Last night, something kinda funny happened.
It was on the dance floor. On a space of slippery linoleum where some small amount of square footage hosted more bodies than it could reasonably fit. Against a rouge wall, in a group of friends put together by the likes of a college Filipino American student organization, brought closer together with Coronas, laughter and most importantly, music.
It’s a simply genius concept – music fills voids of sound and internal and external space. When used correctly and when chance allows, music works, saves, and if you’ve combined the right amount of happy hour extracurricular activities, then music can also make you smile at inane things.
You know how DJs like to spin regional records? They do ten to fifteen minute sets featuring music about and by folks from New York or the Bay Area or Los Angeles. And when they do, everyone in the club dances a little faster and moves a little more incoherently but things seem more natural somehow. Some people are happier when they hear a song by a rapper or singer from their hometown – it always feels good when someone shouts out something you know, especially if that something reminds you of your hometown! Or your hood, or your friends, or your favorite memory. It all gets to be something kinda funny, right?
Well, last night, I realized that as much as I appreciate and miss the explosion of the hyphy movement (in terms of its early 2000s exposure to the mainstream music industry), I actually think that L.A-born music and L.A.-based artists make me feel at home. For a moment, on that dance floor, in a city that reminds me of home, with people who helped make that home during our years in San Diego, I loved the sounds of Snoop Dogg, Warren G and Dr. Dre a little more. Music offers an entry point that constantly introduces me to L.A. things, and since I’ll be a part of that scene in less than a month, I got some more loving to do. After all, I knew there was a reason I memorized all of the lyrics to “This Is How We Do It”and “Summertime in the LBC” at age 11. Some of my proudest clubbing moments are spittin these tracks at the drop of a needle. Get ready for me, L.A., it’s time. I’m ready for you.
