In the past, a few City Paper reviewers have been critical of Kulture Klash. They’ve said it’s been too much of the same thing, not innovative enough, yadda yadda yadda. But who freaking cares? Granted, I hadn’t been to a Kulture Klash before Saturday, but I had a blast.
Circling 10 Storehouse Row, weaving inside and outside of the space, every round you made you saw or heard something or someone new. Whether you were looking at 3-D art (complete with glasses), rooting for your favorite in a breakdancing circle that may have popped in any part of the space, eating samples from Sweeteeth chocolate, running into random friends, posing in a particularly bitchin’ photobooth overseen by City Paper friend Jonathon Stout, shaking that thang at the silent disco, or eating a fish taco off of Taco Boy’s truck, KK6 would satisfy anyone with an attention disorder.
And I must give a shout out to the guy that donned a denim vest with shiny-silver-streamered shoulder pads that autotuned his heart out in front of a thrilled audience. Props dude. Props.
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