Ballistics, Titts, and the Clack-Clacka

I'm not gonna get deep into Bullets — mostly because they dished-out only three well-received electro/funko/retro songs, and that's not much of a data set, really — but I'll say this: If last night's Crowd Control party at DC9 was anything like the norm, then it's a worthy time-killer on any given Thursday. The rules seem to be thus: Show up and enjoy yourself, people.

And what about the night's after-midnight B-more guest, DJ Tittsworth? Dude could spin go-go for an hour, and I wouldn't complain. He's got it figured out.

But this begs the question: Is this the time — that mystical-magical time, blessed by the ubiquity of the Internettens and fueled by the curiosity of groove-hunters e'rywhere — that go-go gets to the forefront? DC heads — black, white, whatev — are obviously glad that they can call that shit their own. And on a good sound system, is anything more distinct?

But is it totally futile to be the 40,000th person to ask that question?