In that sense, this festival was both the end and the beginning. A very loud and shiny bridge connecting two pillars together, as any New Year’s celebration does across the world. But the difference here is twofold:

Volume. Let’s not pretend contemporary electronic music isn’t indulgent. All you’re getting here are risers into drops into risers into drops into laying on the floor and taking it all in. It’s what the people want. Are the people wrong? 

The second is a vibe, or perhaps a theme? I haven’t seen anything like Countdown Fest. The sheer dedication to the premise of the “alien invasion NY event” was bewildering and aggressively vivid. Performers placed into the crowd as guerilla insurgents dressed like aliens with hazmat handlers scooting from point A to point B. You could mind your own business and not notice the group of robots dancing in synch with brain-bleeding sub-bass bumps. Everything here was meticulously planned for immersion: stages, decorations, actors, it was overwhelming.

It’s a double-edged sword though, at least to weird pretentious music journalists like me. The marketing for Countdown was cheesy and unappealing. I had no idea the extra mile Insomniac went by ensuring a safe and unique experience – at least not by promo alone. Like okay, your socials are run by a quirky alien that ~ †ålk$  L¥ke ‡h1s ~. That doesn’t interest me. What does make an impact are the noticeable details: quick turnovers, arts & crafts stations, theme park rides, superb audio, and there was even some dude giving out haircuts. 

But you’re not here to get a fade, you’re here to enshrine a core memory. There were four mainstages, in descending order of grandiosity: Mothership, Nebula, Area 51, and Twilight. Each employed a vague genre for most of the night. Area 51 was mostly for the wooks, with Jantsen and Ahee -esque acts. The mainstream favorites like Madeon, the Chainsmokers, and Zedd took over Mothership for two nights. Twilight and Nebula were mostly left with tech house and bro-step: JAUZ, Flosstradamus, Maya Jane Coles, and Habstrakt to name a few.

Deadmau5 was possibly my favorite. His visuals are gorgeous and the new Kx5 tracks are melodically wonderous. Even some of Joel’s oldest tracks still hit: “Maths,” “Ghosts,”
“Cthulu Sleeps,” it’s difficult to make a “timeless” electronic song and this dude went and made twenty. “When the Summer Dies” is such a good song, utilizing Lights’ properly Mau5’d vocals paired with the kinetic typography in the background. Perfection.

Minnesota is still a really underrated DJ but his people were waiting for him at Area 51. He played a particularly enticing Ludacris/G Jones remix, in addition to his standard armaments “Devour” and the IDHS remix of “Confusion”. Nothing too out of the ordinary with his brothers-in-amps: Virtual Riot carried that torch until the end of the night, the same flame lit by Saka hours earlier. 

The latter has blown up in 2022 and his growth has been nothing short of inspiring. It really makes you have faith in the process that truly unique music floats up in time and after seeing him at Lightning in a Bottle last year, I have only excitement in seeing Saka’s next move.

We were welcomed to Nebula stage by the very subtly named Good Times Ahead, a DJ duo comprised of, you guessed it, two men in their late twenties wearing necklaces. Albeit crass, I quite enjoyed their “Legend of Zelda” remix as did the rest of the audience. ARMNHMR plowed the stage thereafter although I quite preferred Yellow Claw’s energy to theirs. It’s a lopsided comparison. the Claw have been in the game for about a decade with their over-compressed festival anthems, directly from the crystal springs of Holland. Los Amsterdam has aged surprisingly well if you’re a hedonist, because tracks like “Hold On To Me” (featuring our aforementioned Good Times Ahead) and the transient-laced “Open” are formidable in 2023. On the flip side, ARMNHMR’s mixing didn’t impress me much for someone who didn’t know them. They also lacked aliens with ray guns dancing on stage so, I mean, come on now. 

Speaking of Amsterdam’s finest, jump over to our Mau P interview we published last week to get some more insight on the outlook of one of 22’s biggest DJs. He opened for Jason Ross and Deadmau5 on the Mothership stage; threw his trademark techno bop “Drugs in Amsterdam” like ninja stars during a Californian sunset.

