w/ Tokimonsta, Tchami, Alesia
War Memorial Auditorium; Nashville, TN
September 30, 2014
Review by Sarah Sharp. Photos by Brian Hill.
There were lights. There was music. There was bass. There was dancing. There were people dressed up like idiots. There were people not dressed up like idiots. Skrillex was great as we expected him to be. And thank god the War Memorial was being put to good use. That venue is way too often underutilized. The real highlight of the night was hanging out with Skrillex until 6 in the morning. So I guess this is less of a review and more of an account.
It all started when I breezed backstage. I knew a couple people back there, so I wasn’t just some bitch fangirling. Though I wouldn’t be ashamed to say so. Coach and Rate were back there too. And all three of us had a nice little family photo with Sonny (aka Skrillex). Shortly after the photo op and some fireball. Sonny says we’re going to “The Studio.” Studio? Yeah, “The Stu.”
The Stu just so happens to be the abode of a couple of my dear compadres Nick Curtis (recorded and produced Cherub, Natalie Prass, etc.) and Tommy Stalknecht, head of Product Development at Bomb Plates. I call up Tommy, and I’m like, “Yo, rollin up the crib with Skrillex.” NBD. Follow the fucking yellow brick road to Skrilltown.
They were all there from that night’s performance—Skrilly, Tokimonsta, Tchami, and Alesia.
It was sort of what you’d imagine a studio/house full of DJs to be. Skrillex and Toki were in the mixing room. Tchami and the guys from Alesia were rotating from the piano to the instrument room to their computers on their headphones—all of us periodically entering the mixing room to see what Skrillex had achieved. It was fascinating watching him work. He’s a superstar DJ. But this is where it starts. Nerding out on a program on a computer.
Back at the venue a couple hours before, a few of us expressed interest in laying down some flows, and Skrillex was clearly down. I’ve been known to drop a verse or two in my day. NBD. Not a pro by any means—not scared of a microphone either. I was not alone: there was some goth kandi chick named Triple 6 with hair identical to Chris Kirkpatrick (N’sync) and some other dude writing verses on a notepad—both interested in slaying the mic.
At this point, Skrillex had been tinkering in Ableton for like two hours. Tokimonsta had already left. Triple 6 and I had both taken a nap and woke up and started drinking again. The silent writer was still working on half a page. So with his beat in order, Sonny was now ready for collaborators. He grabs the mic and leaves it open for us to take. Triple 6 was trying to come up with her flow in her head and other guy was still writing, so I jumped.
I layed down a couple verses off the cuff and he pulled samples from those, including a very visceral “dick pic” and lots of heavy breathing and yelling that would eventually build up to the bass drop. It was hilarious, and we had moments, and the moral to this story is nothing compelling.
It is this: Let’s all just stop giving a fuck and rap with Skrillex, cause you might be on his next track (I probably won’t). At the very least, he might remember you. Or some chick who goes by Divaslop and raps about dick pics.