Electronic pandemonium on Miami Beach this past Friday night (5/6). Walking into the Fillmore was like stepping out of reality and into a bizarre world of spastic rhythms, bass sweeps and general sensory overload.
It was the second installment of the Honeymoon series, an all-ages electronic music event bringing big names in dubstep and IDM to Miami. The previous Honeymoon event, featuring Datsik, drew some a huge crowd. Friday night’s event featuring Juan Basshead, Caligula and Canadian dubstep duo Zeds Dead topped Datsik, pulling a massive crush into the depths of the Fillmore.
You could hear the mind-numbing bass as soon as you stepped into the lobby. A cup filled with foam earplugs sat undisturbed on a table by the door. The main room was a psychedelic mess of light and sound. Caligula was throwing down for a crush of candy-colored folks up against the stage. Machines on trusses spun wildly, belching light in pulses across the sea of sweaty ravers and glowsticks.
By the time Zeds Dead took the stage, the rave was frenzied. The sexual energy was so tangible you could almost reach out and touch it. Young women ran around wearing little more than tiny tube-tops and torn fishnet stockings. They were getting down with shirtless guys in sunglasses, grinding and groping and necking… Even outside where folks went for a breather there were puddles of people kissing and caressing.
The bass flowed like old motor oil in deep, thick sweeps, womping across the spun masses crowding the dance floor as Zeds Dead jammed their schizophrenic remixes of Sublime and Radiohead.
The atmosphere was that of reckless overindulgence, from the seizure inducing lights to the grossly overwhelming bass spilling out of the massive speaker system on the stage. It was dubstep. Filthy, grimy dubstep. And they loved every nasty bit of it.
The debauchery extended into the early morning hours, the DJ duo pushing through a spot of technical difficulties into a high-energy encore. When the show let out, throngs of sweaty, half naked folks clad in sunglasses, glow toys and neon-colored clothes spilled out onto the streets of Miami Beach. It was Ultra all over again.
Empty cans of Four Lokos and Mike’s Hard Lemonade littered the sidewalk by the Fillmore. Out by the street, a yellow school bus pulled up. A crowd of ragers gathered by the door and piled in, whooping and hollering. Where did they come from? More importantly, where the hell were they going? Who knows. I can tell you where they weren’t going, though.
They sure as hell weren’t going to sleep.