Seoul Goes Boompty Boomp!

Just as I had begun a downward spiral into withdrawal from my heavy addiction to live music happenings, my friend Brian sent me a text proposing that we attend a Derrick Carter concert at Club Mass in Gangnam.  To be honest, I hadn’t the faintest idea who this “Derrick Carter” was, nor was I familiar with his musical mission statement.  But, true to form, I jumped at the opportunity to momentarily alleviate all the unfulfilling mundane that had taken hold of my previously wonderful nightlife.  Without hesitation, I collected all the necessary items for a night out on the town (e.g. a bottle of water, an extra phone battery, earplugs, a digital camera, a handful of plum-flavored AnyTimes, and a toothbrush) and hopped on the train for the hour’s ride southward and across the Han into the confounding mixture of socioeconomic overindulgence and snobby boorishness that is Gangnam.

I got to Nambu Station early.  So, Bri and I just swilled the pre-party moments away with Rebecca and friend from across the hall, Baby Stevie from two floors up, a bottle or more of red from the GS25 downstairs, and a YouTube playlist.  When the bottle(s) fell empty, that was our cue to head.  Down to hail a cab we went and off into the clear, warm night we flew. 

As it so happens, we made it to the club just in the nick of time.  Only moments before midnight (when Derrick Carter was scheduled to have commenced his spinning), our group jumped behind a six man queue.  And within seconds, an impossible hoard of people materialized behind us, a black car with darkly tinted windows pulled up alongside the red carpet, and out popped a man who I presumed was the night’s special guest with entourage in tow.  Like a man on a mission—who was late—Mr. Carter rushed through the already open doors and into the club.

After suffering a rather comical succession of disdainful glances from the mise-en-scène around us, my companions and I descended into the wondrously Derrick L. Carter accompanied atmosphere of Club Mass!  I have to say that I was sorely impressed by the expertly arranged décor, soft lights, and sheer size of the space.  The main body of the club was like a glorious arena (or a really swanky high school gymnasium) dominated by an unbelievably large dance floor lined with two levels of lounging areas and small bars. 

It only took me two shakes to check my bag, get shoved a few times too many by a very inconsiderate and very whiney native girl, and join in the boompty groove.  I regret to say that I was so quickly taken and held prisoner by the music that I neglected to capture any slices of life from that thrilling evening.  Rest in the knowledge that, after about an hour in the crowd, I jumped my joyful behind up on the stage (welcomed by a Marvin Gaye sample mix and a knowing wink and nod by Mr. Carter) and remained on my pedestal till my body would bounce no more.