An MC to the left picks up where the dead turntables left off. He starts spitting and hissing. He is alone for a second but knows we need time to come back. An MC to the right pops his hands together over his head and scans us like a wise father. The MC to the center charges up his lungs and calls us to clapping, 'cause they ain't no music, 'less we makin' it.
Hands come together.
Then they come together harder. Them MCs left, right and center are respectively spitting, clapping, and calling for us to clap harder, to bring back the thump. We try with all we have to tell ourselves, to tell each other, that the circuitry of our humanity can handle the power it takes to bring unity to this crowd. The music booms back on and we cheer and try to believe that we need it.