While I generally applaud the Washington City Paper for spotlighting local artists and merchants, I find nothing newsworthy or even interesting about the patronizing posers in Thievery Corporation (“Beats Working,” 3/5).
Do they deserve pity because of their inability to locate a club in their leased luxury vehicle that is even trendier than the one they created? Are we supposed to admire their musical prowess despite the fact that they have contempt for their customers? I don’t plan on throwing my money away on any of their mixes given my firsthand experience with the Eighteenth Street Lounge. Arriving late one Friday night with my girlfriend, I was surprised that the person at the door tried to shake us down for the exorbitant cover charge, which perhaps was needed to fund his purchase of more Europop trash. When I protested the hour and the fact that I had not previously been extorted in this way, this prick inquired about what designer fashion I was sporting, as a means of evaluating my pulse on his London-tailored chic meter. Upon refusing to play this dick-waving game and patronize his overpacked and overpriced lounge, we were met with taunts to go back to stylish suburbia. I’d rather go to Chi Cha.
via the Internet