BOOK REVIEW

By Marc Christensen
5/17/00

Settle down, yobs

Don’t let the mix CD included with this issue of Mixmag fool you into believing it’s what makes the magazine worth buying. That star you see up there is for the CD, all by itself. A mix CD is a good thing, but this one isn’t particularly captivating, and the content of the magazine this particular month is extremely questionable.

Most problematic from a local point of view is the "Bass Cars and Booty" article. Like a bad modern take on the 19th century’s Hottentot Venus, Mixmag decided to send two dumb, blond, horny reporters to Detroit to rediscover the 2 Live Crew-esque dance parties for the "exotic" consumption of their pals back in the cold, rainy isles. The article does take a moment to notice that there’s a captivating sound track provided by local boys DJ Assault and his crew. Still, it’s as embarrassing as going out to a club with a friend who turns into a horny, geeky pile of social gaffe as soon as he senses a hint of cleavage.

Now there’s nothing wrong with a little hot action on the dance floor. And the UK rave mags have all made a buck or two by highlighting snapshots of the one or two scantily clad chicks who show up for any given party. But this issue seems to step over the edge twice: once for basic pandering, and again for the implied racial imaginary which connects brutality and sex.

You see, Detroit wasn’t Mixmag’s only stop this month. It also goes to Brazil, for photos of mass human cockfights held as a "dance party." And their most telling callout quote suggests the connections the editors are clearly most interested in this month. One young gladiator, apparently recovering from his time in the corridor of violence, says simply, "I like the fighting. I like the music. And it’s easy to get a girlfriend."

After the summer of love, when Britain’s native soccer hooligans started dropping MDMA and doing group hugs instead of drop kicks with the ravers, maybe the voyeuristic need for violent acts had to go somewhere. But y’know, it doesn’t always have to be "over there" – because there’s always rugby, mates. Get a life.

Marc Christensen writes about books for Metro Times.