There is something sultry about osmotic vapor and you can smell it. Taste it. You can cut it with a tongue. You can cut your teeth on it. Grit them. After gargling and guzzling the mood, I looked around, hoping to catch a wave, if not crowd surf. You see, all the people act like they’re kind of familiar with and to you. It’s not exactly kind––more kind of. This could have something to do with MDMA. Consequentially, there is a feeling of interconnectedness.
Anybody could appear; anything could happen. If you couldn’t do anything, however, you could probably do anyone. It’s this sense of mystery that obscures the knowledge of tomorrow, by which many party like there is none. Like there’s no today, even; or, no time like today. Others think they have something interesting to tell you or have to tell you something interesting; that maybe, at least, you’ll find it interesting. All told, they can’t quite communicate what’s at hand.
In other words, there are no words. Instead of seeing what’s at their feet, on the tip of their tongues, it’s more like feet in mouths. Everybody wants to keep the ball rolling, or, just rolling. People have war stories before they’ve been to war, so to speak. They tell stories about things that may not have even happened yet, if they ever do. Nevertheless, if it feels like emotion, it must be global. Even if it’s otherwordly. They confuse raw stories with war stories.
You would never know these people are on drugs. I wouldn’t, at least. I always thought the pacifiers just prevented suckers from speaking. Looking around, noticing the usual suspects, I begin to wonder if I, too, am usual. I start to look around for others looking around, expecting to find my exact experiences imprinted on someone’s glare. Or maybe it’s just the glare. It’ll be some combination of the light in their eyes with the light reflecting off of them.
It is at that exact moment I realize what the EDM thing is about. There is the anticipation of alerting everybody to your angle of incidence. Your perspective, where you’re coming from. Intersecting with others in more nonthreatening ways than you can shake a stick at. Peace, love, and synthetic harmonies. Synthesis. I mean synthesized. Could it be…that among tens of thousands participating, some were…meant to be? Cue Tinder. Cue Grindr. Whatever you like.
Bumble around like nobody’s bzzknzz. Of course, there must be something special about those who like EDM as opposed to another, more specific genre of music. They like EDM. Thinking about it, “EDM” is kind of like pizza. There are tons of types, but many duds. Food for thought. Few make the identical slice. They build the same kind differently, for better or worse. Ultimately, you know pizza when you see it. Anyone can make it, but few can make it well.
There are definitely times in hearing EDM when you’re like, “What am I listening to?” On those occasions, I suppose you don’t know it on sight. You can hear it though, right? You don’t see the zoo for the cages. I saw sound waves ripple through the water vapor. At the time, I said, “Yep, I can see where that’s coming from.” Lyrics were not to be confused with the audience chirping along. Who knows what they’re saying? In this sense, the vapor is both sultry and desultory.
As a phenomenon, the EDM preoccupation shifted before anyone got notice. Eventually, producers got noticed at a moment’s notice. We were put on notice: this is happening. And this? On some level, EDM was ahead of its namesake. This moniker was branding. Few knew what the classification meant or why anything erupted in the first place. It’s kind of like “The Big Bang.” How do you explain everything? What came before? Black infinity. Darkness.
“Since events before the Big Bang have no observational consequences, one may as well cut them out of the theory, and say that time began at the Big Bang.”
That’s 13.8 billion years. Just as expansion accelerates, the years go by faster every day. I’ve experienced some of them. One feels longer than it is. Multiply them by a lot and get, if not grasp, the big picture. It doesn’t seem endless this way! Life is longer than it feels, however. Hours of ours. They definitely add up. One by one. “Tomorrow is another day.”
Nowadays, the dust has settled and the must at these festivals is unsettling. Yet EDM does possess fairly rich history. “Started from the bottom now we’re here.” Calling the music “EDM” seems antediluvian. Originating before the immense flood of innovative redundancy, Leibniz and Newton basically contrived calculus in simultaneity. If you come up with something, it’s new. Regardless of how old it is, you did it. There is glory to be shared in a man’s achievements.
