Cover your laptops, it’s a Girl Talk show.
(credit Illya on Girl Talk’s MySpace)
Last night we hit the Girl Talk show up in Dalston.
All the gigs I’d normally describe as intimate are the Unplugged in NY type – up close and personal with a band. Last night I got introduced to Girl Talk’s own brand of intimacy.
If you haven’t heard Nightripper yet, get it now. The thing that makes him so special is his ability to identify which 20 second section of a tune moves the dancefloor the hardest, and then find a place for it in an hour long mashup of other such samples.
The idea of finding the best section of a track and looping it is how hip hop started with DJs isolating the break in an old funk track and reloading it repeatedly. 2 turn tables. Given that at least 50% of Girl Talk’s samples are hip hop or funk it’s like some sort of funk and soul 2nd derrivative – the best bits of tracks built on the best bits of tracks. But it’s not just his ability to find the killer hooks – it’s how naturally he uses that filter for quality to effortlessly cross genres – from The Boredoms to Elton John to Biggie to The Pixies, all in the space of a few minutes.
2 tracks here to get you ready for the hype i’m about to drop:
Girl Talk is the best DJ in the world. I said it, and I challenge you to name one better. I’ve seen some good ones – Diplo, Marky, MK, Scratch Perverts, Get Down Crew (ha!). Nobody smashes a dancefloor like Girl Talk did last night.
The stage was invaded within the first 5 seconds and 200 people climbed all over each other to surround Girl Talk and his laptop – which was covered with plastic to catch the neverending stream of sweat dripping off his brow and bouncing off the keypad.
The table he was DJing off literally rotated 90 degrees as the crowd swayed back and forth around him. Calmly smiling in the middle of it all Greg just kept mixing sample after sample with a crowd literally surrounding him in a circle packed 20 deep – eye of the storm mixing.
So fucking inspiring. Bring that Get Down Crew reunion.
Respect to Bardens Boudoir for allowing that shit. That’s how a real jam should be – so intimate you’re watching the DJ’s sweat bounce of his laptop.
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