Marilynn: Girl Talk has been the topic of conversation lately.
Gregg Gillis mash-up album Night Ripper has become a dance party staple since its summer debut. When 450 tickets became available through the Wisconsin Union Directorate's Music Committee for Girl Talk and Man Man at Club 770 last Monday, they were gone by 10:30 Tuesday morning. A prominent "sold out" sign over the Girl Talk poster on the closed box office door turned away disappointed fans who were shocked that the tickets had gone so quickly. Between $20 and $40 was being offered on Craigslist for one of the free, but limited, tickets as desperate fans tried to secure their way in the door.
Sophia: Those vying for coveted crowd space in the man-rocks-laptop performance did so with good reason. Girl Talk shows have become legend for their ultra-hyper energy and uninhibited dance-party feel, at which the DJ mastermind himself often joins in the crowd-surfing, booty-poppin' fun. Girl Talk's eclectic and unpredictable fusions of everything from Top 40 to classic rock sounds have elevated him to deity status, at least in the eyes of one admiring Madisonian, who I overheard proudly boasting as we waited to enter the room, "Dude! I just took a shit next to Girl Talk!"
However, no account of the show would be complete without crediting the intensely dynamic openers, Man Man. Any band preceding Girl Talk would require supreme crowd-rowdying abilities, and Man Man more than filled this role — although I'm usually skeptical of any band whose name sounds as if it was selected by choosing a common noun out of a hat, then repeating (see also: The The).
Marilynn: For many fans, Man Man was the main attraction. The broad range of instruments played by this five-man band created a sound that was both eclectic and upbeat, and provided contrast later to the sparse Girl Talk stage that included Gregg Gillis mixing tracks on his laptop. The bizarre, but very interesting, sounds of Man Man added to the diversity of the crowd and catered to those who enjoy something a little more raw and performance-based than the polished sound of Girl Talk mixes.
After Man Man's set, the anticipation in the crowd continued to build. As the lights went black the audience chanted and clapped enthusiastically faster and faster until the tension ended in excited yelling, slowly quieted down, and then built up again to repeat the cycle once more.
When Gillis finally began bopping behind his computer with his opening song he yelled into the crowd, "Madison, are you with me?" And within ten seconds, about 50 people from the floor got with him — as the pushing force of the crowd overflowed onto the stage, where the environment was both aggressive and exhilarating as people elbowed, pushed and stepped on feet to get closer to Gillis, or to simply avoid falling off the stage.
Sophia: As Girl Talk himself proclaimed, Man Man was really "awesome." But the crowd seemed ready for some serious dance tracks, and Girl Talk was ready to deliver. His offerings, like his third and most recent CD, Night Ripper, were a blend of samples from current radio favorites and old classics. And by "old classics," I clearly refer not to his cuts of the Smashing Pumpkins, so much as the chance I was granted to proclaim "Whoop There It Is!" immediately bringing me back to my glory days.
Girl Talk's appeal, spanning from the incredible mash-ups created by mixing beats and lyrics from multiple genres, is echoed through the diversity of the audience he attracts. The often tongue-in-cheek pairings off Night Ripper, such as a blend of Elton's John's "Tiny Dancer" and "Juicy" of Notorious B.I.G. fame, seem as unlikely as the hipster/clubber/coastie integration seen at Union South on Saturday night. Thus, in an era of celebrity rivalries solved through "dance-offs," Girl Talk's "why can't we be friends?" musical credo seems far from idealistic, rather, his seamless melding of distinctive sounds may emblemize the "everything goes" attitude of the hip-hop generation.
But without looking too deeply into Girl Talk's "greater implications" for society, the obvious conclusion drawn from his show is that Madison students, like all kids, like to have fun.
The final moments of the night were a practice in cooperation, as technical difficulties required that the swarmed stage be cleared in order for Girl Talk to lay down one last track. With no microphone, the DJ politely requested silence, which spread as if a principal had disrupted the fun at a middle school dance. With the crowd's attention granted, Girl Talk began by thanking us for our participation, but stopped short and said, "Wow, you guys all have such sincere looks on your faces."
I looked up to see what he was referring to and saw 400 grinning students, sweat-drenched and satisfied, craning their necks to hear what geek-with-the-computer had to say. It was clear that Girl Talk had successfully delivered the good time we had all anticipated. In the world of the evening, Girl Talk was God, and we were his humble, dancing servants, gratefully gyrating to whatever he had to offer.
Marilynn: As the initial craze of the crowd wore off, there was a clear distinction between the theatrical performance of Man Man, and Girl Talk, where the aesthetics were pared down to say the least. Gillis' laptop mixing may be considered inferior to DJs who prefer to spin with vinyl, but regardless of the process used, the fact that the only part of the show to look at was the sweaty-banged dancers pushing for a more visible spot near the front of the stage, and those who kept knocking down speakers and stepping on cords. The atmosphere created by the schizophrenic combination of music put together by Gillis could not have been more exciting.
As Wyndham Manning, director of the WUD Music Committee said, "It was like the best house party ever. Some people drink too much, knock stuff over, try to be the DJ, mess the music up, and then … your neighbors try to shut you up, but at the end of the night, you look at your friends, sweaty and tired, and try to figure out what just happened."