We were all there. Even if something is attributed to a guy or gal, it was born of universal circumstance. So any time you miss something, you should keep feeling like it’s your contribution, if not immediate doing. You were there every step of the way, no matter how many steps away. NOMOFOMO. Right? It’s all planned, not unlike sundry DJ playlists. All told, you might be late to the party if your material is played by someone else.
Good thing it’s not calculus.
As such, calling music “EDM” is familiar. It sounds just like elderly saying “whippersnapper.” Loud, ephemeral, unknown. Somewhat young. Frankly, whippersnapper is not a bad idea for a subgenre or maybe even a DJ. Truth. I mean, everything is out there. Including “vomitstep,” which I enjoy. Backstreet’s back, alright. Don’t omit that “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” was nominated for Best Electronic Dance Music Video at the 1996 VMAs.
Somebody threw a can of beer in front of my sneakers. I suppose it was partly full because one guy on my left picked it up and drank. He obviously has nothing to worry about; he’s not worried. It’s that fear and fear itself schtick. Everybody is fond of central casting. I see girls in oversized neon glasses, nipple pasties, pastel crop tops, furry gogo boots, and every floral configuration imaginable. Several people seemed they were just fired from Cirque du Soleil.
For the guys, I just saw 90s batman logos everywhere. You had sunglasses during the night, with flat-brimmed, graffiti-printed baseball caps. Anybody reasonably fit got topless. Jumpsuit mau5. Tons of L.E.D. finger raves. As the day advanced, it manifested that the stereotypes are actually solid indicators of what the show is going to be like, in the same way you can listen through someone’s tracks on mp3 before they play those same files onstage. AIFF or WAV.
In unison, we’re like a well-oiled machine, PLURring along. And we do have that *one thing in common. Everybody experiences the entirety in concert. Live. We’re all there for the same reasons, if not the same pretenses. Consequently, we hope that maybe, just maybe, in tens of thousands of people, there is someone else who likes EDM. The *other thing, then: hope. Experiencing EDM is, in a few words, holistic, if not wholesome. We stick like butter. ICBINB!
It’s all about skintimacy. Let me tell you something about intimacy. A guy comes up to me, raising his beer. I offer to hold the can, but he autocorrects me like a dumb Padawan. Both our beverages contain cider. I am supposed to clink lips with him. In ebullience, my dude holds his phone up over our view. I presumed he would take a selfie with me, but he actually ended up showing me what he had achieved earlier in a porta-potty. It was like a mural.
You want to talk about community? That’s some connection right there. You can’t have much more in common with someone than using the restroom; at least, having to use it. Little is more common than your business. Animal. Human. Anyway, I felt better about the average crowd member. I also felt worse about the cider I was drinking. It was essentially finished, so there wasn’t much more to worry about. Things were going about as well as I might have expected.
I don’t know if I would go around getting up in your faces about getting up in your feces. Truthfully, I had few expectations in the first place. I’m never a negative Nancy, but restricting your engagement can temper the traditionally underwhelming. Once again, compromise. Several opinions: why did EZoo institute a proprietary currency? $20 = 9 EZ bucks. Honestly, I think they just wanted to make everything seem more affordable. It wasn’t.
In addition, EZoo offered fewer vendors on whom you dish. No big deal. In principal, my ambition had to do with enervating the culture. This is my first EDM festival. I actually attended The Governors Ball in early June. Gov Ball had a huge investment in food. I found incredible assortments of New York food trucks. Delicious. At Gov Ball, the venue expanded. Although they each happened on Randall’s Island, the latter was 1.5 times bigger.
Technically, my first festival was in 2007 on Randall’s. The event was called “Rock the Bells,” headlined by Wu-Tang and Rage Against the Machine. Understand this happened at the height of my rage. They played in my earbuds for long periods every night. Rage was all the rage. Furthermore, they had just gotten back together from a hiatus. Nobody thought they’d play. I didn’t wear any sunscreen all day. My face blistered impassionately. Good day for the night.
In terms of health, things in EZoo managed. I was doing all right initially, but then I started to think about the Legionnaires’ disease outbreak in the Bronx. After I digested that, I couldn’t pass it. I couldn’t get past it. In faces, the music, everywhere. In the air. “Can you feel it––in the air, in the air? Can you feel it? It’s everywhere.” Anybody remember that B-side? It’s from “The Macarena.” Good guess. I can’t figure out the details, but I definitely owned it. I own up to it.
