Remember the last months of 1999? I sure do. I was a young lad of 17 who was cursed with the face of a street-legal eight-year-old. So, as I waited for my body to sprout more than four blondish hairs, I did what everyone did back then; I wore baggy trousers and listened to hip hop. It was right about then, as the debate about the Y2K bug somehow destroying mankind raged on, that Dr Dre released his masterpiece album 2001. It was a brash, sexist, aggressive mess of an album which suddenly filled a generation of middle-class Irish twats like me with a weird, unmanageable need to be black, lyrical and gangsta. So, if you want an excuse to show you are one of the hardcore who never forgot about Dre, or maybe you just love you some hip-hop symphonies held in hipster halls, come to XOYO and get ready to throw down.