“I Was There” Files: Camp Lo @ Element

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So my childhood dreams walked out of 1998 and onto the lower east side on Monday night when I saw Camp Lo perform at Element. It was the after party for United Trade Show I believe. It could have been the after party for Ajax Sniffers Anonymous and I really wouldn’t have cared. I nearly exploded when I heard the bump from those epic horns on “Luchini” and literally ran inside, pushing mushmouthed fools out the way to gaze at Sonny Cheeba and Geechi Suede.

And they killed it. I mean I was on some Tiger Bop bool plop when I was 14, tearing out pics of Sonny Cheeba and Geechi in leisure suits and goldfish platforms and praying to their flyness every night. So to see them in person, even with Geechi’s funny-actin’ BLONDE beard lookin’ very Christopher Street, was a real treat. I was my usual splaboo late self having stopped for some Sparks (it’s not a Monday night without it) but I did get to see them play “Black Nostaljack” and reprise “Luchini” and do some other songs that are just flimsy memories due to prolonged Sparks exposure.

And bless all the cute children who showed up. There were tons of mid-90s heads who were clearly trying to get in to this new-millenium fitted jeans, girlie man phenomenon (I danced with some guy who looked like Rass Kass) but they were adorable. Not too many of those overly sceney children who stay lookin’ like they on some commercial for “fierceness.” Lots of real boys (yay!). Since dating is for doodyheads I was content to look around but I did see my favorite random New York head, (I think his name is Kenneth, I need to get my stalker game up) who sports a fade that would give Kid N Play a boner for days.

Only thing is everyone’s in the same scene so once the Lo left, the place cleared out and everyone went to give Ghostface some head or something. But they missed a stellar, stellar set by DJ Rich Medina. Ya boy was basically like, “fuck this! it’s 1998 in this bitch!! say somethin’!” and he played the eff out some of my iPod mainstays. He threw down Common’s “I Love Music” and nearly gave me a coronary when he cued up Redman’s “Da Goodness.”

But the highlight of the night was how naive I was thinking I could just sip one Sparks and go back to my lair and behave. My new friend recoiled in sincere horror when I told him I wanted a (nother) Sparks (“You actually imbibe that shit?” To which I replied, “Copius amounts, dear”). Drinking one Sparks is like saying, “I think I’ll kill just one clown today.” You can’t just do that. That shit has repercussions. So one Sparks grew into three (in about an hour and a half) and we ended up at Kush dancing to fool ass Diwali riddim and debating whether or not to smoke us some shisha. My pants were unnecessarily tight but I did try to wine up de waist a bit and it wasn’t till later that I noticed Dead Prez was in the back of this empty-ass, jank-ass bar suckin’ back some shisha smoke and probably shaking their heads in genuine sadness for their lost little sista. Cosmic.

Eventually I went home and battled the rot-gut at work the next day all in the name of the Lo. Clearly, I need a new religion because the Church of Crack and Rock is really not doing me right.

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Here’s Camp Lo looking like their about to interview at Modells for a “dressy footwear specialist” position after they pick up some free soup at St. Agnes.

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