Out of all the locales in the New York City area, Bushwick is one of the ripest for where DJ Douche Bag likes to linger. Who is this man, you wonder? He’s the archetype of every asshole who won’t play a pop staple because it’s not esoteric enough.
He lurks far and wide at every bar from Tandem to Bossa Nova, never considering the needs of the listener because he’s too goddamn consumed with proving his own self-worth to himself by ejaculating every time someone doesn’t recognize a song. The Burning Bush subjected itself to talking to one of these DJ Douche Bags, DJ Parfait (not because his taste in music is perfect but because he’s thin, like a flaky parfait layer), who defended, “People don’t want to hear the shit they always do when they go out. It’s my responsibility to bring them an entirely new soundscape, to give them an auditory orgasm, if you will.”
But all that comment did was result in auditory vomit from all the earwax buildup accumulated as a defense mechanism from being aurally raped. Hearing is, subsequent to smell, the most powerful sense, after all, and should be treated accordingly, not with music that’s deliberately overly loud so it can mask how bad it is and the fact that it probably doesn’t have any words apart from the occasional moaning. The DJ Douche Bag collective responded, “If it’s too loud you’re too old.” Which could mean we’re about to join the exodus of olds and leave the shit-tastic playlist scene to the youngs.
Written by Genna Rivieccio