Dubstep Dwellers

There are many different types of Dubstep dwellers. So many, in fact, that I could write a book fit for an A-level sociology class on them. But I’m talking about a specific group here. The sort that you find in the darkest corner of every Vagabonds and FWD. The types that stand by the DJ booth waiting for Plastician to finish so they can spud him and say ‘ sick set man’. The type that boast to their friends about how they gave N-Type one of their beats they made on garage band.

I’m talking about the girls in those Reebok things. Workouts? Classics? No. Them high top 80’s American tourist things which have been updated in neon or with gold stripes that they insist on wearing with leggings to show the full (vomit inducing) boot off. They enter the club with their make-up fresh, their hair shining and just a little bit tipsy. They leave at 6am with their makeup down to their chin, their hair tied into a sweaty bun and their jaw moving faster than a top of the range dildo.

The only Men attracted to these women are the Dubstep guys. Guys whose voices have barely broke wearing clothes their mother clearly picked up for them on her way home from her social work job. They wear their trainers until their holey sock comes out the bottom. Until the once red and white dunk highs are now only one color- brown- matching the rest of their muddy colored attire.

They stretch that ten pound note that mum gave them to buy a bottle of Captain Morgan’s which they sneak in down their ill fitting, scuffed bottomed jeans. They then buy one coke at the bar, mix half and drink the rest straight. After a couple of bumps or K from their beloved K-head/ dealer / wasteman friend they are ready to hit the dance floor and show off those moves they’ve been practicing in their bedroom. These moves consist of hunching their back and waving their arms about in time (almost) to the beat. Every time ‘Night’ comes on they might do the old gun fingers, shout ‘TUNE’ then revert back to the same gorrila-esq position.

Now I’m not sure where these people come from. I mean, I know they’re all from North and the suburbs of London but how did they become so obsessed? I reckon they evolved from that drum and bass culture of not caring what you look/ smell/ dance like and jumped on the next scene that allowed them to do that. These people damage all five of my senses. They ruin nights. They give Dubstep a bad name. If you are one of these people then please, if not for my sake but for the aesthetics of Dubstep raves; have a shower, buy some new clothes and maybe get a subordinate hobby. If not, then stick to the drum and bass.