#7 __ the vibe
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“What’s he asking about?”
“He wants us to turn the TV off”
“Why?”
“He thinks it’s a ‘bad vibe’,” she says with a half-hearted motion towards air-quotes.
They both look at me with a smirk. Still, they acquiesce, and the relentless flicker of ESPN and car commercials goes dark.
The vocabulary of nightlife is so limited. I bet there’s a tremendous German word that precisely describes the invasive, distracting sensation that cable television brings to a room. But English has no such word. I can only describe it in terms of the vibe.
The vibe is the identity of the party, the culmination of all the ingredients — the music, the crowd, the venue, and the lights. When all of these elements are strong, the vibe is resilient. Less vulnerable to a few drunk assholes, some weak mixing from the DJ, or an awkward venue flow. The vibe synchronizes the crowd into a similar mode and mood, making movement, conversation or smiles (whatever the vibe is meant to inspire) flow readily. You can look around and see the vibe written on people’s faces, in their posture, in their movement (or lack thereof). In the greatest parties, the vibe is inescapable. It’s in the line of people waiting to get in, evidenced by bouncing knees and giddy conversations dripping with anticipation. It’s in the hallways sprinkled with couples chatting, leaning against the walls as they exchange flirtatious strokes of each other’s hips. It can even be in the bathrooms, where people take a moment to look at themselves in the mirror and laugh at the devastation of sweat and the inscrutable grime of the rave. Wherever you go, the spirit of the party hangs in the air: an aura of comfort, excitement, of stimulation and intrigue.
It’s rare that the vibe is ever so perfect and complete. But it’s an ideal worthy of pursuit.
This weekend gave me two stories to tell about vibes.
On Friday night, I found myself unusually torn about where to go. I was so eager to hear Etapp Kyle, and was in a mood to appreciate the quality of sound at Elsewhere. But I was also feeling intensely social. I wanted to interact with people. I looked back to my past reflections on Elsewhere, and decided I should trust myself. I knew I wouldn’t find the encounters I hoped for there. I headed out to Mood Ring, but decided on the way just to pop into Bossa for a bit, thinking I’d get my stamp then pop back over. Yet once again, there I stayed, because I had a incredible time from beginning to end. I found exactly what I was looking for: amazing new friends. I picked the perfect vibe for me, that night.
I used to worry that I would get bored of dancing after I’d seen all the venues in Brooklyn — but as it turns out, this familiarity has allowed me to select the kind of night I want to have for my moods, which can vary wildly. Picking the right vibe is half the battle. There is no universally good vibe; everyone has their own needs and desires. I suspect a lot of people are turned off to this scene because of mismatched vibes.
Sunday night at Odyssey was a very different story.
I went in expecting a proper warehouse party but was greeted with a pat-down by security, a television behind the bar as you walk in, a searingly bright incandescent light in the corner of the lounge, a bar right on the dance floor, and a bathroom attendant hawking gum and mouthwash. My initial impression was catastrophic: I hated this place. I could not imagine spending a whole night here. But I stuck it out for a while, concluding that if I stayed on the dance floor, this could be alright. I convinced them to turn the TV and the awful lounge light off. The music got good and soon I found myself dancing with a few lovely people. I focused on the music. More friends showed up, the crowd seemed alright, and I started finding my groove — hey, this could be working out.
I went to the lounge to take a break, found more friends, started chatting. Then — oh no — then the music became unfathomably bad. It was more than generic — it was utterly lifeless, washed out, devoid of intent or skill. I’ve heard dozens of bad opening or closing DJs, but at peak time? What was happening?
I have never seen a party crash so hard. Everywhere you looked — frowning faces, huge groups of friends sitting on the floor mumbling to each other, people pouring off the dance floor. This DJ hadn’t even been on for twenty minutes. The area around me became a support group for miserable ravers. We hugged each other and repeated the mantra: Tommy Four Seven is coming. He’ll be here soon. Right?
Out of raw, morbid curiosity, I left the lounge, took a trip through the dance floor. Nobody was moving. Giant clumps of smokers, dudes with a beer in one hand, a phone in the other. I wormed my way to the front just to witness this tragedy first hand. Where was the DJ? He wasn’t even there. Oh, okay, he was just hunting through his vinyl for…two straight minutes. I looked back on the miserable, stiff crowd: absolute devastation. The vibe was completely shattered.
Back in the lounge, some of my friends were starting to leave, and I wasn’t even going to try and stop them. Then the music paused for a moment. The first sound of synth rang through crisp and clear: proper mixing was at hand. Across the lounge, people sat up. Heads turned towards the speakers. The anticipation was palpable. The first thunder of bass crashed though — manna from heaven. The flow of people leaving the dance floor halted, then reversed.
The first half of Tommy Four Seven’s set was nothing but buildup — a steady cleansing flow of gradually increasing intensity. It felt like he was literally blasting away the filth that had built up over the last hour, a swift breeze carrying away the unnatural stagnation in the air. It was perfect, and once he was able to go all out, the party felt pure, ready for what he was meant to do.
Tommy Four Seven certainly rescued this party from the darkest of depths. But to me, this was a story about how fragile the vibe was in the first place; a testament to all the things this party did wrong. I still had a glorious time — but it was in spite of this party’s best efforts. I have more I want to write on this night, but I think I’ll leave the extra anecdotes for the group.
Thank you so much for reading.
Saturday I’ll be at Elsewhere for LA-4A, Liquid Asset, and Falseboi, which should be eclectic. Falseboi might spin anything, Liquid Asset is minimal, LA-4A has spun melodic techno and acid house in the past. I’m hoping for a great crowd since the lineup is all locals. Free before midnight with RSVP.
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