Keepin' it real

Due to the intervention of involuntary and unavoidable forces, I landed up at Hyderabad CENTRAL last night. Upon reaching there I witness the brouhaha and am all curious to figure out its cause. As I walk closer to the crowd I can hear a lot of incorrigible noise which I guessed was some bloke rapping.

Voila!

WAR OF THE DJ’s

The last contestant from the prelims took the stage and tried to put his “shit” together. He got cheered from the crowd and the applause died out just as fast as it started.

It was quite ordinary.

Once he was done, this radiantly hot flesh on bones took centre stage. She was supposedly an RJ on Big FM and looked a lot like Shweta Gulati (the girl who played the role of the bratty Tia on Remix). And well, she began saying something which I’m sure no one took notice of. From where I was standing I knew the reason for this. The cleavage is far more appealing for the eyes than the compeering is to the ears. It was sinister man!

The results were announced and I could sense the disappointment of the crowd for some DJ who had performed earlier in the day (and really well apparently) wasn’t chosen and instead the last DJ to perform in the prelims was who according to me was quite substandard.

What this guy and many others I noticed were doing wrong was this:

They thought that they were still in a club, and the hoards of uncles and auntie ji’s along with chunnu munnu were party animals. And well their attempts of asking the crowd to “sing along” or “Bounce” didn’t really have the desired effect.

Another thing was that the tracks being played were the ones that really had no mass appeal, I mean come on ‘My Name is’ by Eminem was hot like what, a decade back?

And on top of that the WORST thing they did was this: They weren’t ready the moment they took the stage, as in they seemed lax. So what they did was that the moment they got on stage they played some really annoying music (mostly some beats which sounded like the sort of disturbance you get when you get too close to the microphone). Now that too would be fine, what was most pissing off was that this music would repeat itself over and over and over and over, and well never seemed to cease.

I suppose they were so interested in getting the technical stuff right that they forgot the three hundred people who were looking at them. And well I don’t know if you’ll agree, but watching a guy in a tight tee just pushing some buttons and occasionally uttering a nonchalant “yeah” isn’t really that entertaining.

Finally this thin bloke who resembled my favorite African American satirist/slap stick comedian Dave Chapelle, started doing something right. He played the tracks that are currently driving people mad ‘Jhoom Barabar Jhoom’ and got the legion of Uncles and Aunties on his side. Also the jumping and ghoomofying that he was trying to pass off as dance actually worked. The crowd got excited seeing a guy dancing really badly and having the time of his life. He was an instant fav! Also he didn’t keep the crowd waiting with those irritating noise (which sound like gun shots or laser firing) for a prolonged period of time.

I’m convinced that Trance music is the work of Satan!