#3 __ the bass party

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to show up to someone else’s family barbecue? Maybe you smell something good from the sidewalk, follow your nose into a backyard, eat some ribs, meet someone’s weird uncles, their cool cousins, the cranky grandparents? That’s kinda what reconstrvct felt like, starting out.

Through scouring various facebook pages and the digital ruins of past events, I learned that this was an older party, going back at least 5 years. But this was the first one in 2 years, so there was a palpable anticipation hanging in the air. I arrived early, as usual, watching big groups of friends arriving, greeting each other with the kinds of shouts and laughter that only come with a long time spent apart. The crowd was mostly American and a little more white than what I’ve grown accustomed to in the techno and house scene. The vibe was sorta lightweight punk or indie rock — lots of black t-shirts and ripped jeans, but no chains or leather. The atmosphere was social, but I was clearly one of the few people that came alone.

The venue was two stories underground, a dusty concrete cavern with three long rectangular rooms running parallel to each other. The first room was the bar and rest area, sprinkled with couches and and straw pillows, and a little shop selling t-shirts and branded reconstrvct lighters. A single passageway connected to the dance floor, lit by static red and blue accent lights around the perimeter of the room. No fog machines, no spotlights or lasers, just concrete and stacks of speakers at each end of the room. Several archways connected to a side-tunnel, where a projector pointed to the end of the tunnel at a brick wall, playing wireframe visualizations on a 2-minute loop. At the opposite end of the tunnel, a small stack of subs added echoes of the low-end from the main room, making this a great spot for hanging out with a different vibe from the bar area. I was initially nervous being this far underground — would it feel claustrophobic or dangerous? — but heavy-duty air conditioning kept the air feeling fresh. At a few spots there were vents blasting out cold air, creating cute little congregation points for sweaty dancers in the rest areas.

The quality of the sound system here was gorgeous — each thunderous bump of the bass filled the whole space, your whole body, without feeling like it was assaulting your ears. It was rich and pure, and it felt good just to stop and absorb it at times. My best guess going in was that this was a drum-and-bass party. In fact, this was a bass party. The soundscapes were simpler, less complex than what I’m used to with techno and house — devoid of much synth or melody. The focus in this music is the rhythms. which were highly varied with a lot of syncopation, repeated ebbs and flows in intensity. As the night went on, the music went from more liquid or deep soundscapes into higher BPMs and faster pacing with breakbeats, jungle, and occasionally some classic DnB.

It did take a long time to get started; I was quite bored at the beginning, but my gut told me it would pick up after a while. By 1am my patience had paid off and I was deep in my best kind of flow. The kind I’ve only found a handful of times in the last year. It’s so hard to describe the kind of euphoria I get from this state. Still, I have to try.

It begins with this kind of rolling anticipation. When I start to trust the DJ — I mean really trust them, that they’re going to deliver the promise that each buildup is making — I develop a set of movements that are less dancing and more like building momentum for whatever’s about to come next. Then, when the next breakdown comes, I can fully commit to it and do my best to illustrate the sound with my body. That’s a huge part of dancing for me, is finding movements, patterns, shapes, and silhouettes that are appropriate to the tone and rhythm of the music. I’ve learned that I can enjoy nearly any genre of dance music if I can figure out the right way to dance to it.

With each consecutive breakdown, my movements get more drastic, which usually means I’ve started clearing out a big space on the dance floor to myself and I can really start experimenting. After a few cycles I start discovering new movements and patterns I’ve never tried before, and if I’m doing well, I have a few spectators egging me on. I got a particularly gratifying “WHOA” this night after one movement, and a single comment like that means the world to me, propelling me even further into this flow.

That’s when I really lose myself. There’s just nothing but the music in my body, a fuckload of sweat, and it lasts until I’m completely, utterly out of breath. I’ve never pushed my body harder than in these moments. It’s this nexus of so many experiences — the satisfaction of proper physical exertion, the joy of creative expression, a bit of gratifying showmanship, and of course, immersion into a beautiful audio-visual waterfall. All at once.

After a session like that, it feels so effortless to be at the party. Water tastes heavenly. I can rest for a long time and feel like I’ve earned it. I find myself chatting up anyone and everyone nearby. I met a few of the regulars, one of whom was mourning the old days of the party when it used to just be “deep dubstep”, that he didn’t like this techno stuff as much. I almost corrected him — because this was certainly not techno — but I decided I wouldn’t be that kind of asshole. I met another girl who confided that she was tempted to take her shirt off, that this seemed like “it could even be that kind of party” and I had a little laugh because that would be unquestionably okay at a proper techno party. I am eternally grateful for the many safe spaces in the underground techno scene.

Perhaps most importantly, my favorite DJ, Akua, recognized me and said hello. Turns out this scene is where she got her start, so I’m starting to piece together some of the elements I appreciate most in dance music. Even when I go to a party expecting not to know anybody, I still run into people I know. I’m just glad people recognize me, because I can’t identify anybody in these dark environments without my glasses on.

I stayed until a little after 5am. They ran out of matte and there was no way I could go further without some caffeine. I also got a little nervous about my tinnitus (which has been fine, actually! whew), and I was getting tired of the cigarettes. People loved their cigarettes at this party, which I don’t generally mind, but lately makes it a lot harder for me since I’ve been dealing with sinus issues.

What a great fucking party. I’m so glad I took the risk and branched out. Every time I do, I learn so much.

Thank you so much for reading.

I’m sick again. AGAIN. So it’s not clear whether I’ll be going out this weekend. If I do, Friday will be at Nowadays for Aurora Halal and Rrose. Acid techno with some hynpotic elements and maybe even something more abstract from Rrose. $10 before midnight with RSVP.

Previous issues

• more than just music
• art of the promo
• launch

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