A Disappointment On The World Stage

 

Tijs Michiel Verwest, Stepping in and out of the spotlight since 97’, is one of the most respected producers in electronic music history. He released 5 studio albums, was titled “World’s Best DJ” on 3 separate occasions, dated a Dutch model and is better known under his alias, Tiesto. Spouting facts like a broken trivia fountain, I could gloat about his accomplishments for days.. but to keep it short n sweet, there’s an immense militia of trance warriors that would courageously follow him into battle, the man has an army.

Tiesto is the Meca for house lovers. When word broke out that Big T would ride through town on his dazzling white stallion, people started raging. The windows of IV viciously shook, not from pounding techno music, but from fist pumping induced atmospheric depressurization. So I didn’t want to go.

Long story short, I was offered a reasonably priced ticket the morning of the show.. and I can never say no to a good bargain ^_^

So I went.

A smile as big as the moon gleamed off my face as I neared the illustrious SB Bowl. Excitement coursed inside me like liquid electricity. This was a beautiful moment.

Despite my glowing positivity, #collegeinvasiontour shat on my face.
· I got there at 8pm, Tiesto was already spinning. dafuck? I was expecting this guy to wake up the sun with me.
· Fire marshall was posted with the volume knob in his tight grip. There was no bass. I blindly scavenged through crowds in a desperate search for just a little taste. The place was wobless.
· Security was unnecessarily heavy. I couldn’t even bust a move without a yellowshirt breathing down my neck.
· His set was SO bland. Avicii’s Levels, really? I’m paying 50 dollars, give me something FRESH. Lets be real, Kaskade did it better.

Tiesto, I thought you were the best? I was ready to embark on a journey; instead you gave me Hypem’s top 10 of the summer. You’re milking that retirement fund like a champ.

I thought my night was dead and buried, but then out of the cold, thick air, I received a magical text. Porter Robinson was to play an inconspicuous private show in my neighbor’s backyard. My friends were sure it was a hoax, but low and behold the boy prodigy made an appearance.

About a hundred people on a beachside balcony, probably the most intimate show I’ve ever been to. Everyone was sippin on glass brews and blunts were in roto like free candy. I kept trying to pass the bleezy to PR, but he was vibed out, completely engulfed by the music. The set was flawless, the crowd was rowdy and the night was salvaged.