Techno is ABSURD in LA
I went to my first techno party in Los Angeles on Saturday night. I found out about the show from a Droid Behavior mailing list, whose name I now understand because all day Sunday I was on straight droid behavoir, walking around my apartment like a robot, barely able to move my legs, feet stiff, eyes slit-eyed to any bright light, talking to myself in grunts and grugs through a metallic taste in my mouth.
That’s what happens when you dance all night to slamming techno at an underground party in a packed warehouse. These are the nights I live for.
I arrived at the secret location just after 11PM, coming from the 2009 Brazilian Carnival where I had been doing some press work (taking photos of bead-covered butt cheeks and making mental notes about marimbas) and was one of the early birds there. I am used to being the nerd of the club scene who shows up at 10PM and hits the dance floor; hello, my name is Shilo.
Now the Droid Behavior email lists about twenty parties a week which I would love to go to if my meager freelance salary allowed it; alas I must pick and choose. A friend of mine from Seattle sent an order that I HAD to go to this one, that Absurd set the bar for underground warehouse parties, they always had killer sound, and that their parties had become a blueprint for what crews like Droid Behavior and Deeper Moods became known for doing.
I usually hate being told what to do unless the command ends with “party,” so I went to see what $20 would get me, and it turned out to be hours and hours and hours of dancing, thank God. A deal any day (or every day!) of the week. Thank you, Absurd.
The party was in this random warehousey area of LA that I have already been to a couple of times for dubstep shows, and this one was expertly run with a big van blocking the entrance, attended port-o-potty line, and drink tickets sold at the front entrance.
Alex Villalobos started things off and in about an hour the place was pretty packed; by the time Todd Bodine went one I was well into my hazy-brain dance mode and you guys are only getting this pathetic little review out of me. I will say that I spent a lot of Todd’s right set in front of the speaker screaming “more” with my hands held out like a little begging child. When I journey into dance mode my verbal skills fail and I find myself only being able to say one of two words: “yeah” or “more.” Evil Eddie Richards came on to clean up however and I put my outstretched hands back up in the air, and by 6AM I was freaking exhausted. My Converse were covered in some weird black-tar warehouse sludge, a combination of what I could only assume was spilled Tecate, sweat, and a creamy mix of techno and house.
So I admit it: sometimes, some house and techno don’t quite do it for me. The DJs don’t give me enough up and downs, and the beats keep me hanging on the edge of cliff for a bit too long and I lose interest. I want the beats crammed in my brain while it is racing to make sense of them, I want my body to move on it’s own without even knowing why. I want too much bass. I want crazy changes and random mixes and freaked out sounds; I want to have to create new dance moves to keep up with what is thrown at me.
That said, I had more fun dancing at this party than many people have their whole lives, and I don’t think seven straight hours of dancing constitute a failure in any way. Not every genre is everyone’s cup of vodka and soda, and as my readers know I prefer the extreme bass sounds of midtempo/crunkface ADHD music/make up your own term than anything else. After all, I am a woman of extremes.
Sorry kids no pictures! I either had to dance with a camera in my pocket all night which or worry about a bag getting stolen, both which cramp the style. This was my first techno party but it will not be the last- stay tuned for future adventures of Shilo as she seeks high and low for the sounds that inspire and the beats that won’t take no for an answer.