Letter from the Editor/DJ: Richard “Treats” Dryden
It’s a rare feeling when you think you’re the only normal person in the room. It’s tingly, like goosebumps, or rubbing a balloon against the hairs on your forearm. No matter how weird shit gets onstage, albeit a girl being attacked from the waist-down by Theophilus London, or a gnawing thought of a Mickey Factz lyric prefaced by his need to emphasize “Truthfully,” these are musicians who can make magic. You see the strings being pulled by DJ Treats (no third person hubris). Playing the tracks, scratching the samples, my role as a music technician was the heir apparent to a Michael Caine in The Prestige. Despite where the spotlight shines—most of the time in the direction of the talent—there was always someone who can see the pledge, and the turn, before the prestige. That is what FADER Media did when they tapped me as Suite903’s new editor. Who knew that months after running through London town, Japan to California, that I’d be here as an eyewitness to the musical massacre journalists pen from a distance. We go in to give those first-hand accounts, the flashes of brilliance that come with the first four bars of an artist’s voice, or the glow of a true performer through Suite903TV. With that, I welcome you to total soul.
Has Bobby Ray Got Nothing On Bruno Mars?
For four strong years between 2006 and now, Bobby Ray couldn’t get any play from the ladies. Dude tried his best: he rapped, produced, played guitar, even sang his own hooks for the most part. The downside is that self-proclaimed weirdo thing, which doesn’t get the panties dropping like a hook from Bruno Mars.
