More than 48-hours have passed since I staggered out of Bangna’s BITEC at the tender time of 3:16am on Sunday morning, clammy hands fumbling for my final cigarette, half-heartedly attempting to recollect the evening’s proceedings in anticipation of this very review. Flicking through the nasty vodka Red Bull-sodden pages of my notebook the next afternoon I quickly came to realize that even the legible scrawls would be of no use and once again checked the corners of my frayed brain for any sign or signal. Alas.
Then, as the day progressed, scattered fragments gradually congealed to form an incomplete jigsaw of flashbacks and self-loathing – I was yanked back to Godskitchen Boombox Stage, sweat pouring and dancing like a right prat. The atmosphere – a toxic cocktail of contagious anticipation and euphoria each time the tune peaked, hurtling into overdrive as the drop spread across the filthy pit of rambunctious reprobates. The stage was by far the biggest attraction of the evening living up to its hallowed reputation and serving up a trance-laced banquet of administered anarchy to the hungry ravers below.
It was about 12am and outside the Popscene Stage appeared to be coming to a close, that’s if it ever really got going. From the start it was fairly miserable, out of place and at best comical. By the time headliners The Young Knives – a forgotten British four-piece from a few years back – blessed the remainder of the audience with its brief back catalogue of dated songs and an overwhelming sense of Weltschmerz (a stern reminder that certain bands should simply put down the instruments once the moment has passed), the groups of young kids appeared to have all but given up the mandatory, mostly awkward sways and hand waves, opting instead to park their arses on the tarmac, delving into a midnight picnic of fags and overpriced cans of Chang.
By this point 808 State was already well into its nostalgic set of early 90s Madchester Acid House, casting out club classics such as “Pacific State” and “Flow Coma” to a sparse collective who were trying in earnest to relive the Hacienda glory days, while the remainder of the room appeared infatuated by scantly-clad Russian dancers or found themselves posing for photos with Mondays mascot and vibe provider Bez, who, all things considered, looked pretty fresh.
Elsewhere at the PsyHead Community Stage room, faithful followers of full-moon trance were already long lost in the cosmic vibrations and psybient visuals cooly provided by The Gathering, while next door at the Culture Bass Stage kids flung themselves about to some mainstream DnB and dubstep – which the rest of the world has unfortunately had to listen to since it escaped the confinements of UK clubs a couple of year ago.
Without warning at around 12:20am, a subconscious signal seemed to resonate through BITEC and the sweaty bedlamites began, en masse, to flock towards the Boombox. Goaded by an extraordinary orgy of lasers, strobes and fog, the crowd gathered, gazing narcotically at the emerging silhouette in the box above. Enter Dash Berlin. Complete with a hand held digital screen greeting Bangkok, the Dutch techno legend quickly saw to it that nobody would escape his massive synths and spaced-out vocals, flooding the floor with mashups of recent classics including “Till The Sky Falls Down” and “World Falls Apart.” The place apocalyptically writhed, vibrated, quaked and quivered and finally the festival was in full-swing.
What happened over the next few hours, however, is beyond me. Vague recollections of failed compromises with cab drivers and the sun rising over a defeated figure in a front garden somewhere in Ari area, I’m sure, are of little significance.
