Wednesday, August 03, 2005

nostalgia and bootie music

nostalgia an an artistic aesthetic has been pissing me off for years, prompting friendster manifestos begging any of my far-flung compatriots to make something for me that would make my hair stand up on end. so i went around with an eye out for something new and found plenty to tickle every fancy from nature worship to orgone acculmulators, narrative beauty to bikesexuality.

but maybe nostalgia is not always the enemy after all; there is something about shared experiences, that stupid joy when you and someone you have never met drew enough solace from the same dance tracks that you both know every "uh-huh" and "that's right", 15 years later. for him, dance music was the only gay-safe aspect of an aggressive New Jersey. For me, it was the only connection i had to the rhythm-centered world of my Oakland friends after my family moved to Camarillo, a redneck town of old-fashioned white racists and born-again Christians. I taped half these tracks off the radio and would play them in back yard, pretending i was the choreographer for a struggling community center and if i made up good enough dances, we would be saved from ruin.

it could still happen.

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