I actually didn’t know anything about Legionnaires’ disease, yet it sounded serious. If a trained soldier could get it, I certainly wasn’t going to fight it off. In truth, I didn’t have anything to worry about, but if I learned one thing from this, it’s that you can worry about nothing. Its absence actually makes your concern all the more equivocal and, therefore, harder to vaccinate. Eventually, I kind of went with it, because nothing says turnt up like infectious disease.
The temperature, at least. I guess it would sort of be like finally getting herpes in college. You’d might as well play beer pong. The whole reason to play in the first place is to fit in, right? Well, now you’re on board the S.S. HSV-1 with 90% of the population. Now there’s something in common. It’s almost like a young adulthood initiation pledge, except you don’t know who your brothers and sisters are, though you can probably make a good guess.
Crisis of conscience averted. Gaze averted. Otherwise, it’s up for grabs. Everybody has to decide if they’re playing blushing roulette. I don’t mean spin the bottle, though I could. It’s anyone’s game. Anyway, 90 is pretty close to complete insofar as being another quality that exists at EZoo. You can almost round up. I think this is a conversation starter and ender. It’s not a nonstarter, but it isn’t unending.
I made the decision to round down, if not roundoff back handspring (#DJ?). EZoo is involved. Inevitably, the draining will hinge on the length and depth of your journey. Time or pupil dilation. After going through every day of Gov Ball, I realized exactly how many hours are in three. 72. It is one thing to understand something intellectually, but another thing entirely to embrace it emotionally. I think it’s important to be economical with emotional discharge.
Resonate. Numerous DJs incorporate segments full of emotional things. These attempts are often one-note or maybe a few more. Then again, there are only 88 keys on a piano and only 8 notes in an octave! 13 keys! Bad luck. I don’t see many alternatives. Unlike instrumental performances, however, EDM probably sounds the same each time you hear it. Therefore, it is much more important that you bring energy. Compassion. Brains. Heart. Courage.
These are the things you get from the Wizard. Inversely, performers try getting them out of you. I think they know this and, as a result, appreciate the effort. They probably wonder if the curtain is falling and whether it will be pulled out from under them. The major difference between other concerts and EDM festivals is at the latter you are more celebrated than the music. Naturally, they have other sections. I encountered numerous instances of fad fever.
Multiple sets included Nirvana and randomly dropping Sandstorm into the mix. Just the same, I listened to Dirty South mash a nasty combination of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Latch,” by Disclosure, which you can hear at 35:38. I’d also check out his ridiculous 4-hour set from Avalon on July 4th. Going for two days seemed reasonable because more is a lot of time and a lot of money. Moreover, time is money, so the expense is compounded.
Additionally, Made had to cancel Sunday in 2013 and 2014 because, allegedly, of drugs and weather-related incidents. After previous years, you’d think this one would be doomed or haunted or something. Anything could have gone wrong. Condense. Mollify the Molly. Shit happens, but only in a porta-potty. Conspiring difficulties cancelled each other out because each was trying so hard that they prevented each other from actualizing.
By far, the watershed moment for me was Galantis. It was watershed both in the sense that tears fell and hydration bled. Moreover, the arena was like a sauna or somebody’s intestines. The BO was fogging up my glasses. I’m unclear as to why they weren’t headlining given they were probably the most popular act of the weekend. They were certainly the hottest. Perhaps they booked early, late, or even made a special request. Whatever the reason, Hilltop suited them just fine. And finally.
The episode was like a giant rave. Quintessential in the vaguest. Everything in place. Power outage, “Seven Nation Army” salute, and a little “Calabria” action. Epic, though not EPIC. I got into Galantis over the summer, although I didn’t listen through Pharmacy. I loved “Runaway (U & I),” enjoyed “Peanut Butter Jelly,” and appreciated “Gold Dust.” Check out the Tiësto vs. Twoloud remix of “You.” The second half is especially good.
