WMC

I know that I said that the next post was going to be about economics, and that one's still in the works, but I'm sure you'd rather hear about some fun things instead. Last year, I entirely ignored the Winter Music Conference. Three good reasons. Firstly, the music at the huge majority of the events is boring house and its cousins. Secondly, this being Miami, and this conference drawing a crowd of people either a) on expenses or b) too rich to afford common sense, the huge majority of events take place at the kind of venue that charge you $30 to get in, $100 if you want to get in fast and not queue, and $10 for anything liquid.

Now, both these obstacles to having WMC fun are surmountable. With some careful scanning of the official event list (check how long it is!), and some blog trawling for off-list events, you can string together a whole week's worth of free fun. The third obstacle was the killer last year: nobody to go with. My friends here are a lovely bunch, but unfortunately, absolutely uninterested in any (modern) music that doesn't involve guitars. And going clubbing on your own is not just lonely, but very awkward in a city where the events take place miles apart, and the public transport system mostly turns into pumpkins past midnight.

This year, though, things were looking up. I'd recruited a dancing-buddy, best described as rave-curious rather than fully out of the clubbing closet, and made some judicious selections from the various events. Quality, not quantity. I could have been out every night of the week, but Spring Break was the week before (shame), and the demands of school preclude seven nights of parties. This was also slated as my last weekend of two-day guilt-free enjoyment before the end of the semester as the deadlines pile up. What a way to do it.

First up, Thursday night, a Bersa Discos/Tormenta Tropicale showcase. It was in the bar of a super-posh SoBe hotel spa, and it was really, really badly attended. There were perhaps four people there specifically for the thing, and a few others drifting through. Plenty of reasons for why, but gutting for the guys putting it on all the same. Still, great tunes, nice warm-up for the weekend. I had a good chat with one of the Bersa boys (Disco Shawn), and in the end, we (I say we, I made the offer but I was just another passenger) gave him and his GF a ride back to their hotel. Saved them a load of cab fare, secured a guest list at TT if I ever make it to SF/LA at the right time. Seriously nice, straightforward guy, and they were doing a proper WMC-style party the next night, so hopefully they got the crowd and the pay they deserved. (By the way, if you don't know much about the cumbia stuff that Bersa do, this mix is as good a place to start as any).

Saturday night: the big one. Three top-notch labels/crews — Mad Decent, Turntablelab, Iheartcomix/Trouble and Bass — come together to put on a party in a downtown gallery. The event's off the main list, strictly for the cognoscenti, and the flyer (see below) promises free entry and drinks all night. The RSVP thing turned out to be a kinda joke: I'm guessing it was a legal dodge. "But officer, this is a private party, all these guests have RSVPed, and we're not selling any booze, so kindly go and arrest some criminals or something". The venue was a gallery, all right, but a gallery with a massive warehouse-like space attached, and a large outdoor patch of concrete as a chill-out area. The free drinks were for real, and there was a constant long queue for them, meaning the grinning guy across the road in the convenience store made a killing by staying open all night and selling beer and water to the impatient.

And yeah, it was a proper good party. Wild, bouncing, unpretentious crowd, killer tunes, sweat dripping off the walls (party in Spring in Miami in non-AC'd building = outrageous perspiration). Slightly dodgy soundsystem, occasional power outages, all a bit reminiscent of good old Matilda. We got there a bit before 12 and I don't know who was on, but it didn't sound too promising; the first thing I heard them drop was, err, Faithless' 'Insomnia' — straight up, no remix. Gulp. But anyway, whoever got off, and then Trouble and Bass came on. Oh me. If you don't know their stuff, check out some of the mixes on their blog. Big bassy tunes and drops and constant ear-banging breaks. Naturally, like every other hetero-bass-boy, I now have a medium-size crush on Star Eyes.

After that: Sega: OK, but not really feeling the whole metal mashup thing. I sort of see it, but you know, don't. Next up: Rusko: dubstep. Great for a bit, went on too long. It's 3am and I want to jump, not skank. But good all the same. Boy looks like a pikey.

Then the main event: Diplo. Oh, the man knows how to rock a party. Tunes and mashups and Baltimore and bass and baile, new stuff, old stuff, that horn riff recurring... and guess who he brought along as his MC and hype man? Lil' John. Yeah, I guess, why not? They're apparently working on tunes in the studio, so it makes sense. And whatever you think of the man's own records, he complemented the sound perfectly, hitting you with all those lines that only make sense in a club with a crowd who want them to make sense.

We left towards the end of Diplo's set -- it was 4:30am, getting to be more about endurance than enjoyment, and a half-hour walk across town was between us and transport to our beds. And apparently the guy on after him got his set cut short because things were shut down early by some of those law enforcement officials who think their job description includes the strict regulation of fun. So a well-timed exit. But all in all, ahhhh, so much fun. The kind of party where, if you happen to see someone you saw there somewhere else a while later — the supermarket, the street — and they clock you too, you exchange a sly smile and go on your way, because nothing more need be said.