Galantis’ set was a feature film. I really didn’t care for the music until going through the live experience. He played a three-song sequence that completely banished me into the shadow realm: “Seven Nation Army” (White Stripes) into “Chicken Soup” (Habstrakt) into “Robot Rock” (Daft Punk). The audacity. Visuals were mid but I was still in awe of the mainstage by that point: ribbons of massive speakers, tantalizing strobes for what felt like a kilometer backward. A particle, moving in rhythm with other happy particles, in a hanger the size of Star Wars carriers. 

If Galantis was a movie Zhu was the romantic evening surrounding it. He was the last act of the night on the Mothership and began the set with a low-key ambient movement. It was closer to 2 am at that point, so naturally, most of the townsfolk were waning away. The intro was soft and slow, gorgeous and cryptic – until it wasn’t. Dropping thereafter a rhythm so energizing I think my phone battery boosted by +3%. You don’t need me to tell you he played “Cocaine Model” although I like to think it was because of the girl holding up the sign: “ALEXA Play Cocaine Model by ZHU”. We’ve come a long way from the time he was that anonymous, hooded, night-sky DJ. I mean, we haven’t, but it feels like we have.

What I haven’t mentioned yet is the rain. Massive respect for Insomniac for keeping everything safe yet exciting in the face of the sky’s retribution. The torrent was manageable on day one but New Year’s proper was a true deluge. It felt less like a music festival than it did a water gym in Pokémon, with bass rumbles instead of boss battle music. And yet the rides were still operational. The stages were sequestered, the artists were dry, while the festival enthusiasts were huddled but raging appropriately. Genuinely it is impressive how they kept operations running in the midst of this, with the number of anomalies that come with the production and facilitation of a music festival. The trust I have in safety at music festivals certainly wavers, but Insomniac leveled up this weekend. 

And so 2023 inaugurates. With it comes a plethora of great music we haven’t heard yet, the anticipation of which is spent with jams we already love. Countdown was probably the most memorable NY event I’ve personally ever been to. If not because of the bass music, then because of the production and design. If not that, then because of the rain. I never realized a music festival could be this immersive – yes Tomorrowland has the stage architecture, EDC has the flamboyancy, and Coachella has… a Ferris wheel – but these aren’t immersive. These festivals don’t have side quests or NPCs or actors in the crowd fueling immersion. It’s difficult to comprehend the scope of it without attending especially when the marketing gimmick is an alien with broken English, but even that is thematically aligned. 

Amidst bass drops, melodic house arpeggios, the boons, croons, and all the drama that comes with delving into contemporary music culture, we here at Quip Mag hope you go forth this new year with the same astonishment that we reflexively vocalized when entering the NOS festival grounds on December 30^th 2022:

“Woah”

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The layout of the festival was tight both literally and figuratively because the event took up about half of the space when compared to other events that occupy the same space throughout the year. Heatwave used this intimate setting to its advantage as it filled every corner with fun activities. From beautiful art pieces and interactive installations for attendees to pose with to food and drinks stations just steps away from merchandise vendors. And then there were various VIP lounges with exclusive meals, drinks, and viewing areas that made upgrading tickets worth the extra spend.

The main attraction, of course, was the music, 3 stages were situated in close distance from each so fans did not have to spend too much time moving around. Frank Walker took over opening duties on The Inevitable stage, wasting no time he riled up the enthusiastic crowd. With fog and pyro that surrounded his set, he hypnotized the audience with a thrilling performance. Walker’s finale was epic as well – he remixed The Killers’ “Somebody Told Me” into Benny Benassi’s “Satisfaction” before ending the set with Daft Punk’s “One More Time”.

Borgeous took over after and played an interesting blend of heavy bass and dance beats fused with alternative rock throwbacks. Opening up with Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek”, he made the crowd sing along before cutting the track with a bass drop. Borgeous proceeded to play dance remixes of Papa Roach’s “Last Resort” and Linkin Park’s “In The End”, which was certainly different and got fans hyped up for his original track, “Breathe” [cover image].

Over at the Radiance stage, Westend was laying down some groovy tunes along the line of more traditional house sound, which of course, the Chicago crowd greatly appreciated. Rome Is Silver was cool too, offering a more European techno blend with Middle Eastern lyrics.

Galantis had a wonderful set filled with hit songs spanning every genre. The electronic duo opened up with their hit song “Runaway (U & I)” which got the crowd jumping. They revved up the party by mixing LeRoux’s “Bulletproof” into Madonna’s “Hung Up” which of course kept people dancing. The duo changed up the genres with White Stripes “7 Nation Army” and Eminems “Without Me” before taking it back to old school with Quad City DJ’s “C’Mon ‘N Ride It (The Train), and Fun’s “We Are Young.” Galantis ended their set by playing “Runaway” one last time accompanied by blazing lights that lit up the cloudy sky. 

