GirlTalk at Terminal 5

He brilliantly blends Lil Wayne with Temple of the Dog, makes even the most stubborn wall flowers shake their booties and pump their fists, and thumbs his nose at Copyright law. Greg Gillis (stage name GirlTalk) has become an itunes DJ-god to headband wearing, underage drinking college freshmen from NYU to, hell, everywhere! He's certainly my favorite high-tech DJ. Anyone else who can, in under 6 minutes, play me the exact 25 songs that I absolutely NEEDED to hear, though didn't know it yet till I heard them, is aces in my book.

Not to be outdone by the ultra hip coeds, who could easily jump into a print ad for American Apparel, I spent the entire day planning my "costume". My final wardrobe decision was, by most standards, relatively tame and lacked both day-glo ability and headwear, but I felt I would blend in, so I braved the New York cold and headed out to Terminal 5 with every intention of sweat/dancing my ass off!

After pre-gaming via happy hour at Social, Yael and I (Beth stayed for another round) headed to the venue and were immediately overwhelmed by the hyper crowd. We walked in, checked our coats, and made it to the main floor just in time to catch the beginning of the show, which began with about 150 screaming fans rushing the stage to dance with the DJ. Immediately thereafter the crowd was pummelled with toilet paper, showered into the crowd by leaf blowers. (You know you're old when your first thought is "hey, you're wasting that toilet paper")

And so it began, a sweatty buffet of every song that ever sounded amazing played over a halfway decent sound system in an over stuffed club. Initially, I thought I would try to fight the crowd for a spot on the stage, but after I saw a few kids fall to the ground and almost get trampled, Yael and I retreated to half court where we skirted the perimeter and danced in a slightly less threatening environment. The air was thick with the smell of Redbull, sticky bodies, and farts.

It was brilliant. I fist pumped, I shouted the lyrics to rap songs, early 80s Rick Springfield hits, and Nirvana, and I was told by the drunk girl in front of me (who couldn't have been older than 19) that her friend in the red-hooded sweatshirt and emo glasses (also underage) was "really into" me. I fit in! Woo Hoo! As GT worked the crowd, he became sweattier, and shed more of his modest clothing, ending the show in true faux rock star style standing on top of his DJ table shirtless, and wearing what can only be described as very low slung inside-out sweatpants?! Yes, it was hot.

After spending at least 20 minutes attempting to retrieve my coat from coat check, I hit the freezing cold air outside with ears ringing and feet throbbing. I havn't had a night like that in a looong time! Horray for GirlTalk!

What makes this photo especially hilarious is that Yael thought she would seem out of place in her flannel shirt. Apparently the cool kids wear flannel too (look behind her).