I often ask myself this question as I exit a club, time and time again. It's not that I don't enjoy dancing and prancing around like Bambi running away from a hunter; I just hate the monotonous and boring music that plays all night long in these establishments. Don't get me wrong here, my musical tastes are varied. However, is it just me, or does all house/electronic music tend to sound the same? The same repetitive bass beat in the background followed by a drop then a buildup over and over and over again.
This is why I don't listen to popular music very often; I find it uninteresting, and trivial. However, this has somewhat alienated me from some of my peers. In fact, I often find myself getting into discussion with others about going to some club only to have no idea what I am talking about.
This is a hypothetical example of a typical conversation with one of my peers:
Dave: Hey man! You going to New City Gas this weekend?
Me: What's that? Some sort of fueling station?
Dave: No dude! It's this awesome club where sweaty people go and dance on top of each other! Pretty cool eh?
Me: No, not really.
Dave: Come on... Skrillex is playing this weekend! He's so boom! You need to come bro!
Me: I don't know man. In fact, I don't even know what a Skrillex is.
Dave: Dude, come on. WE HAVE TO GO. It's going to be a crazy time! I promise if you don't like it, I'll never make you go back again.
After thinking about Dave's offer I reluctantly agree to go to this New City Gas with him.
Me: Alright man, if you say so...
My friends and I arrive at New City Gas, it is a cold and dark winter night. To avoid the coat-check I wear only a t-shirt in -11 degree weather. Not only is it extremely cold, but I am in desperate need of a bathroom as my bladder is about to burst. After freezing my bum off in a line for over 30 minutes, my friends and I are admitted to the venue. After passing the first checkpoint, we are put into another line. At this point I cannot take it any longer and proceed to relief myself on the stone facade of New City Gas. (Do not judge me... I really had to go.)
Finally, I make to the end of the second line. I am told to put my belongings into a small, grey plastic bin, like at the airport, and asked to walk forward. Without warning, a large, brutish bouncer begins to vigorously frisk me as if I am hiding weapons of mass destruction somewhere in my jeans. Eventually, I recover my belongings and am permitted entry to this extremely secure place.
I make my way down the large steel staircase in front of me. At the bottom of the stairs I see another line. "Oh no," I say to myself. "Another fucking line! You've got to be kidding me!" Luckily, this was the line for the coat-check, and I was prepared to avoid it.
After going up another flight of stairs I make it to the concert hall. The dank smell of sweat, booze and other bodily fluids fills the air of New City Gas. Thousands of sweaty adolescents fill the room and bounce to the beat of the subwoofer as it pierces my ears with its repetitive beat. Several colored lights flash and blind me as I attempt to navigate this hellhole.
Stealthily making our way through crowds of moist individuals, my friends and I make it close to the front of the stage. Ahead of us, on an elevated podium is a DJ mashing away on his MacBook Pro. After two hours or so I have had enough. The mix of the smell, the people and the horrendous music makes me feel ill. I have to get out of here.
Sur enough, after begging and pleading with my friends and somehow talking over the loud noise of the music, we agree to leave. I look for an exit sign then immediately follow it like a wolf hunting its prey. Finally, I find a door and with every ounce of strength in my body I push it open. I exit triumphantly, like a bat out of hell; free from the torment of this venue.
I swear to myself that I will never return to this place. However, only time will tell if I keep this promise. and like every night I ask myself the same question I ask myself each time I exit a club: why do people like these places?
Dave: Dude, come on. WE HAVE TO GO. It's going to be a crazy time! I promise if you don't like it, I'll never make you go back again.
After thinking about Dave's offer I reluctantly agree to go to this New City Gas with him.
Me: Alright man, if you say so...
My friends and I arrive at New City Gas, it is a cold and dark winter night. To avoid the coat-check I wear only a t-shirt in -11 degree weather. Not only is it extremely cold, but I am in desperate need of a bathroom as my bladder is about to burst. After freezing my bum off in a line for over 30 minutes, my friends and I are admitted to the venue. After passing the first checkpoint, we are put into another line. At this point I cannot take it any longer and proceed to relief myself on the stone facade of New City Gas. (Do not judge me... I really had to go.)
Finally, I make to the end of the second line. I am told to put my belongings into a small, grey plastic bin, like at the airport, and asked to walk forward. Without warning, a large, brutish bouncer begins to vigorously frisk me as if I am hiding weapons of mass destruction somewhere in my jeans. Eventually, I recover my belongings and am permitted entry to this extremely secure place.
I make my way down the large steel staircase in front of me. At the bottom of the stairs I see another line. "Oh no," I say to myself. "Another fucking line! You've got to be kidding me!" Luckily, this was the line for the coat-check, and I was prepared to avoid it.
After going up another flight of stairs I make it to the concert hall. The dank smell of sweat, booze and other bodily fluids fills the air of New City Gas. Thousands of sweaty adolescents fill the room and bounce to the beat of the subwoofer as it pierces my ears with its repetitive beat. Several colored lights flash and blind me as I attempt to navigate this hellhole.Stealthily making our way through crowds of moist individuals, my friends and I make it close to the front of the stage. Ahead of us, on an elevated podium is a DJ mashing away on his MacBook Pro. After two hours or so I have had enough. The mix of the smell, the people and the horrendous music makes me feel ill. I have to get out of here.
Sur enough, after begging and pleading with my friends and somehow talking over the loud noise of the music, we agree to leave. I look for an exit sign then immediately follow it like a wolf hunting its prey. Finally, I find a door and with every ounce of strength in my body I push it open. I exit triumphantly, like a bat out of hell; free from the torment of this venue.
I swear to myself that I will never return to this place. However, only time will tell if I keep this promise. and like every night I ask myself the same question I ask myself each time I exit a club: why do people like these places?
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