The honors to wrap up the finale naturally went to Tiësto. It was a perfect ending. His set contained his old and new school music along with tracks that made him famous like “Adagio for Strings” and “Secrets”. His old-school techno brought back a lot of nostalgia for fans of the 2013 era, when EDM was still relatively less popular. It was great seeing a pioneer of the genre still in the game and evolving his style to adapt to the current culture while keeping to his distinct sound. With fireworks and visuals, the showcase was worthy of an icon. 

Heatwave Music Festival came in as an underdog going against heavy competition but after the joyous celebration took place over the weekend, the festival easily rose to the top of Chicago’s long list of events. It was the perfect blend of showcasing up-and-comers along with big-name stars.

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Scott Wilson: Have you guys gotten to explore Chicago at all?

Christian Karlsson: We’ve been here a lot before and we love this city. In America, there are only a few cities built more European — this is one of them, so it’s easier to grasp.

Linus Eklöw: We’re not big on driving, so this city fits us well.

SW: Is it hard to focus on your music when you’re also doing all of these big stage shows and stuff like that?  

LE: Um, a little bit; but we’re also away from home all the time, so it’s good to, you know, go and create and only focus on the songs and spend [sic] all of the energy, even if it’s only for an hour, and you’re always thinking about music.

CK: Even when we’re sitting on airplanes. Whenever we want, we start talking about and making new shit.

SW: What do you need in order to be creative — is there any sort of ritual? Is there any sort of item you need? 

LE: Not any longer; I worked on myself to lose that. I had different hang-ups I needed to be able to create. Slowly, I worked towards being able to just use a laptop, ‘cause for a long time when people were doing it, I was like, “they need a studio,” ‘cause that’s what I was used to. But now I’m fine, basically. I only need a laptop.

SW: Do you think that’s a side effect of traveling all the time?  

CK: It’s knowing your own music and believing your own ideas. Basically, you know, I don’t need to play it loud to myself; I hear it well. You basically write a song the way you’d like it to be and then go into the studio and put it together.

SW: You guys learned music analog on regular instruments, and then within the last 10-15 years, you switched to computers — and now you’re entirely computerized. Do you think that having a background in analog music has helped you?

LE: Definitely, definitely! It allowed for a lot of possibilities. We will always know we are basically one foot in the old, one foot in the new; we like to be there, we love both, we love just sitting with a piano checking out new plug-ins. Just really love both.

SW: How much of your analog work gets recorded and computerized after?

CK: Sometimes we go only analog, [where] it’s all about what’s in front of us, whatever is in the studio. We might just focus on one synth and record and do everything and check later.

LE: We’re always recording in weird environments and stuff. We have a really beautiful studio on an island in Sweden, so it’s kind of delightful to record stuff out there.

SW: In the winter, do you get frosted over and stuck in the studio with nothing but canned yams and icebergs? 

LE: [Laughter] We have these big icebreaker boats, actually. Ice creates amazing sound when it’s all frozen and these icebreakers, like cruise ships, go through and essentially break the ice. It’s just like outside the window — they come and it’s pitch black — you don’t hear or see anything, and all of a sudden this huge monster of a ship cracks the ice and it’s like this music is coming through [imitates the noise of the machine]. Then it’s pitch black again and just open water.

SW: That’s so cool. 

LE: It’s fucking crazy.

CK: And add the Northern Lights on top of that.

SW: One last question: what’s the most awkward moment you felt on tour? Has there ever been a place you showed up and were like, “what am I doing here?” 

CK: Yeah, in the UK, at the library in the daytime. It was so awkward and wrong that it was actually fun. People were actually studying and shit, and I was like, this is so not happening. Then I turn around and there is this girl outside, I guess she was a fan, and then she’s flashing me! I, like, look over and she has them hanging out against the glass!

SW: Well, that ended it strong. Thank you so much!

