The room is almost empty when I arrive. The projections move slowly and catch the eye, sparse but impressive. The first DJ, Asha from the Ether collective, sets the mood for the evening. I sit down near the bar, enjoying the calm before the storm. Soon, the room is packed.
The illusions of spatial depth, generated by projections on the dome walls, constantly oscillate between immense intergalactic depth and claustrophobic intra-cellular oppression. If I had been slightly more sensitive to these drastic changes in spatial perception, my listening experience would certainly have been negatively affected. However, the visual programmers knew how to calibrate the intensity level so that a feeling of unity emanated from the audio-visual stimuli; a kind of general synesthesia of the energy deployed between sounds and rhythms, colors and shapes.
We move forward a few minutes before Marie Davidson takes the stage, squeezing into the enthusiastic crowd as best we can.
Marie-Davidson
As Marie Davidson takes the stage, my attention shifts to her DJ booth. The energy in the room changes instantly, and the already enthusiastic crowd becomes even more excited. Everyone is now facing forward, either out of attachment to the tradition of live concerts or in the hope of seeing the musician at work. From my position, just a few rows away from the stage, she is difficult to spot. Her set retains a certain similarity to her music, which is heavily influenced by sequencing, with a slightly kitsch aesthetic. Very Berlin in its approach, almost Cartesian in its construction. There is a nod to the minimalist beats of Kraftwerk, mixed with the electro-funk energy of Afrika Bambaataa.
After returning from a short ten-minute break, I noticed that the BPM had increased by 5 to 10 BPM. Marie was preparing for Wata Igarashi’s arrival. We moved forward to take a few pictures. Behind Marie, a young woman danced and gestured with fluid movements, carefully observing her shadow on the wall. She could have been a friend, a family member, or an actress hired to participate in the overall experience.
Wata Igarashi
I spot Igarashi standing to the right of the stage, a benevolent observer who seems interested in the projections and appreciates Marie’s performance. He is possibly the only person in the room whose body does not react to the music.
When Wata Igarashi arrives behind the turntables, we enter a world apart. He begins quietly, setting off sirens. Not metaphorically, but literally sirens like those heard before the arrival of a tsunami. They accelerate and pile up until they become an orchestra of toads. It is in the depths of this imaginary environment that Igarashi’s endless trance begins.
Deep kicks driving square rhythms punctuated by snares, which nevertheless expand into complex forms. Direct techno, yet imbued with a narrative mystery, suspended in drones detached from the rhythm.
It’s a fairly straightforward techno set, but with a mysterious element, a narrative that develops in the atmosphere of its drones, completely detached from the rhythm. The music and projections reach that higher level of intensity that the crowd has been waiting for. The projections are less frequently organic and take on a stroboscopic aspect that, once again, complements the music admirably. Noisy, repetitive textures remind me of Actress’s Shadow from Tartarus, hypnotizing and dislocating the soul from the body.
Time passes without us noticing; it’s 2:30 in the morning and suddenly my body sends me an astral text message: it’s time to go. I come back down to earth, into the cold of a well-deserved cigarette.
