I’m sitting in my sedan in front of Sopranos Pizza on Washington Ave. on South Beach watching a group of pigeons pulverize a slice of pizza on the sidewalk. It’s Sunday morning, in late March and the sun is rising on South Beach. It’s the final day of Miami’s Winter Music Conference.
I’m having déjà vu. Most likely cause I’ve attended this annual dance music marathon, where DJs, producers, artists and their hangers-on come to break new records, network and party, for the past five years. So here I am again to “house music all night long” as the old classic goes. I pick up my ever-present iPod Touch to read a twitter update:
i murdered the living shit out of the winter music conference.