A Letter To Tyga: You Made Us Wait Too Long Thursday
Photo by Jae Tobar/lifebeginsatmidnight.com Tyga did finally go onstage... well after 1 a.m.
Look, Michael -- may I call you Michael?
Michael, I'll be honest: What happened Thursday night hurt. A lot.
I don't know if you ever showed up -- I heard you went onstage a little after 1 a.m., and I want to believe that, but I believed that you'd show up between 10:30 and 11 p.m. like was advertised, and that didn't work out very well for me. But really, it doesn't even matter. You weren't there when I needed you.
I stood through a set from YG who, in case you missed it, exerted no small amount of energy shouting about how he was not interested in receiving a hand job, that he only wanted to receive oral sex instead. (Far as I could tell, nobody was offering either.) You didn't rescue me.
I stood through the nothingness of a DJ that felt compelled to play records that haven't been popular in years and carry no nostalgically effective asides (Lil Wayne's "Get Money," things like that). You didn't rescue me.
Still, all of that could've been overlooked. Alas, nothing.
All I wanted to do was shout the words to "Rack City" with you and about 1,000 white kids and then go home and go to sleep, so I could wake up and go to work and tell people about how profound it was to listen to that song that specific context.