are given out like candy on Halloween.  Its great and awesome and perfect and beyond all descriptive words and I want it to last forever but of course it doesn't and the time to leave comes all too quickly.  When the party ends we go back to being the redheaded step children of the rave scene, back to the genre that always gets booked inside the smallest room of any venue, back to everyday life.  But when we pass each other on the street or on the dance floor at the next sugar coated, glow stick wielding event, we nod and smile and know that we are different. 

And we wouldn't have it any other way.

Each One Teach One!  

Peace Love and BASS!!!!!