Dispatches From Miami Music Week: Part 2

As we mentioned yesterday, we are, at this very moment, in South Beach for Miami Music Week. We have been Miami’ing for more than 48 hours straight and have slept for approximately 90 minutes total since arriving on Wednesday. Beyond Instagram, we have lost contact with the outer world and are currently existing in a dance music bubble, a strange and rare vortex that is not going to burst at least until Monday when we all fly home. We have only a vague perception of what day it is and are currently writing this while hunched over a computer wrapped in a bed sheet for warmth. We’re having the time of our damn lives.

This is what has gone done in the last 24 hours of Miami Music Week:

FRIDAY

10:45 am: For whatever reason, we think it’s a genius idea to wake up early and join Kaskade for a morning run through South Beach. On any given day, we’d give a limb to join Kaskade for a beachside jog, but this isn’t any given day. We’ve spent the last two days partying our faces off and our legs feel like absolute Jell-O. Still, we somehow muster the energy to meet Kaskade and an army of fans on Fifth Street and Ocean Drive and head out on a 1.5-mile sprint through Collins Avenue. With adrenaline pumping through our veins and Kaskade’s latest single “Never Sleep Alone” blasting, we end at the W Hotel, where all our fellow runners congregate. We’re sweating like there’s no tomorrow and Kaskade still manages to look as handsome as ever. Dude’s definitely found the fountain of youth.

Just chatted with these 3 about UK dance domination. Watch for the interview coming soon! @petetong @GorgonCity #wmc pic.twitter.com/I1WWxuk8Yq

— Insomniac.com (@insomniacdotcom) March 27, 2015

1:15 pm: The lobby of the Fontainebleau is really chic and bustling with fancy-looking foreign people. It is the kind of place we probably can’t afford to stay, but which we get to hang out in when we’re interviewing famous DJs. (These are perks, folks.) Pete Tong and the guys from Gorgon City meet with us inside of the hotel’s nightclub Liv, which is currently empty of people, fully lit and smelling of stale alcohol. The trio of talent looks hella tired. Tong says he was hanging with friends in his hotel room and the Gorgon City guys have just landed in town and say they haven’t really slept for a few days. We personally got three hours of sleep last night and assure you that altogether we are a very lively group.

Erik Voake / Red Bull Content Pool

4:15 pm: Justin Martin is playing at the Red Bull Guest House, which is packed and once again populated with an extraordinary looking crowd. Seriously some of these people have to be models who are getting paid to simply hang out. There are six or so people in the pool, because no one actually swims at these kinds of pool parties. Duke Dumont takes the stage and dives into a killer house set that includes his recent, epic single “Won’t Look Back” and even the security guards dance in place a bit, as it is impossible not to move to this song. Duke tells us that he likes our shirt, which makes us feel very hip indeed.

5:15 pm: We stand at the corner of 17th and Meridian and call an Uber. It comes 45 minutes later, because traffic is hellacious. We are sweaty tired and thus crabby. No one in South Beach needs a nap and a shower more than we do in this very moment.

6:45 pm: The rain starts to drop harder than Bassnectar. Winds are super strong, too. So strong that they’re physically pushing us to the side. We’re getting a tad scared, but at least there’s no thunder or lightning, though it still feels like a minor storm. The rain and winds start to calm just as fast as they roared in, which apparently is very common here in Miami.

8:11 pm: We’re in our beds blogging so hard our eyes are burning. It’s time for a disco nap. BRB.

SATURDAY

12:12 am: Gladiator are going HAM at the Fool’s Gold party at Grand Central. Trap arms are flailing everywhere. Booties are twerking. People are grinding like it’s a high school dance. Just when things couldn’t get any nastier, they drop Ginuwine’s “Pony.” Minutes later, they follow it up with the R. Kelly classic “Ignition (Remix).” We ask a tipsy girl if she’s ever seen R. Kelly live. “I have. It’s like going to church.” We immediately become BFFs. Backstage, we see some familiar faces, including Tchami, who performed a surprise set that night, and Chromeo’s Dave 1, who’s A-Trak’s older brother. It’s then when we understand that this is more than a party. It’s a family affair.

12:45 am: MK is playing Treehouse, which means the place is packed. Outside, a group of aspiring revelers tries convincing the doorman that they are on the list, but apparently they are not, which makes them not very happy. Inside, the music is on point and a light rain is falling on the crowd on the patio, but only for a few minutes. Conversations around the venue focus primarily on what we were all doing before this party, what party we will be partying at after this party, and how tired we all are.

Erik Voake / Red Bull Content Pool

2:45 am: We have been eagerly awaiting the Breakfast Club party at the Red Bull Guest House, not only because we like Seth Troxler—who’s playing some super soul disco in here tonight—but also because we really like free donuts and pizza, which are currently being served. The party is being held in the lobby of the Sagamore Hotel, which has a cool art deco vibe that lends this darkly lit soiree a very Gatsby vibe, although that makes the Gatsby in this scenario an energy drink.

3:43 am: MK had us grooving so hard we returned to Treehouse for some more house goodness. The room is as dark and dank as we remember it. Behind the DJ decks, something special is happening. We see MK in the background, doing his super fly, signature shoulder dance. He, like us, is clearly having a good time. We don’t recognize the DJ (again, it’s super dark), but it doesn’t matter. Our feet are moving; it feels like dancing on clouds. As the lights come on and the party shuts down, we approach the DJ and ask his name. “Kevin…Saunderson.” Our mouths dropped, partly because we were embarrassed we didn’t recognize him, but mainly when we realized that we just experienced an intimate set with one of the originators of techno. We left shortly after our faux pas, but not without taking a selfie with the legend himself.

4:05 am: In a stroke of genius, someone from our crew decides we need to head to the nearest dive bar with a jukebox and play some rock ‘n’ roll, because yes, even electronic music enthusiasts in the midst of the current world nexus of the scene need an occasional analog reset. We thus jump in a cab and cruise down Collins to Club Deuce, which is purported to be the oldest bar in South Beach and which is exactly the kind of non-brand sponsored hole in the wall we were aspiring to end up at. Inside it’s dark and small and no one in here looks like they give a shit about bottle service. We play “Paradise City” by Guns N’ Roses and headbang until last call.