Finally! You know how long I’ve been saving this goddamn white turtleneck and those Birkenstocks and Wayfarers in my closet? Oh, how I crave pastel-pink-sundress-clad babes, playfully tossing their perms in the ocean breeze for Vaseline-lens cameras flashing in the sunset. Sweet freedom!
Let’s back it up a little here, dear readers, so you can join me in this beautiful vision. There’s a particular episode of the amazing Web show Yacht Rock (look it up!) in which we discover the story behind Warren G and Nate Dogg’s decision to sample late-’70s/early-’80s soft rock (there really should be a catchall moniker for this incredible period in pop culture. The Haircut Emancipation? The Moustache and Synthesizer Years? The Oh Baby! Boom?), to make a smoother, gentler version of rap. Since seeing this episode, I have waited—nay, yearned!—for the moment when I could properly enjoy a conceptually complete, ambiguously ironic theme event entirely devoted to the melding of dad rock and hip hop culture. Crunk vs. chest hair. Gold chains vs. golden oldies. Well, I wait no longer. This Friday, June 26, and the last Friday of every month, I can go to Yacht Club, which will encompass this very fantasy and be held at a newly renovated Playhouse (on Parc), featuring a hot new sound system plus a newly installed dancefloor. That’s organizers Karn and Babychairs, aka Tommy Horror of promoter GirlGuides, and guests, and cover’s cheap if you wear all white.
The other tidbit of required listening this week consists of M_nus label boss, techno genius and legendarily, mind-bustingly good DJ Ritchie Hawtin’s appearance at Piknic on Sunday. Seriously, just don’t miss it because you’ll be hearing about how good it was for literally 18–24 months.
YO, CANADA! jack.oatmon@gmail.com
