Frostbite II :: A Brilliantly Conducted Psytrance Sensation In A Concentration Camp

I have yet to review an indoor trance party, for in comparison to the open outdoors they never hold fort. Yet Frostbite II this past Monday had left me with a little story that I would like to share.

It tells the tale of an Orca whale, hailing from the land of the promised, and how he amongst our local heroes educated thousands as to what psy is all about.

But there were thousands, and I promise I didn’t party.

After the jump!

Right, let’s get to it. I suppose we could start with a few pros, for no one likes a cynical smartass. Upon arriving at The Fez I was utterly dumbstruck by the copious amount of people lined up to enter a splendidly transformed club. To see such a vast amount of people, eagerly awaiting their access, is both a painful and an exhilarating sight, for it assures you that what lies ahead is well worth your while.

And it was, for this was no longer The Fez. Instead, the Frostbite organisers transformed the place into a festival of sorts, albeit under a roof. Immense amounts of decor, lightings, and even a brand new stage set perfectly to cater a tunnel of people, ensuring that the custom sound rig reaches out to all ears. In terms of setup, I can only but praise the amount of effort put in.

But this mentioned tunnel was not one without implications. At certain segments of it, very oddly positioned, unbearable heat waves dominated the atmosphere, deeming breathing a skill rather than an instinctive reaction. It was also immensely populated by hundreds, if not thousands of people, each guarding their small claimed space with their goddamn lives.

Now, any a trancer, or human being for that matter, will agree that there is a certain barrier of private space that once crossed, numerously, causes a feeling of utter discomfort. This issue, which from here onwards shall be referred to as the ‘Concentration Camp Syndrome’, was prodominantely evident for the rest of the night.

When posed with the above mentioned circumstances, you are left with merely two choices. You can either moan & complain for the rest of the night about heatwaves (now coupled with the sweat of non-innocent beefcakes & drunk woo girls), dooming your night completely, or, you can decide to make do with what you have, laugh at the situation and become apart of it, for the music is what it’s all about.

I chose the latter, the red pill that leads to the rabbit hole. I made the right choice.

Commercial Hippies start their set with their famous Lark remixed track that surrounds you in perfect serenity, in the midst of all the chaos. They continue to climax and impress for the rest of their set, only to hand over the stage to the musical geniuses that form Super Evil. When I think of Super Evil’s set that night, I want to jump and swear and tell everyone how fucking incredible it was. They produce a sense of excitement that sticks with you for days to come, flawlessly running through their tracks, some more famous than others, and sending the masses into a vortex (whilst others into orbit). EMP follow with an impeccable set of their own, bringing back the live violin, a mild touch that makes all the difference in the world.

Now the dancefloor fills up. The cultural unison of trancers is demolished into a constant moshpit. People are getting burnt, girls are getting elbowed left, right and centre (albeit a funny sight), bottles are breaking and the crowd is screaming – Orca comes on stage.

Truth unfolds, whilst his set is good, I do prefer his old stuff more. Comparing his set to when he last played in SA several months ago has left me in a somewhat unimpressed state. That’s not say that he wasn’t good, but it just didn’t give me that kick that our local talent has. Maybe I’m just not a fan of concentration camp. And yes, he did play Sad Movies, and it was utterly amazing and equally as chaotic. Switchcache takes on Archive for a good ol’ closing set, and it was during such that I bid my farewell (as a surviving Joo, I have mastered the skills of escaping such camps without being noticed).

All in all, huge amount of respect and appreciation to the organisers for a job incredibly done. The DJs, for never a dull moment. Jocks & Woo Girls, maybe one day we’ll be friends. I dunno, just Don’t Party.

Pictures by Scott Rennie – More to follow soon!