Photos By Kevin Kim, Words By Jeremie Lecuyer
You don’t go really to this kind of show for the show itself.
There, I said it.
I mean, let’s be honest. Take one fresh mid-20s cap-wearing guy adorned with two CDJs and a sticker-adorned Macbook Pro. Add one part projection – itself composed of equal parts nostalgic video clips and trippy motion graphics. Marinate in a moody, flashy, blue and purple lightshow and sear until the bass rattles the 9:30 Club’s huge blue underage stamps – I think they were the cupcakes that night – right off the uberhip college sophomore’s hands.
Of course you don’t go for the show. D.C. has a dozen DJs who – in theory – could have delivered the exact same set.
No, you go for the people. You go because you know that 1,200 sweaty, inhibition-less, future bounce loving urbanites – and aspirational urbanites – are also going for the exact same reason. You go because it takes someone like Kaytranada to bring out big-room-sized droves of the kinfolk you didn’t know you had. You go because it’s like church with more substance abuse. This is a crowdwatching type of party. This is a dance-with-your-neighbor type of party. This is a if-you’re-not-moving-why’d-you-even-come type of party. It doesn’t matter if you can barely hold a beat (which there was plenty of) or if your mission is to lose yourself in a haze of drunken breakdancing (which there was also plenty of), it’s a night of agnostic praise-and-worship through full body movement.
And speaking of people, Goldlink wandered onstage for the last song, blessing the flock with a pleasantly minimalist performance of his Kaytranada-produced “Sober Thoughts.” Every single person knew every single word.