The media tent offered a place of refuge for the pouring rain and wind chill. Sweater soaked, shoes heavy and carrying a camera enveloped in a white Glad trash bag, I sat in my chair resting until another event or concert required my presence. While preparing for my next venture into the rainfall, my phone began to vibrate. Frantically trying to slide the answer button with my near numb fingers, I hurriedly ran to the corner of the tent that wasn’t blasting heavy trap music from speakers larger than I. The phone call was from a public relations agent. While pressing the phone against my ear in attempts to hear the voice, I heard: “Connor?” Turning around, I saw Ms. Villanueva, who had a phone pressed tightly against her ear as well. We laughed and exchanged greetings, and she asked if I was ready to conduct the interview.
I was guided to the other side of the music-blasting tent; I called my team over and pulled up two chairs. He then passed my shoulder and began to sit down, pitch-black hair falling over his shoulders. The top of his head featured strands of hair twisted into cornrows, with the remainder flowing freely behind his neck. He smiled at our crew, asking about our education – in a way, he began the interview himself.
The tent, once buzzing with conversation, now grew silent. I could feel the intense, inquiring gazes glaring holes into my back. The hushed pack of journalists began to gather around my team. iPhones flashed, video cameras beeped and urgent whispers cut through the sudden still. Who’s this kid interviewing the Guinness World Record holder? The most charitable EDM producer? The highest grossing dance/EDM artist from touring in North America? Who’s this kid interviewing Steve Aoki?
No matter who. All focus was centered around Aoki, who was ninety minutes away from playing his set in front of thousands of fans to be drenched in pouring rain. A few would even have sheet cakes thrown in their direction – only if they wanted the frosted chunks, of course. I found it difficult to imagine the cool, collected man in front of me on that stage. The Steve Aoki in this tent, on camera, was the same Steve Aoki to be on stage, on camera. Only in this tent, he wasn’t thrashing his arms above his head, bobbing his head to the bass of his tracks, screaming out to the masses who screamed in return, popping champagne that soaked the fans even more so, and rearing back to launch his signature cakes at voluntary fans. In this tent, he stood silently, not inviting attention – just waiting for it to come. Hands in the pockets of his black, faded hoodie, he gave an intent gaze around the tent. As soon as he had walked in, this was Aoki’s tent. As soon as he rose from behind his turntables, this was Aoki’s stage. As soon as he played his famous remix of Kid Cudi’s “Pursuit of Happiness”, this was Aoki’s Air+Style.
by Connor Layden
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