Two ambulances pulled up outside the Showbox SoDo on Monday night, just as the doors were opening at 8pm. They attended to a very drunk young lady who no doubt missed out on the all-ages Diplo/Justice bill for that evening. Ah, the youth.

Upon entering, we came face to face with a wall of said youth and unavoidable flat-screen monitors plastered everywhere running MySpace videos and ad spam. Up the stairs to the bar, then with drinks firmly in hand, we wandered back down for the Diplo set. The sound at the Showbox SoDo space was as horrible as we've remembered it from other shows (c'mon guys, with those high wood ceilings you really could do something to address it). Perhaps we were too far back, perhaps the over-21 crowd was just a snore, but we didn't really get into Diplo's set. It was too jumpy and twitchy for us, he never let us settle in to a sample other than the many MIA remixes he played, and yeah, about one minute of that Enur song that we will totally admit to listening to on repeat while shaking our ass alone in our living room. One more drink, and it was time to go jump up and down with the younguns.

There may be those that hate the all-ages shows, but we couldn't imagine a better audience for a duo like Justice. This is music you spaz out to. The stage was a wall of massive amps fronted by the iconic Justice cross, the floor in front of them a bouncing, gleeful, sweaty mass of disciples to the church of electro. Yes, everyone was there probably to hear just one or two songs, but Justice made masterful foreplay of it, stringing the crowd along through build and release after build and release. (But the remixed "Never Be Alone" went on for at least 5 minutes too long.) Amidst the ecstatically up stretched, waving arms and fitful clapping, there was bromance in the air too, plenty of seemingly frat-boyish, popped collar dudes jumping around in wild circles, arms entwined around each others' shoulders. When they careened into us, we didn't care about age differences, whether we had a MySpace page or not (we don't), or whose elbow that was, because their goofy, young smiles beaming through Justice's schizophrenic beats worked a combined magic on us, and we simply laughed and shoved them back into the crowd over and over. We spilled out onto the street just as the encore was finishing, passing by the MySpace VIP area which we presumed was going to host a seriously lame-o after party. Apparently we were wrong, but the only Space we were fit to occupy by that point in the evening was our bed.

Photo by Flickr user Delgoff.