"Two drinks?"
I motion to the girl next to me. She's holding a drink in each long, black fingerless glove-wearing hand, sitting in front of the merch stand where Cobrasnake and Dim Mak t-shirts are going head to head.
"Yeah. This one's a double," she smiles, lifting the cup in her left hand. "They sure are pouring them strong tonight."
Onstage, the entire Ed Banger crew is representing posse style like the French hardcore dance version of the Wu-Tang Clan. Coming out to an ominous loop of Jay-Z's "Show Me What U Got," Busy P, Medhi, So-Me and the guys of scene superstars Justice take turns posting up and dropping brutal digital beats mixed with a panoramic array of fun and borderline cheesy dance hits (when is the last time C & C Music Factory's "Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)" rocked your party?).
I look at the girl again.
"Do you like this music?"
She kind of makes a face.
"Yeah, it's OK. I like music with less... bass. I really like the guys that throw this party. You know, Steve Aoki. Is he here tonight?"
Um, yeah. Steve is onstage with a dozen or so other people that are mugging for multiple cameras being pointed at them from every direction, including Naeem from Spank Rock, DJ A-Trak, Jason Stewart and Peaches, who grabs the mic and belts out a song in the middle of the DJ orgy."I want to get onstage and have my picture taken by that guy."
She waves her hand at Mark the Cobrasnake, who's snapping pictures and hyping up the crowd, which in front of the stage is a combination disco dance party, rave and mosh pit. For the first few tracks, kids surf the crowd while members of the Ed Banger entourage take turns leaping into the mass of people. It's hot, tight and very sweaty. Which is why I'm standing off to the side with this girl who's drinking two drinks at once and dreaming of being in a picture right here. Busy P drops Uffie's "Ready to Uff," and brings the house down, with everyone screaming "I'm ready to FUCK!" in unison with the song.
I look at the girl yet again. Her long brown hair is feathered like Farrah in ’76, a grey and white striped shirt wrapped tight around her chest.
"Yeah, you should be up there," I say.
"Really? Why?"
"Who wouldn't want you on their stage?"
She bats her eyes and curtsies.
"Yeah, I know."
I smile and head for the door. I'm barely back from three days in the desert to celebrate the annual bacchanal that happens around Coachella. Tired is an understatement. My new friend was there too. As was most of the Los Angeles population between the ages of 17 and 35. Sleep? Not so much. Drinks and general debauchery? Plenty.
I make it as far as the lobby when I hear one of the DJs cue up Justice's massive remix of Simian's "We Are Your Friends" to a huge roar of approval from the crowd. OK, I guess I can stay for one more song. I push my way back into the beer-soaked fray inside. The stage is now littered with bodies, the DJs obscured behind a sea of headbands and neon sunglasses. Condensation drips from the ceiling. Everyone just looks... damp. But happy. The unofficial anthem of young LA, "We Are Your Friends" turns into a big, drunken sing-a-long. It's Monday, but this crowd is having it like it's New Year's Eve.
Los Angeles is having a moment right now. The look, the sound, the scene - somewhere in this ocean of day-go colors, 1983 fashions and heavy metal techno is the living, breathing embodiment of pop culture gone wild (and according to some, wrong). Far from the jaded chin-stroking rep the city cultivated for years, this latest batch of party people just want to have fun, be seen and get famous, even if it's just for being in a picture with Corey Kennedy at an Ed Banger DJ gig on a Monday night.
I finally concede and make my way out into the crisp spring night. If I'm going to make it to the Check Yo Ponytail party tomorrow night with Spank Rock and Muscles, I need at least some sleep.
See you at the bar.