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When in the herd, people don’t think about themselves. This is how raves are able to function: everybody is moving as one. People get in a flow where all they think about is grooving and listening; a good DJ’s job is to help an audience reach this stage and stay there. Alison Wonderland’s style doesn’t sound like it would work for that, from a distance. She talks to the crowd a lot from her perch atop a tower of speakers, and sometimes she talks to herself, but the microphone is set louder than the music. However, it actually blends well, for what she does. The occasional breaks in the music for her voice, usually at a yell or a scream, gives the audience something to react to. It’s like a Basquiat painting, in that the underlying image can be beautiful, but then there’s some huge imperfection, like a bright orange smear, and it somehow makes the work look better.

Midwesterners know that when the weather is ruthlessly hot, that means it’ll soon be punishingly wet. The rain comes in at about 3 p.m., and the Lollapalooza Commanders issue a weather warning that means the park has to be emptied, so the people can seek shelter. Where will a hundred thousand people all seek shelter at once? Who knows? The logic is that people will have better luck not getting picked up by a tornado or struck by lightning on the streets of downtown Chicago than in Grant Park. Whatever. The rain isn’t that bad and after it lets up the whole mess of people file right back in to see the Galantis show, pushed back to four on account of the drizzle, which the two Northern Europeans would consider a nice day.

Most people returned, that is. Some poor, sorry music reviewers came down with a headache and couldn’t go on. Lollapalooza is a long, hot, three-day noise fest and a person has to plan accordingly by taking breaks and drinking lots of water. Following the excitement and not instincts is a bad idea if someone wants to last the whole festival. Let my cautionary tale be a lesson to the masses: don’t get old, stay young forever; don’t just visit Lollapalooza, be Lollapalooza.

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With just two streets to wander about, it’s not a flurry-fuck for visitors to know where things are. In fact, compared to the arbitrary spread of stages in the giant grounds that most festivals are on, this is a welcome turn of events. It’s also a great way for people familiar with Williamsburg to become especially intimate with these two popular streets, and the unique world of each of BEMF’s eight venues. This area used to be all warehouses, and each of the venues has kept (and exploited) their exposed brick foundations.

The musical offerings are wide. The promoters aim to have something to please everyone—retired raver, hipster on the lookout for unique ways to fiddle with music, scene kids—and they definitely succeeded. For festivalgoers, the trick to enjoying BEMF seems to be finding the venue that carries your kind of music. More experimental house and trance could be found at Villain and Glasslands. Party boy (and girl) music was at Verboten and Music Hall of Williamsburg. Kinfolk and Cameo Gallery held more “chill out” music.

The audience is distinct at each venue as well. Glasslands seemed to be home to the burn-outs. Verboten welcomed the pushy dance kids. Cameo and Villain encouraged retired ravers, current professionals with J Crew shoes and 350 dollar skirts; at Cameo, they drank neat scotch and Villain, they had PBRs. Music Hall of Williamsburg had kids asking adults to buy them alcohol (and during an interview with Chris Malinchak, this is exactly what happened). Some places had 70 per cent men, others had close to 90 per cent men.

Each venue is its own separate world, and the chance to step into whichever one you please is the real treat of BEMF.

Villain. If you want innovation (which tends to make the most exciting music) Villain had your back. Usual early acts are politely ignored, but Deru 1979 (stage name of Benjamin Wynn; joined by Effix) was a welcome exception. With a BA in Music Technology, Wynn is one of the more learned DJs at BEMF. He combined classical, hip-hop, electronic and world music to capture the audience with visuals and audio. The two DJs played in the middle of two screens. They played slow action shots of NYC that interacted with music waves, the kind you’d see in physics class. The scenes interacted with themselves and the music, creating an impressive visual display that was all too rare at BEMF. It’s a shame more people didn’t turn out (though it was early for the raver world—he went on at 8 PM). But the 30 or so people who made it were completely mesmerised.

Saturday night’s highlight was Lee Bannon. The Sacramento DJ’s debut album, Alternate/Endings was a beautiful house base punctuated with thoughtful elements of trance. At times, the percussive elements were mind-blowing. Saturday night it held some of the best music and the best-looking yuppies you can imagine, all armed with a PBR and designer leather boots. Bannon’s only downside to the live performance is that he basically ignored the audience, rarely looking up and never changing tempos to accommodate the few brave dancers who burst into the middle on occasion. This self-reservation is common to a lot of DJs, but when you’re performing, and people pay 20-25 dollars, it seems like you should put on a show—to quench the bar chatter if for no other reason.

