R.I.P. K-Swift. This is just devastating. Since the whole white-kid embrace of Baltimore club music has already happened, already been discussed to death, it's important to remember that that first K-Swift H&H warehouse party, the one where a real serious credible Baltimore club DJ played her music to grubby punk dudes and MICA kids for the first time, was one of the dizziest and most cathartic and just generally greatest "live" music experiences of my life. Since I hit drinking age, it might've been the only one where the urgency and energy was anything like what I got to feel at VFW Hall punk shows in high school. K-Swift was a great DJ and a hell of a showman, and also a consummate pro: she kept going through multiple sound-system fuckups. If I hadn't been too pussy to go to the black Baltimore clubs where K-Swift regularly played, I could've probably had a whole lot more nights like that one. K-Swift stayed in the clubs and on the radio constantly, virtually every night of the week, grinding hard. K-Swift did more to get Baltimore club music out into the world than almost anybody. And she was 28, same age as me. She'll be missed.

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