WMC 2010 Dispatch - Thursday Night

Photos from Mynt by Carlos Miller

Winter Music Conference. Three words that send any self-respecting Miamian into a frenzy of excitement and exhaustion. Because while the Super Bowl brings great crowds and A-List parties, and Spring Break brings uninhibited good times, no event in this city matches the wire-to-wire insanity that is the third week in March. If you’re still standing at the end of Ultra on Saturday, well, you just haven’t done conference right. My week of pounding beats and little sleep began on Wednesday at the Global Underground party at Mynt.

I’VE STILL NEVER PAID FOR A DRINK AT MYNT

As I was paging through the endless list of WMC parties, I noticed that GU was throwing a party open to media and “industry” only on Wednesday. More importantly, I noticed it had an open bar. And if there’s one thing a journalist will never pass up, it’s an open bar. Obviously the good folks at GU knew this, as Mynt was as crowded as it is on any good Saturday night. Except it was Wednesday. And instead of VIPs, the club was full of freeloaders.

When I had RSVP’d to the party, the lady who responded to me told me the “talent” would be granting interviews until midnight. And while I found the prospect of interviewing top-name DJs vaguely exciting, it also reeked of work. Something I really wanted to avoid during WMC. Fortunately, the only interviewing going on at Mynt was from guys trying to pick up on the endlessly hot girls that somehow found their way into Mynt. And if this party was for media only, I’d like to know where exactly all these girls came from. I’ve never met a reporter with at 22-inch waist and D-cups. Then again, I haven’t covered Music Conference.

After exhausting the open bar and saving Carlos from yet another South Beach altercation, it was on to Casanova Ultra Lounge on   Ocean Drive to see Richard Vission. I had seen this DJ at Revolution in Tampa a few years ago, and he sold the place out. Tonight, he didn’t even sell out the seats at the bar. I’m not sure, but I’d wager there were more people in the men’s room stall at Ted’s than there were at Casanova. And while Vission actually spun a pretty solid set, we realized it was time to move on.

WMC or DMV?

After ending the night at the perpetually revolving space that was once Planet Hollywood with the dregs of the WMC crowd, I awoke the this morning to go pick up my badge at WMC headquarters in the Eden Roc. The process for getting the badge was eerily reminiscent of the DMV, where you had to stand in one long line, only to fill out a bunch of paperwork, then wait in another line to take a picture. And then wait again for your badge. The only difference here is that A) Music Conference has a Starbucks there while you wait and B) The people behind the window don’t hate you. By Miami standards, the service was outstanding. Which means they spoke English and didn’t act like they were doing you a favor by taking your $175.

My handwriting was so bad the first badge they printed up had me working for a company called MiamiBach41H.com. Assuming that Gus had not decided to branch out into agriculture, I asked them to make another one with the site’s correct name on it. The next one had the site name right, but had me listed at Matt Melizer. Matt Melizer, apparently, also was out very late the night before as his eyes were completely bloodshot and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a month. But, really, if you don’t look like that every morning during WMC, again, you haven’t been doing it right.

GOING ASS-BAG CHIC AT THE EDEN ROC

This afternoon brought the official WMC pool party, titled with the ubiquitous sexual innuendo “Size Matters.” I’m not sure exactly what they were referring to here, but I can only guess it’s a reference to the size of the implants required for a female to enter. I had decided to try and look as un-trendy as possible and rocked a cut-off T-Shirt, board shorts and my Ironman visor to the pool. Which got a sort of quizzical look from one drunk girl who asked me;

“Is that a logo for a DJ here?”

I just said no. I guess there aren’t a lot of Ironmen pounding Bud Light Limes at 2 p.m. on a Thursday.

The DJ they had playing, a fellow named Steve Angello, ran his set like a mini-Ultra stage, as partiers gathered in the grass poolside to watch him do his thing.  His set was impressive. But the girls dancing were more impressive. I had forgotten the level of talent WMC attracts, but as awesome as Spring Break is for female visitors, Music Conference blows it out of the water. You go from cute college girls to professional hot chicks. This is why I love March.

CARL COX MAKES ME WONDER WHAT EXACTLY HE DOES

I ended the afternoon at a Q and A with DJ Carl Cox. Cox, for the unaware, looks like he should be playing Defensive Line for the Chicago Bears, but sounds like he should be butlering for some stuffy English guy named Nigel. For an American, it’s a little jarring. His manager and some promoter from Ultra asked the majority of the questions, which ranged from how he got his start to his thoughts on using USB sticks for his sets. Which was good, because the majority of audience members who asked questions were really asking Cox questions about themselves.  And nobody wanted to hear that.

Cox’s session was interesting, but kind of sad. He talked about how he used to spin records, and mix them, and how much of an art there was to that. Now, he says he just plugs in his USB stick and goes. Which makes me wonder:  Why the Hell do we still pack 45,000 people in Bayfront Park to watch guys plug in USB sticks? I mean, I love the music as much as anyone, but what exactly are these guys DOING? There’s not even anything to spin.

Perhaps this weekend will answer some of my questions. For now, I have to go home and get changed for the International Dance Music awards tonight. And my WiFi time at Burger King is almost up. Hey, Eden Roc, if you’re going to host an international conference full of media, WiFi in the lobby might be a good idea. In case you didn’t notice, journalists are cheap. And we’re not shelling out the $9.95 the UPS store wants for every 18 minutes.

Related Categories: Miami: Nightlife, About the Author: Matt Meltzer is a featured columnist at Miami Beach 411. See more articles by Matt Meltzer. See more articles by Matt Meltzer Was This Post Helpful? Please Share It With Others! Tweet

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"WMC 2010 Dispatch - Thursday Night"

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