At some point during their set, I heard a song I didn’t recognize. Galantis? Somebody else? Shazam didn’t cut it, so I tried to commit lyrics. This isn’t easy when you don’t know them. Everybody seemed to be singing, so I figured it was out. Additionally, the music was probably an original. Most of the time, I find, DJs don’t play out charting vocal mixes except for themselves and their friends. That is, they play their own songs and those of their friends.
Everything I say relates to my perspective on the mainstream. I don’t think they want to be associated with someone else’s big hit. Their act should identify predominantly with their own music. By the end of the concert, however, it all sounds the same or you can’t hear it at all. You can really feel it, but I’m not sure that is what everybody means by ‘feeling the music.’ You can hear your eardrums. Not a good thing.
I face my friend, who is trying to say something like,
“I can hear my ear drums.”
“If you can’t hear me, I probably can’t hear you.”
“That makes sense.”
“I can hear my thoughts. I even hear my thoughts thinking.”
He sets a thumb on the Ajna chakra.
“I’ve never felt this before.”
Shellshock. That song. I couldn’t believe I never heard it considering how I peruse Beatport. I’m pretty sure it’ll be their next single, if not just hit. Should be. It’s a little better than “Runaway (U & I),” even though the pace slows. No further ado; I definitely recommend this song, “Firebird.” Very cheesy and colorful pop. If you’re not into that, you will not like this. Everybody was ecstatic. This is all the more appropriate because the mainstage resembled a phoenix.
(It did take a couple thousand words to recommend “Firebird,” but would you have preferred a thousand-word recommendation?)
It sounded great the first time. I couldn’t speak for the second time, so I listened more intently. Maybe the first time could. On a certain level, it’s good that the songs are identical. By this, I mean files you experience in the future did not alter inasmuch as shifting platforms. Maybe it’s easier to conjure memories of the original conditions. “Feels like the first time.” Just the same, you may see the new rendition featuring live sax accompaniment. I prefer this:
As for Galantis, my research demonstrated that their logo is actually not a cat. Instead, the animal is something called a “seafox.” I’m pretty sure that’s a cat with jellyfish on its face, but let’s not split hairs or whiskers. I’m fine with it because I never really liked cats in the first place. Furthermore, foxes are nice. I’m sure they’re feral, but pretty sweet. I mean they’re cool. We can also obtain a domesticated Siberian. You can teach the fox what it says. I love Star Fox, too.
You’ve gotta have some respect for these kittens, though:
Is this supposed to be what the fox thinks?
Otherwise, I could definitely do without the narration. Why does anybody talk like this? Apparently, intonation has much power over communication with innocent babies. Once anybody strips themselves of cynicism, they sound like they just inhaled a balloon coming down from the general anesthetic of WTE. Cüe Diplo and Skrillix. The “dolphin” effect could work wonders on parentese. You can hear it at 1:09:
In reverse, they might even get normal voices. Or Bieber.
Among the best things in life is life itself. (Nine if you’re a cat.) “But wait, there’s more!” They are often free, or, free of charge. Innocents. Yet babies get taxed. If they get their feet in the door (maybe a head, depending on orientation), all the rest is at their expense. Living isn’t free, it’s accountable. And freedom comes at a cost. At what cost?
“With cat-like tread,”
“ev’ry step with caution feeling, we will softly steal away.”
I’d like to hear a remix of that.
In terms of spirit animals, if not hoods, my feeling transformed. Much impressed. The main stage immersed everybody within the through lines; namely, thE Zoo emerged from the ashes of its fallen pedigree, transforming into something smaller, but more precise. On the other hand, some of the costumes and ornamentation looked like they came from Homecoming in my Junior Year of high school. Under the Sea, or, Atlantis, if generous. Distributed sparsely.
Dolphin Bieber is proud.
I like all EDM. I guess I don’t like bad EDM, but past a certain point it no longer counts as EDM. So I guess I do like all EDM. Take the culture at face value or prima facie. Much of this appeal has to do with music. On the other hand, a lot of people do like getting naked while bumping into each other. Ugly, if not uglies. It’s also drugs, but not entirely. Read this user manual, for instance. Whoever wrote that was definitely on or onto something.
“Silent be, it was the cat!“