Ravin’ at a Rave

I’m at Segarra, Ancol at a Hed Kandi event. It seems to think of itself as a rave. Of course, since the mention of a rave brings forth images of people dancing in abandon in varying degrees of intoxication, this most definitely ain’t it. I’m standing in the middle of the slightly grassy dance floor surrounded by barely-legal looking boys and girls who look like they’d be unable to get into a legitimate club otherwise and are therefore out in full vengeance. And by that I mean standing around chatting and giggling in small circles and staring at the DJ while randomly shouting gleefully and ‘dancing’, which mostly include random, awkward, and mostly off-beat movements.

Have I mentioned that it’s hot? As in humid. Apparently the organiser doesn’t see the necessity of having mist machines or at least giant fans in windless Ancol. Genius, I know. The occasional sea breeze feels like a blessing from the Gods: sparsely given and taken away much too quickly. I have to admit that this heat may have contributed to my excessive bitchiness. Well, either that or the absence of any mind – and mood – altering substance from my bloodstream, especially considering the only beverage worth ordering and drinking is beer, since other choices are overpriced watered down cocktails.

In all fairness, though, I have to concede that they’re playing decent dance music. No complaints in that department. Well, maybe just one. The beat is neither stable or elevating. Definitely no Calvin Harris, who up til now still holds a dear, dear place in my partyboy heart. However, right now a black girl in a cute print one shoulder baby doll is singing on stage who is supposed to be the main attraction. And she’s doing it well. She seems to be doing the job of motivating the crowd into appreciative applause and more gleeful yelling.

That, I believe, is the highlight of this whole experience. Yet again, she’s gone too soon, replaced by a DJ spinning accompanied by decent laser show and a flashing LCD which would be awesome for trippers and LSD hallucinators but unfortunately undermined by the surrounding lights, which again the organiser doesn’t seem to feel the need to turn the hell off.

Anyway, I’m gonna stop now since my eyes are smarting from the sweat melting off my face. Yet I’m barely moving. Nor is the crowd jam packed. You do the math. I’ll gladly edit this later if this event somehow miraculously turns out to be more than the dud it appears to be but for now, I’m seriously wishing I’m somewhere else. Anywhere else. Preferably air-conditioned and with enough happy pills to elevate me from this abyss of an event where rave and the pursuit of partying go to die. Maybe Indochine with Idjut Boys is faring better. Or the Revel Production event at Musro. Or the new Heaven! Club. Or Apollo’s first anniversary at Bellagio. Or even Stadium, always the last resort but with the assured e availability. Ah well..

Micha, from Hed Kandi at Segarra, Ancol. Signing – and spacing – out.

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