About fucking time, right?
So once again I find myself drawn to Paris
on the trail of the elusive Dubstep. Based on my last experience at 9b,
which was sincerely un-dubsteppy, I'm starting to get a little concerned
that the word itself doesn't really mean anything. At least, it seems
as though it refers much more to a certain kind of people and a certain
way of approaching music, rather than a classification for sound itself.
But if my education in contemporary experimental music has taught me
anything, it's patience and optimism in the face of almost certain
confusion.
Getting to Glazart requires a train ride out into the absolute ass-north of the 19th, just above of Cité de la Vilette in the neighborhood of Aubervillers. I chose to get there by getting off at Porte de Pantin, south of the Parc de la Villette, and thereby getting a chance to walk through the Cité at night. In hindsight I think it was a bit of a dangerous decision, not because of any hoodlums or anything like that (no, drunk teenagers from the Sorbonne do not frighten me) but because of this:
You are looking at La Géode, the giant fucking hemi-spherical projection screen at Cité des Sciences. As imposing as it looks in this picture, in full daylight, let me assure you that it is 100 times more terrifying in person, at night, when you're minding your own business walking through a curated forest and then FUCK HOLY FUCK SHIT CHROME DEATH STAR BIG!
Anyway, Glazart. The event that pulled me to the outskirts of Paris was this one, Birds in the Brain, but it wasn't an event so much as it was a program, a gallery of electro, if you will. As you can see on the poster, the whole shindig kicks off at 23h45 and runs until 6, which probably should have tipped me off that they do things a little bit differently at Glazart. It's not so much a concert space as it is a nightclub, meaning you really aren't intended to show up early and stay the whole way thought but rather pick the act you want to see and wander down at your leisure. Which is why I decided to show up early and stay the whole way through.
Ugh but it is fucking impossible to get beer in this city. I should say it's very, very easy to find beer-like substances, strange liquids that either taste like half-digested raspberries or diluted runoff from a shitty bakery. And I'm certainly not going to drink red wine while there's dubstep playing, so it looks like it's time for some sober dancing. To music like this:
Ah. Yes. Well. Yes. Not exactly Skrillex, is it?
Hey man, I can't complain. Honestly the music isn't nearly as important as the people listening to it, and if you're into giant shirtless Scandinavian dudes flailing their sweaty meat tubes in time to unyieldingly driving bass drums then Glazart is the place for you. And honestly? In a dancing context I'm into giant shiftless Scandinavian dudes. They know how to get absolutely crazy, which is what 4am dancing in Aubervilles should be all about.
Overall? Glazart--you should too. I'm headed back on the 18th to see Dafake Panda, that's for sure. Come drink some shitty beer with me.
 |
| Above: Youths |
Getting to Glazart requires a train ride out into the absolute ass-north of the 19th, just above of Cité de la Vilette in the neighborhood of Aubervillers. I chose to get there by getting off at Porte de Pantin, south of the Parc de la Villette, and thereby getting a chance to walk through the Cité at night. In hindsight I think it was a bit of a dangerous decision, not because of any hoodlums or anything like that (no, drunk teenagers from the Sorbonne do not frighten me) but because of this:
 |
| Fucking. What? |
You are looking at La Géode, the giant fucking hemi-spherical projection screen at Cité des Sciences. As imposing as it looks in this picture, in full daylight, let me assure you that it is 100 times more terrifying in person, at night, when you're minding your own business walking through a curated forest and then FUCK HOLY FUCK SHIT CHROME DEATH STAR BIG!
Anyway, Glazart. The event that pulled me to the outskirts of Paris was this one, Birds in the Brain, but it wasn't an event so much as it was a program, a gallery of electro, if you will. As you can see on the poster, the whole shindig kicks off at 23h45 and runs until 6, which probably should have tipped me off that they do things a little bit differently at Glazart. It's not so much a concert space as it is a nightclub, meaning you really aren't intended to show up early and stay the whole way thought but rather pick the act you want to see and wander down at your leisure. Which is why I decided to show up early and stay the whole way through.
 |
| Look, I'm at a club! You just have to squint and look at the two pixels that aren't black. |
Ah. Yes. Well. Yes. Not exactly Skrillex, is it?
Hey man, I can't complain. Honestly the music isn't nearly as important as the people listening to it, and if you're into giant shirtless Scandinavian dudes flailing their sweaty meat tubes in time to unyieldingly driving bass drums then Glazart is the place for you. And honestly? In a dancing context I'm into giant shiftless Scandinavian dudes. They know how to get absolutely crazy, which is what 4am dancing in Aubervilles should be all about.
Overall? Glazart--you should too. I'm headed back on the 18th to see Dafake Panda, that's for sure. Come drink some shitty beer with me.
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