Not Your Average Basement Party

The biggest problem with basement parties is how little anyone remembers about them. The combination of free drinks and party exhaustion is like dosing yourself with GHB, which, understandably, creates a scenario highly conducive for memory loss.

In an effort to provide an accurate recount of this party, I’ll start by sharing my notes. “SKATERS is a band. Lolawolf is also a band. They are good. Vibes. Milk Studios is cool.”

I remember hearing that the plan was to fill the room with beautiful people only, but someone didn’t get the memo and let me in. I remember bartenders were good at serving me drinks in a very quick fashion—maybe too good. I remember meeting Telli from Ninja Sonic and talking about Hoodstock, a house show we were both at in West Oakland years ago. I remember a drug dealer threatening to shoot me there. I remember we totaled his Cadillac by dancing on it. I don’t remember anyone threatening to shoot me in the JamRoom, but like I said, my memory is incredibly hazy.

I imagine the photographic evidence will shed a little more light on what the night was like—certainly more than I’m capable of doing. So, as my favorite astronomer Zohaib Sheik put it, “Time will reveal things and make confusion vanished.”

Photography by Erez Avissar

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