DMZ Review in The Observer
The Observer, July 29, 2007
‘I’m not being funny, mate, but that racket’s just not music, is it?’ A drunken thirtysomething wanders past the DMZ club night in Brixton, looking sour. Next to him, the walls of the venue are reverberating with a heavy, rumbling bass. ‘I mean, I used to go raving, but I wouldn’t be able to listen to that stuff. I suppose you lot are all off your heads on pills?’
Loefah, DMZ’s organiser, smiles patiently and explains that people come here because they love the music. Around him a gaggle of shaven-headed boys have already gathered, 10 minutes before the doors are due to open. Their faces are filled with anticipation, bordering on reverence. Dubstep is the most exciting mutation of British dance music since drum’n'bass was tamed and co-opted by car advertisers. For its followers, DMZ is not just a night on the tiles, it is a place of pilgrimage.
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