In a long, dark room, a tag-team of avant-garde European composers, New York club selectors and London post-grime artists are all trying to outdo each other to take clubbing and electronic music to some new kind of extreme.Dancing under falling streams of confetti and above dry ice, the crowd is just as diverse as the line-up: everyone from student ravers to shirtless ballroom boys, all coming together under the same blinding white light.
" Kelly's comments come at a time where young Hollywood actresses have been increasingly more open about discussing their sexual orientation. You can't put a gender on love," she explained, and said that she would be open to dating women.
You might assume this is London, or Brooklyn or Berlin or the outskirts of Lisbon, but it's not.
We’re in Liverpool, an always slightly separate-feeling city in the far corner of Britain’s post-industrial north, and cult producer Joshua Leary, aka Evian Christ, is culpable for all this madness. In a city where exciting music supposedly struggles to find an audience under the weight of a thousand bachelor and bachelorette parties every weekend, it feels subtly progressive that a room full of people are losing their minds to a breakbeat hardcore remix of “Where Are Ü Now.” It’s a long way from Justin Bieber’s original version, but that doesn’t matter one bit.
I’m at the back of the dance floor watching a collision of musical worlds at this night where imported American artists like Venus X and Total Freedom share a bill with mustachioed Italian trance composer Lorenzo Senni, Berlin-based club innovator Kablam, and U. It’s loud and it’s hard and it’s fast and there’s lasers and fog and floating bits of paper in the thick club air.
The walls are covered in sheets of A4, emblazoned with the strange language of British ‘90s rave posters: “room 1,” “set u free,” “trance sans frontiers.” It’s more like being at Liverpool nightlife institution Cream in 1998, or some obscure forest rave than another ‘serious’ electronic music night.