No hair: Hip-hop, drums, and "Racists"

Old School Hip Hop Jam at the Monticello Event Center
African Drum Festival on the Mall
Racists of Farmville and Atomatron at Tokyo Rose
Saturday July 26, 2003


A friend of mine was just diagnosed with adult ADD. When she told me, I wanted to laugh. Apparently she has a hard time paying attention during her college courses... who doesn't?

Yet at the same time I've seen her sit through a two-hour poker game without flinching. I guess everyone feels a bit ADD every now and then.

I was afflicted by the malady myself this weekend while on the prowl for music. Seems I couldn't stay in one place too long. My buddy Bovay suggested we roll over to the Monticello Event Center for the Old School Hip Hop Jam and Hair Show.

Unfortunately, we were too late for the hair show. But DJ Rush Hour was banging the Gangstarr classic "DWYK" as we arrived, and I nearly lost it. Few beats can rival that track. The room was empty, though. Rush Hour informed us that the police had come by and told the event coordinator that they couldn't serve alcohol because no one thought to get a license. Word spread fast, which pretty much ended that party before it started.

We decided to head to the Downtown Mall to check out the African Drum Festival. In traditional fashion they were set up in the middle of the block right in front of the Bank of America. This time they had a little PA, a drummer, and a keys player with them.

The crowd gathered around was huge. Everyone was having a great time, and the music was nothing short of amazing. All the south and west African rhythms pouring down the street created an spirited vibe. I was pretty bummed when they ended.

However, we headed on over to Tokyo Rose for Racists of Farmville and Atomatron. From what I could gather, the Racists of Farmville are not really racists at all. They were into some serious noise rock that included a four-minute feedback solo from the guitarist that cleared one half of the room. Honestly, I was pretty amused.

We arrived a bit late for their entire set, but did manage to catch Atomatron in all their pig-face mask-wearing glory. Atomatron played only two songs before the bass player (in prima donna fashion) threw down his bass because he said he couldn't hear himself.

That was shocking because he was damn near the only thing anyone off the stage could hear. The piss-drunk lead singer wouldn't stop tooling with vocal efx and yelling lameness while colliding head first into audience members. It wasn't long before the rest of the room cleared out. We went with them.