Elliott David

This one goes out to the RomCom ticket holders and disc jockey cock huggers. Once upon a time, we wanted to get nuts. We got nuts. Her name was Diane Keaton, and she was a lively sprite. Her ears were filled with nu-disco nostalgia and popcorn-buttery mixes. Born Jonathan Murphy Coleman, DJ Diane Keaton was once DJ [whatever comes out of his mouth], until he STOLE the name from a certain young writer: this guy. Of course, the story changes depending on who's telling it, and currently I am. The writer moved to Manhattan, watched Maid In Manhattan, and became DJ DKNY. Y? Because why the fuck not. 

So what have we learned? We learned that it's easy to diss compact discs, but this interweb of ours is a harder target for vinyl-philes who love its pay-to-play nature. So re-enter DJ Diane Keaton and Golden (nee Jessie Rogg, producer of Sam Sparro's hit music nutsack & Modus Vivendi Music). Their recent mix, Something's Got To Give, is a mouthful, and makes them jeans all ooey gooey. It is spacey, niggerish beauty. Soul disco funktronic baby blunts, all low-fi and digitized. Fuck getting nuts. Get Millennial.

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THIS IS HOW WE OOEY