Lydia

Lydia is a tattoed lady, who, after eight years of dancing, can see through the stripper matrix, but cannot figure out a decent tan. Other joys include, but are not limited to, finding any reason to sweat, reading books about nutrition and special diets, good whiskey, attempting to listen to every song ever written, riding a scooter, and practicing the art of using it instead of losing it. 8tracks.com/users/haveyouseenlydia estringsgstrings.tumblr.com


Zappa says that talking about music is like dancing about architecture. What few people realize is that normally I AM dancing about architecture, so I’m going to give the talking about music thing a shot.

Hi. My name is Lydia, and I’m from the Midwest. I’ve been honing my music folder in the same club for eight years and a few weeks. By the end of my first night my manager had nixed all instrumental music from my auditory arsenal forever (goodbye Amon Tobin). By the end of the first week I’d learned the hard way that Iggy’s “I Wanna Be Your Dog” was out too. In fact, anything produced and recorded in a manner that didn’t take up enough sound space was out (I still love you, Violent Femmes). Bass. Drums. In my manager’s words: stuff guys recognize, stuff they can sing along to. I spent some time fighting that, a lot of time dancing to “#1 Crush,” and a lot of time being completely fucking confused about how to bring my idea of music for a perfect strip club and the perfect music for my strip club together in a happy marriage of loving-the-one-you’re-with.
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