Two painted concrete pillars flank the decks at H0L0, a sprawling basement event-space-cum-club (I mean that in the literary way, it’s not a cum club OK?). Each is covered in shitty graffiti. Farther towards the back wall, away from the left pillar I’m swaying to a downtempo, dubbed-out mix. Amelia Holt, the current DJ and organizer of this party (Honeytrap), smoothly layers on some Wu-Tang. The older man to my right nods, tips his plastic cup towards the decks.
SOUNDS OF: 5PM IN THE CLUB, INSIDE MY BAG
The 10-15 person crowd consists mostly of the organizers’ friends; I am not one of them. A new player spawns through the door every 10 minutes or so. They smile and hug and dap each other up. I stand in the back feeling a bit out of place. It’s 5PM on a Sunday, everyone’s favorite time to hit The Club.
Trying to find something to occupy my eyes, I scan the pillar directly in front of me. The top reads: “Techno first, house is just dessert”. Someone approaches and takes a photo of it. At the bottom, scrawled in similar handwriting: “Engage in tension BUT don’t indulge drama.” Engage in tension, don’t indulge drama.
I go back to feeling a bit awkward. A lone raver materializes in front of me: “Have you been to Sustain?”
“(I think he means Sustain/Release, a party in the woods) I haven’t, I know of it, why have you?”
“Well, yeah, this sound works there…you know, in the woods with 300 people…I’m falling asleep.”
I’m enjoying myself so I just smile and hope that the conversation ends there. It does. Engage in tension, don’t indulge drama. Yeah, maybe there’s something there.
The Tension of Expectation: What The Club is, presently, in this moment, and what you think that an experience at The Club should be. (see, Lone Raver 1’s expectation of faster music).
The Tension of Solitude: How to relate to strangers in a large, loud room and do I actually want to relate to them in this moment.
The Tension of Sound: See: hi-pass filters, low cuts, empty space, a botched mix.
The spawn-rate increases, Amelia leaves the deck; Second Contact takes over. My swaying turns to stepping. A few stank-faces ripple through the now 50 person crowd. I take off my sweatshirt and bag. I stuff them both behind the subs. This is a habit I’ve grown comfortable with, though may one day regret (I keep an AirTag in my bag JIC). I sweat a bit, my hips relax. I think about how long I’ll stay and whether my friend might come join me.
I’m sharing a spliff with Ludovica (lighters are your fastest way to new friends) then this…(see 0:53 seconds)
IS DUBSTEP BACK? (SOMEONE PLEASE ID THIS, THX)
A Chesire grin spreads across my face. What I came for: joy that cannot be suppressed.
The clock inches closer to 9PM. The realities of an early work day surface. I grab my sweatshirt, give my Clubfriends a nod and head out the side door.
The air is cool and damp. A car honks as I distractedly cross the street. Maybe I am kinda stoned.
Halsey L to G, some playlist re-organizing en-route and I’m back at home with Andrés. I swap into sweatpants.
Released.
There is much pain in the world but not in The Club.
Engage in tension.
Don’t indulge drama.