Remember Where You Lost It

Like a lot of kids his age, my brother can't tell the difference between atmospheric and liquid funk. Or even deep house and tech, for that matter.

Because, like a lot of kids his age, he missed out the rave scene of the Nineties. They don't know about Apollo 440, Danny Rampling and never experienced the primal, ear-splitting thrill of listening to Prodigy's Firestarter and not being able to associate it with anything else they were listening to during the death-knell of Grunge.

See, they totally missed the bus!

They never felt the rush of listening to the Chemical Brothers Block Rockin' Beats, for the first time, and wondering just what the fuck they were listening to, or why it sounded so strange and beautiful.

They didn't do the Backroom-Clubhouse-Movement circuit (in that order), didn't go to Zero, didn't get rat-arsed drunk or trip at Digweed. And don't get me started on Bukem.

The thing is, you can't really blame them; their earlist memory of Oakie was probably the Swordfish soundtrack, whereas ours was Dragonfly.

You can't call them posers just because they think Tiesto is God (before the Southern Sun remix, there was Destination Sunshine, all right?) or think that Zouk is the ultimate club, just because it's the biggest club in KL right now.

Kids, you don't know shit. But you know what, it's all good.

Because you weren't there from the start.