There once was a time when easygoing folks would gather at their friends' apartments for the simple act of mixing juicy tunes into juicier ones. Good people would gather around the decks and watch their friends take turns at being selectas, while themselves eagerly awaiting to impress the others with the new tunes they had recently discovered. Somewhere along the line it all went to hell...
The f
unk somehow became "f**k you c**t!!" to complement the $13 glass of bourbon and coke rapidly clearing the distance between table and a bystander's face...
The Hendrix and Reservoir Dogs posters were replaced with scantily clad women with 5" fingernails and expressions implying questionable intent...
The latest rage was supplanted by its literal meaning...
As the scene proved a viable and incredibly profitable commercial venture for inner city nightclubs, it inavertedly began to isolate the beat connoisseurs that disagreed with the aggressive nature of mainstream entertainment. Zablotskii and their like minded associates awoke one uncomfortably bright morning after a night of masochistic debauchery and formed the Eezyhaus Crüe out of spite to their grave conditions. One that may bring about an attitude change incompatible to the aggressive mainstream, and one that would invariably reward them with a lynch mob. And yet, in the face of a condescending, power tripping, insensitive, foul tempered and belligerent night club security guard, there lies the hope of his profession’s eventual redundancy.
