Dave Matthews Band (DMB) is the muzak soundtrack of the yuppie (and proto-yuppie) class's lifestyle.
DMB exists to provide "chill time" and a false sense of third-world earthiness (he's like, white, but African, yanno?) between Economics papers and/or Marketing Team meetings.
DMB is carefully formulated to be well-played and intricately composed while guaranteeing not to significantly challenge its listeners' musical expectations, social viewpoints, and hazy comfort beyond pot-laced commentary like ". . .man. . .that solo is fucking GENIUS!"
In short, DMB is the Kenny G of the Bonnaroo generation.
I was crazy stressed from my Econ test already, then my dad called to tell me my mutual fund was down. Bullshit! So I packed a bowl and slipped on some DMB to, y'know, chillax.
DMB, a shitty unoriginal nonsense abbreviation for Dumb Masturbating Bitches. They have smelly pussies and bite the heads off babies on stage for entertainment and to turn on the fucked up souls who venture to their shit holes they call concerts. They always play with dildos shoved far up their ass cracks and always wear Sex Panther in the case of a serial rapist coming backstage for a good time UH. Their chodes always sweat intensly and each smell like a locker room full of gay guys in one huge sweaty sauna orgy. Thank you and goodnight.
dude DMB is currently sucking on the end of george bush's bush hairs and covering them in grey poupon and humping my door, John Belushis titties make me so horny.