Things you’ll only remember if you were a true dubstep fan from 2009 to 2011
‘Just wait for the drop’
Though for many teenagers dubstep involved pirate radio stations and raves in dingy Croydon warehouses, for a lot of us it was a decidedly more tragic time.
Mid-way through our GCSEs, free time was spent listening to bassy remixes of Ellie Goulding's Starry Eyed, discussing how jokes nicky rush is and combing greasy side fringes as far over our foreheads as possible.
Everyone liked dubstep, or at least they said they liked it. Even those leather jacket wearing Arctic Monkey's guys that shunned music composed with electronic sounds, anything with a rap verse and the entire Top 40, suddenly were listening to Jackwob and Magnetic Man. But what were the other weird things that went on?
EVERYONE WOULD DRIVE AROUND THEIR MARKET TOWN IN A FIAT PUNTO WHILST PLAYING SKRILLEX'S BANGERANG
As you pulled out of the Tesco Express car park, you'd enjoy watching old ladies in quilted coats screw up their faces in disgust at the womp womp womp womp sound thudding out your speakers.
Those with shit hot tech didn't need to make CDs using Windows Media Player, instead they installed aux cables.
Your Granny might have bought your car for £1,300 after seeing it on her neighbours grass verge, but you still felt like a massive baller.
LITERALLY EVERY POP SONG WAS SPED UP TO 140BPM
Though my gut response to 80 per cent of remixes is "play the original" in this case, don't bother, La Roux's In For the Kill is still shit. Fingers crossed the turbo-charged tempo will make the wailing end prematurely.
EVERYONE WAS OBSESSED WITH THESE BANGERS:
WHOLE PARTIES WERE DEDICATED TO DUBSTEP
You'd have "gatherings" which involved crowding round sofa or pigeon shit stained benches trying to outdo each other with songs. Your heart would sink when your chosen song was met with a collective groan, but then you'd reassure everyone, "wait for the drop".
THE GUN FINGER WAS THE BEST WAY TO PAY TRIBUTE
Though the only guns your lonely northern suburb had ever seen are those that fire out water, every photograph had to incorporate gun fingers, otherwise is it even a picture?
Props to those who got on their knees at the front of the group, to add some dynamism to the shot #vogue.
How much you pointed your gun finger at your mate was an accurate measure of how much you liked one another. Wherever they walked, the gun finger would follow.
EVERYONE GAVE NICKNAMES ENDING IN A 'Y' OR A 'Z'
'Josh Stone' became 'Stonesey', John Morris became 'Moz', Alice Davis became, 'Davey'.
FOR SOME STRANGE REASON EVERYONE WAS DOING MCAT
Perhaps the biggest moral panic of the 21st century along with emos and reports of Facebook invite parties where entire houses were hacked to bits.
Everyone over 43 would refer to MCAT as meow meow. It could be found at your local corner shop along with fake weed which was probs made out of moss or something.
DUBSTEP WAS ALWAYS PLAYED OUT OF A SONY ERICSSON PHONE OR SOME REALLY SHIT BATTERY POWERED SPEAKERS
You'd get speakers as your "main birthday present" from Aunty Julie. Everything they played out would be accompanied by a fuzzy hum. And this was when things went well. Often you'd get to the park and realise you'd forgotten to bring the speakers. Phone in glass cup it is.
THE DROP WAS AN ABSOLUTELY ICONIC MOMENT
But then also not because literally every song had one so you'd have to fire yourself up every 5 mins.
THE OFFICIAL DUBSTEP UNIFORM WAS
– Plaid shirts with a fastened top button.
– Rosary beads (because culturally appropriating Catholicism is always chic)
– Superdry hoodies with at least one neon feature
– Wax finish baggy jeans.
– Mop hair.
– Snapback cap with the sticker 'accidentally' left on.
THE ONLY WAY TO DANCE WAS THE TWO STEP.
Passing weight from one foot to the other like you're on hot sand and you need to make it to a sun lounger before the top layer of skin peels off.
PEOPLE HAD JUST STARTED SMOKING AND "YOU DON'T EVEN TAKE IT BACK" WAS LITERALLY THE MOST HUMILIATING ACCUSATION THAT COULD BE LEVELLED AT ANYONE
You might as well lock me up for tax avoidance, this is literal blasphemy.
Everyone would be all like: "I swear down the tobacco is going into my lungs, it's poisoning them and turning them black, there's yellow stuff choking my arteries, believe me guys, gut me open and check."
IT WAS A TIME BEFORE SPOTIFY SO YOU'D SPEND HOURS ON YOUTUBE2MP3 CONVERTER
Gazing at your clunky desktop computer your eyes would go dead and watery from obsessively pasting in links from the new Chase and Status album. At least you'd have some fire tracks to flaunt at the back of the 8am school bus.
YOU MIGHT LAUGH BUT YOU DEFS STILL GO MENTAL WHEN KATIE ON A MISSION COMES ON IN THE CLUB
As I inhale the fuUuUuUmes.