And thus, at 8:29pm on the Sunday night before it is due, I complete my contracts assignment. The small essay that began its nucleus phase weeks ago had finally come to fruition as a hulking motherfucking beast but alas, after wrestling with the dreaded nemeses Word Count and Assignment Cover Sheet, I have prevailed and the world of David is returned to stability. Amen. Meantime, last night was fun. Hitting up the X for the first time in too long, I witnessed first hand the real underbelly of Sydney in all its urine-stained, vomit-splattered, subwoofed glory. It was sweet. It is in that theme that I continue tonight (having sleighed old contracts) with what I think (and J will hate me for it) is one hell of a fine dance track. The video was so explicit that they banned it (briefly) on the kids version of Video Hits. Question whether the programmers expected Gaga or Spears’ latest. Still, its a roaring hot (if not particularly new) song and I loves it.
I had this idea for Kings Cross last night as I was walking back to my friend’s car at some ungodly hour. How fitting it would be for their to be some kind of KXfm that only operated on a Saturday night between 9pm and 3am. It would be perfect for the pimped-out, rimmed-up, passed-out, mufflered-up hoodlum crowd. Excellent for the Bayswater Road revelers and a true blessing for the strip’s clubs (which all play the same music anyway) who could forgo the expense of those pesky DJs. But what would they play, I hear you ask? For one, Yeah Yeah would be on heavy rotation. Alongside it would have to be that great mix of nostalgia (Jackson, Earth Wind and Fire, Cypress Hill et al) classics, Bob Sinclair tragics and the entire back catalogue of every Ministry of Sound annual – ever – all set to the accompaniment of a trumpeter/percussionist/drunk-off-key-chick-with-halitosis. Imagine. Public service announcements to let the crowds know that the sniffer dogs were in town. Alcohol ads. Biggsy! Excuse me, I just jizzed in my pants.
Anyway, regardless of whether KXfm ever really gets off the ground (which it won’t, patently, because it exists solely in the recesses of my brain) this is the perfect track to set a Saturday night in the Cross to. What better way to experience oppressive heat, bodies, crazy door bitches and lines too long for water? And of course, once its over, you can just put it back on again, because nobody distinguishes between beats and everyone likes it when they know the lyrics (oddly, it seems to be almost natural for people to put their hands in the air and scream like girls – regardless if they are or not – when they recognize, finally, a track). Yeah Yeah’s lyrics are easy enough. Amidst all the turgid techno, excessive bodily fluids, bad pizza, angry cab drivers and facebook hangovers, it’s one worth savouring.
Bodyrox Ft. Luciana – Yeah Yeah