A few years ago, I worked as a hip-hop DJ at a nightclub in Illinois. I always tried to please the crowd, so when a girl came to my DJ booth and asked me to play some Feist, I did, though at that point in my life, I had no idea who Feist was. And I was seven drinks into my set, so I really didn't really care much, either. Feist. Sounded badass enough. I had the Canadian singer's Let It Die in the club's music library, so I picked a random song from the album and sandwiched it between some Lil Jon songs about syrup and behinds. Looking up, I realized that Feist had been successful in clearing the entire dance floor. Turns out the music of the former member of Broken Social Scene wasn't the kind of thing that got folks moving. I refused to cut the track, though, and listened to her lyrics, zoning out to the ethereal, spectral music as club patrons booed me and left. It was a DJ's worst nightmare: I had failed the party. When I got home, I downloaded the rest of the album and listened. The buzz had worn off, but her ethereal, haunting music hadn't. — Blake Moscatello
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