Kid Koala, this morning at 1:30am at The Social. “Pretty depressing song, huh? Doesn’t it make you want to jump in front of a train?”
For his final song in the set he had just played an unreleased Deltron 3030 track from Deltron Event II, the album that’s been in production for more than six years. In 2004 I read that they started working on a new album. Until last night it was just a myth.
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To stand there alone… Remembering. Reliving. Planning. Collecting. Bookending. It’s a powerful sensory snowball that grows every time I roll into that venue and now it’s cumbersome past the point of utility. It’s now a childlike challenge to make it the world’s biggest. The biggest ever.
I’m afraid The Social has become a magical place. A staple in my life; a ritual room I’ve returned to for a third of it.
I’m afraid it’s become a federal prison for a certain part of my psyche that I visit conjugally. I get there and rip off the orange jumpsuit on my former self and make love to the past and the future while the guards watch and lick their jowls. Time doesn’t stand still. No, none of those time cliches apply because the present feels paragon, causing an ecstasy akin, or close, to maximum pleasure.
Sometimes the warden lets me in for free, perhaps out of pity. Sometimes I bribe him by putting cash into his greasy palm. Then comes the 50/50 chance of full body sweep of a metal detector wand. But any way I enter, I exit feeling repugnant like dirtbiking to a White House ball and hoping nobody sees me before I shower.
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My first instinct when Kid Koala announced the song he’d be playing was to reach for my phone to record the audio for friends. Then he stated that his collaborators, Dan the Automator and Del, would be angry to hear he leaked the song. My next thought was to record it in good faith, only for my own future fair use.
I decided against doing even that.
I’m afraid I’m growing up.
