So, last night, I went to So Stoked: Rave to the Grave 2
at DNA Lounge. So Stoked is DNA's once-a-month kandi rave; I don't usually attend, but I confess that I do really miss getting to dance to high-BPM trance. Rave to the Grave
is a kind of unusual event, where the So Stoked promoters join forces with the Death Guild
promoters; upstairs, are the Death Guild DJs playing (maybe a little bit older, and faster) Death Guild tunes, and downstairs, are the standard kandi rave DJs. In the two times they've done this, they've had one big-name EBM DJ and one big-name rave DJ for each one; last time, they had Ronan Harris, of VNV Nation
, and this time, they had Daniel Graves, of Aesthetic Perfection
and Kyau & Albert
. (Both DJs played both rooms.) The event is, anyway, weird enough, and enough fun, that I try to make it a point to attend when it comes around.
and I arrived around 10pm or so, a little while before Daniel Graves's set, and we stuck around downstairs through some of the later sets, too. As far as I can tell, the two of us were basically the only ones dancing with glowsticks, and I was dancing pretty darn hard.
Eventually, this kid walks up to me. As far as I could remember, he wasn't wearing a wristband
; I'd seen him getting a light show from someone with LED gloves
earlier that evening. He looked impressed -- and somewhat transfixed -- so I obliged, and turned my glowsticks in his direction."Dude. Are those just glowsticks?"
Yep. The best 4.5-star glow that Amazon can sell you for $20."Dude. Do you ever use gloves?"
Nope. Just glow. LED gloves are after my time."So you never used gloves before? Just that?"
Nope."That makes it even more impressive!"
The best of the knightofstarz
Roselawn 7 School of Dance, my young friend.
He says something. Mumble.
I can't understand it over the noise.
He pulls out his phone. He opens Snapchat. I nod, and turn up my dancing a notch to give him another light show. He doesn't seem to be aiming his phone at me to video; instead, he leans in to say something. Mumble.
I don't understand.
He pulls up his QR code. Snapcode. Whatever it's called. I understand.
I grab my phone and launch Snapchat, and aim the viewfinder at his snapcode. It doesn't automatically scan. I realize that I don't know how to scan a snapcode. I try going to the "add friends" tab, and tap on "snapcode". It asks me to select an image from my camera roll; I didn't capture one. I fumble in embarrassment. Clearly, I am not a very competent Millenial.
He looks at me, and I hand him my phone. He expertly finds my snapcode, and just types my name into his phone somehow. I didn't think my profile was public, but maybe I am just the only "joshua" on Snapchat. He adds me, and smiles, and goes on his way.
I now understand. He uses Snapchat and gloves; I use IRC and glow.
Tomorrow, he will see my Snapchat story, with snaps of heckling my coworkers, and shitposting about my impending disappointment with a screenshot of buying MP3s
of the new Above & Beyond album on Amazon, and he will be as confused as I.* * *
(Young raver friend, if you come across this, keep on rocking. I am at least as much making fun of me as I am of you.) You heard me. Darude. Like, Sandstorm Darude.
 Who, by the way, were also freakin' fantastic.
 i.e., he was not of drinking age. So Stoked is an all-ages event. This is, on occasion, somewhat unsettling. I am pretty sure that the song Sandstorm was older than the median age at the event when they had this last year.