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| quote: | Originally posted by Ted Promo
Hah, update here after you're done. We'll make this a Bonobo stoner concert tour thread. |
Well the Bonobo night was not nearly as epic as I had anticipated. Me and a friend got to the venue just a little after 9. We smoked a few bowls in the car, popped a vic and then walked to the club. The line was the longest I had ever seen for Mezzanine (Granted I've only been there a few times). And it was painfully slow as well. By the time we got in, the cold weather had killed our highs and there were no ins and outs. Inside proved to be stuffy, swarming with hipsters. There was nothing but a long endless sea of checkered scarves, kangol hats and asymmetric hair cuts. The place had clearly oversold tickets, and there were barely any chairs for sitting, except for the upstairs bar area, which had already been claimed by these pseudoscene folk. 40 minutes of standing in line, and another hour and a half of standing around, while the vicodin seemed to just weigh down my legs even further.
By 11:30, the opening DJ act was replaced by another live band performance, and I believe many in the upstairs area thought it was Bonobo, because they left their seats to peek over the balcony. Having counted on this to happen, I immediately leaped over to claim two newly vacant seats for me and my friend, as we continued sipping our Long Island iced teas and playing Tetris on our mobiles. After some sound problems which left the club music-less for 20 minutes or so, Bonobo and his entourage of musicians took the stage. At this point I was already fed up with this place. The vicodin high was no longer, the drinks had given me only a faint buzz, and the pungent, sporadic smells of scorched herb had me fiending. I don't know why we hadn't attempted to sneak some in. We had counted too much on those in and out privileges.
We left the club at 1. While I do enjoy Bonobo's music, it was far too crowded and chaotic, to properly savor a live downtempo performance. I enjoyed about 10 minutes of the entire night. Bonobo's live interpretations of Recurring and Noctuary soothed my soul, while my body was jostled about by drunks bumping into me every few moments. Both me and my friend had enough. San Francisco nightlife does not do Bonobo any justice at all. When we returned to my friend's house, we sparked up two bong bowls, smoked a lovely mixture of coconut and Margarita shisha, and listened to most of Bonobo's productions in flac quality. The home experience proved to be far superior than the authentic San Francisco one. If I ever go to another Bonobo event again, it better be in a lounge setting with plenty of seats. I'm growing too tired of the night clubs.
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My first ebook: The Plastic Wilderness / 2010 prog/deep mix
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