It happened. Our relative consciousness has been put in a forever altered state. We can never be who we once were; those happy, care-free people who enjoyed the simpler things in life like sunshine and drum and bass. Those people are gone now, and they are never coming back. We all know the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. We didn’t think it was possible. We got pissed when after the announcement all we got was this stupid T-shirt. We tried to trick ourselves into believing that if we would just ignore them it would all go away and they would go back to being normal DJs. And then we got sad. What if they did go back? It was supposed to be different, it was supposed to change everything. And then we accepted it that hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day. They tried and they made some cool music. But what did we expect, men in giant metal suits with on board power, embedded with RBG LEDs and equipped with helmet mics and in-ear monitors who played custom MIDI guitars with LED fretboards and a fully digital drum kit? Pshh, pure poppycock! But they don’t mention the sixth stage of grief. It’s an unspoken phenomenon, one that gives hope to the hopeless. We don’t speak of it because it’s such a rare occurrence, people can’t cling to it. The sixth stage is revolution, when the subject of grief changes permanently. Usually it happens with hillbillies and aliens, but not today. Today, we are forever the 21st century children of the corn; we are The Destroid.
It happened on a Friday night in San Francisco, because everything happens in San Francisco. A stage adorned in black, with that haunting symbol. What could it mean? What lies in wait for us? I pity those that had to see it with their eyes; legend says they were never heard from again. Others say that they transcended that day, and followed the disciples onto the mother ship and back to their home planet. All we were left with is a video that is 2 minutes long. It opens with a reminder of those chilling news casts we watched for weeks following up to the event. And then it hits us. The lights. The bass, my god, the bass. The lasers. The rage. The drops. And that gosh. Darn. Bass. The kind of bass that makes the floor shake. The kind of bass that makes an earthquake. The kind of bass that makes bitches want cake.
I am talking about the dubstep band-that-shall-not-be-named…Destroid. Typing the name just gives me chills. After seeing that video and hearing their debut album how can it not? This isn’t your parent’s music. This isn’t your neighbor’s music, or even your friend’s music. This is some weird super-conglomerate alien inspired fuck jam music. The kind of music you play when you’re holding a séance to resurrect cyborg zombies. The kind of music you play in hopes of causing a rip in the space time continuum to send your DeLorean back in time. The sound that the all spark makes when it comes in contact with Optimus Prime.
It’s crazy how three super humans could become something so much more. Excision, the Executioner, the 100,000 watt man. Downlink, the Canadian bass technician who, judging by his badass hat, is an Ice Trucker aficionado. And KJ Sawka, just some no name drummer from a little band, maybe you’ve heard of them? Pendulum. They kind of changed the entire course of music once before. So they got that going for them.
But these are only words people. There are videos of this historic event. Flock to Youtube now! Witness the carnage! Because they are coming for you, Michigan. They are coming for you Jersey. And they’re coming for you New York. So hide your kids, hide your wife, cuz everyone’s about to get Destroid this summer. Whether you like it or not.
