Our evening might have started in the worst possible of all worst possible places — having “dinner” with the Spin-laws at the Arby's in LaVergne — but by the time our night was over, we were in such a good mood you'd have never known that our soul had been this close to getting crushed. Migs, his deep, West Coast house music and a few hours of nonstop ass-shaking were the perfect restorative after a long week and an even longer “dinner.” Fuck Yeah Friday Night!
Not that everything was wavy gravy on Friday night. Oh no, we and our dance partners had some serious, serious arguing to do before Migs took over — do we boogie down in the main room to openers Tony Callaghan and Mindub, and their killer, upbeat house sounds, or do we get down and dirty to the burly dubstep of Squake and Core in the side room? There are definitely worse problems to have — be thankful, Nashville, that there is a wellspring of talent behind the turntables in this town. We found a solution, though: starting tabs at both bars! Double high fives to all the locals for keeping us excited and indecisive all night.
We didn't really get to watch much of the infamous Dr. Wicklestein and his genre-bending, convention-flouting approach to the womp-womp-womp, but what we caught was tight as hell. Also, we plan on leaving the house at some point this week, which pretty much guarantees we'll catch Wick-it — or "The Lone Maverick Of The Apocalypse," as he may or may not be calling himself these days — again soon. Plus, hot damn, how in the hell are we going to miss the man, the myth, the legend Miguel Migs when he's in the same building? Soulful, song-fueled dance music is our jam, and there are few folks that keep it funkier and more fluid than Migs. Once he jumped on the tables it was like the whole world melted away.
There might have been other people on the dance floor, there might not have been — as far as we remember it was just the beat and our feet, moving like we were trying to make up for every show we've ever spent mean-mugging with our arms crossed at the back of the bar. The problem with great dance music is that it's bad for note-taking, so we can't tell you what Migs played besides the all-time super-duper-extra classic “Venus” by Cheek (“Sunshine people, sunshine people, we are!”) and that a short Italian dude (like Italian-from-Italy, not Italian-from-Jersey Italian) was having way more fun than we thought humanly possible. And then at some point the music was over and we were in a cab on our ride home, sweaty, drunk and stoked. Fuck yeah, Friday night!