Two drummers named Jordan and Jamie playing in the same room at the same time because it’s fun for them. And epic for you.

Might you want jrums.for.you@gmail.com ?

You just might. Serious inquires only.

https://www.jordanrosedrums.com/

https://www.jamieeblen.com/

Music for the after hours at the end of the world.

Mixtapes, specials, and live sessions since 2009. The MIDNIGHT ROCKERS EXPRESS is recorded in New York City. 

US&THEM, DJ GETLIVE!, JOAKIM JANSSON

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All I know about music is that not many people ever really hear it. And even then, on the rare occasions when something opens within, and the music enters, what we mainly hear, or hear corroborated, are personal, private, vanishing evocations. But the man who creates the music is hearing something else, is dealing with the roar rising from the void and imposing order on it as it hits the air. What is evoked in him, then, is of another order, more terrible because it has no words, and triumphant, too, for that same reason. And his triumph, when he triumphs, is ours. 

— JAMES BALDWIN, SONNY'S BLUES, 1957

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There are sounds I miss, but I don’t need them back, their quality and their value relies on them missing and being missed; they populate the void with howls and fugitives, and fuel my adrenaline. What’s endangered is the will to invent and release unapproved noises, and to force language to bend to that will rather than force tone to tend to the broken nervous system of late capitalism where everyone is always offended by unvetted sounds and waits to be told what to like and what to loathe. Long live the thought crimes and crypt dictions and haunted notions that turn into lawless music that everybody protests because they love it so much they long for the experience of yearning for it. While we’re so concerned about what the environmental disturbances tell us about potential human extinction, I think it’s plateaus in music and language and sound that tell us it’s over unless we stop outlawing cries for help that come in words and sounds that we are only allowed to explore in secret, underground, where everyone real went to be unseen.

— HARMONY HOLIDAY, from "ENDANGERED MUSICS", 2021

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The End of the World was a nightclub.
Drag queens with machetes and rhinestoned

machine guns guarded the red and impassable
door on Friday nights. Just a look at the crowd,

all dressed up and swaying outside, made people
want to yell the truth about themselves to anyone

who’d listen, but no one heard. The End of the World was loud. The End of the World leaked music

like radiation, and we loved the neon echo, even
though it taunted us or maybe because it taunted us:

kids leaning out of windows hours after bedtime,
cabdrivers debating fares at the curb just for an excuse

to linger, pastors who’d pause at the corner 
and vow that if they ever got inside, they’d burn it all down.

— SAEED JONES, "ALIVE AT THE END OF THE WORLD", 2022

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And this, this is the Core. This is where we broadcast our pirate signal and hack into the Matrix.

— MORPHEUS, THE MATRIX, 1999

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@DJGETLIVE
INSTAGRAM.COM/MIDNIGHTROCKERSEXPRESS

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