Output. Whereas Villain, with its small stature, greatly exceeded expectations, Output, one of Brooklyn’s top dance clubs, was a big disappointment. NYC DJ, Cranks, performed in the Panther Room. It’s a pity this solid musician had little opportunity for a worthwhile audience. Some 10-15 people sat along the room’s perimeter, in the shadows, nodding their head. The walls of Output are not the friendliest. It’s the only venue that doesn’t allow photos (a mantra various signs chant as you walk through the building), and a four-dollar coat check is required; water is five dollars. The cover to see this local musician is 20 dollars. To call this ridiculously overpriced is generous. For some reason this was the same price to see more established acts like Todd Edwards and Route 94, acts that probably deserved a less sleazy venue.

Verboten. Along with Deru 1979, The Renegades of Rhythm (Cut Chemist and DJ Shadow) were one of the few to complement their impressive performance with a greater dizzying display of graphics. Queen, James Brown, Lipps Inc were all smashed together into a happy-go-lucky mix. Hip-hop was, of course, a cornerstone, with plenty of shout-outs to Afrika Bambaataa. “She’s still going strong!” DJ Shadow said of a 1987 percussion machine featured throughout the act.

The only downside to their performance was the venue. With a popular event like this, sliding in was basically impossible to see either DJ. It’s ironic that BEMF gave some of their most accomplished musicians so little space to for the audience to enjoy their music. It was somewhat a mystery that the venue charged $55 to see “The Renegades of Rhythm” when they played at Irving Plaza days before for $35. True to New York’s seedier side, the venue seemed to want to make more money than keep its patrons safe or happy.

Cameo Gallery. If you can grab a spot, the Boiler Room Production is everything it’s cracked up to be.  Whereas Glasslands and Villain were high mountains, Cameo was heaven. DJ Scotto controlled the lighting and contributed a memorable set before Love & Logic came on at 1 AM. DJ Frankie Bones brought an energetic set complemented by a beautiful light design.

The audience had the posh hipsters expected at a Boiler Room broadcast. But it also had its share of ravers who refused to retire or dance calmly. One came for the name, and one came for the music; it was lively to see the dichotomous groups squished together under one roof.

Surprisingly, the next night, Cameo was drained of all energy. DJ Dave P had great chill-out music, but it didn’t justify a live performance. The music transitioned without him as he spent a good midnight opening up a vodka bottle. Cameo was beautiful while it lasted.

Glasslands has a history of ADHD crowds. 70 per cent of the audience didn’t face the stage, instead talking about God knows what. Two tall men at the front of the stage spent the entire concert acting like bouncers as they cast their eyes across the audience. Pinch (Rob Ellis) was just as oblivious toward the audience as they were to him. He leaned over his three sets of turntables, grazing them like a fascinated archaeologist brushing away dust on the way to his find.

Music Hall of Williamsburg. BEMF’s largest venue understandably held some of the bigger acts. Galantis played Friday night, and with their ever-fun music, delivered to the people what they paid for.

Shift k3Y and Billon were basically interchangeable: Under the legal drinking age, DJs with a dependency on their MacBooks and still in the shadow of Daft Punk. Though generic, they did their job at increasing heartbeats before one of the night’s headliners, pop artist Little Boots. By the time an agonizing set up was complete, 30 minutes had passed since her scheduled time, and neither the setup nor the extended wait could justify the performance. Though her songs are as well written and catchy as those she’s often compared to (Ladyhawk, Robyn) she is not as strong a vocalist live. That, and a festival where lyrics aren’t expected to exist, made the performance lacklustre.

By ways of conclusion. While more DJs should engage with the audience to justify a live performance, most don’t (with the exception of Gaslamp Killer, Galantis, and Cut Chemist/DJ Shadow). Unless they have some visual show, most of the time you are getting a ticket to a curated club night.

If you plan to see three or more acts, festival passes proved to be the way to go. Tickets to individual events were anywhere from 20 to 55 dollars. Unless you’re a trust fund baby, it isn’t worth seeing most of these DJs live for that much money; unless you get a pass.

BEMF is a great way to become part of the city. This string of former warehouses forms a sort of dance district. The venues, all small to medium-sized, are perfect for electronic music.  More people will undoubtedly hop on board in the coming years.

Image, Boiler Room set,  courtesy of Brooklyn Electronic Music Festival

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