Dispatches From Miami Music Week: Part 3
By Day Three of Miami Music Week, one has been fully entrenched in the endless spin cycle of parties and music and networking and fun. It’s intermittently blissful and exhausting, but we’re not ready to head home quite yet. We’ve hit the point of no return.
Here’s how we spent our Saturday (and Sunday morning) in South Beach.
SATURDAY
6:18 am We’re walking back to a friend’s hotel room down Collins Avenue when we spot a sweaty runner. He’s already getting an early start to his day, while we’re just barely ending our long night. Collectively, we feel like horrible humans and decide it’s time for us to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
2:35 pm: We’re hanging on the beach when these planes fly over and remind us that these very famous DJs all have very lucrative residencies in Vegas, because they don’t pay a pilot to fly around a banner with your name on it if you’re not pulling in major bank. We’re then approached by an employee assigned to our resort’s section of the beach. Apparently, we don’t have enough “beach passes,” and he then rudely asks us to get off the beach chair and takes it away. The embarrassment is the equivalent of not being “on the list” at the club door. Even on the beach, we can’t escape Miami’s rules of clubland.
3:15 pm: We arrive once more at the Red Bull Guest House, where the lineup today features Mannie Fresh, ?uestlove, Hudson Mohawke and…wait for it…Lil Wayne. We have arrived early because Lil Wayne is, in fact, our favorite, and this place is going to hit capacity early, because he is also a lot of peoples’ favorite.
4:30 pm: As predicted, the Guest House has reached capacity, and ?uestlove is currently demonstrating his genius with a killer DJ set mixing hip-hop, funk, soul and reggae. It is the perfect soundtrack to a sunny afternoon by the beach. At one point he mashes up the horn section from Outkast’s “SpottieOttieDopaliscious” and “Pony” by Ginuwine, and it is basically the best thing that has ever happened.
6:15 pm: Hudson Mohawke wraps his set and then Lil Wayne takes the stage. Everyone who has been waiting all afternoon for this moment participates in a massive dance party that, at least where we’re standing, includes a lot of grinding. Guys onstage throw Young Money T-shirts into the crowd, a swarm of people rushes the stage to take photos, and Wayne plays a hits-laden set including “A Milli,” “Rich as Fuck,” and “Believe Me.” The show lasts for approximately 45 minutes, but what an unbelievably fun 45 minutes they are. This event was easily a highlight of the weekend, and not just because we left with two Young Money T-shirts.
7:30 pm: We take a long stroll home down Collins and then through Plaza de Espanola, a pretty pedestrian promenade lined with shops and charming cafés. While en route, we peer through the window of one restaurant and see that Wisconsin is beating Arizona in the NCAA tournament. Wisconsin is one of our staffer’s alma mater, so it’s some athletic icing on an already excellent afternoon.
SUNDAY
12:34 am: After some blogging, a disco nap, a shower, two Emergen-Cs, and a pizza, we are officially ready for some Saturday night revelry. Basement Miami is the first stop, where techno lord Jimmy Edgar is going in. We notice a few things right off the bat. First, the Edison, which houses Basement Miami, is super posh. It looks like somewhere that can host an Oscars afterparty, with a huge, dramatically lit lobby and beautiful art decorating the hallways. Basement Miami is the venue’s attempt at an underground club, but the vibes just weren’t there. Second, the crowd was not your typical Jimmy Edgar audience. Instead of your hipster, knowledgeable techno heads, we’re greeted by a bunch of Euro foreigners in their mid-‘40s, who are dressed in Sears-bought jeans and long-sleeved button-ups, busting out dance moves they learned from their VHS copy of Saturday Night Fever. We’re expecting all-black outfits and vintage leather boots, but we get cocktail dress-wearing ladies flashing neon glowsticks on the dancefloor. Though Jimmy Edgar dropped one of his always-flawless sets, the dots just didn’t connect, unfortunately, so we aced that place.
1:20 am: We meet up with our posse at Club Deuce because, as we mentioned before, it is the best bar in town. We have a beer and discuss the night’s game plan.
3:51 am: The vibes at Get Lost are weird, dark and dank. It looks like a scene straight out of Trainspotting. But what’d you expect from Damian Lazarus and his Crosstown Rebels crew? Now in its 10th installment, Get Lost is an absolute must for followers of the underground. It’s a stacked lineup, featuring Claude VonStroke, Dubfire, Josh Wink, Route 94, Sasha, and Lazarus himself, which is befitting for the 24-hour party (Saturday 5am through Sunday 5am). Upon walking into the LMNT Studios, where Get Lost is being hosted, people are indeed completely lost. Burned out partiers sit atop of carpets spread across the concrete floors outside. Inside the space, decorated with a trippy art tree, all the amenities are provided, including food from famed Miami restaurant Gigi’s, and even a separate room with bedding and pillows for when the dancing gets to be too much. Two stage areas are popping off. The room on the left is jam-packed, smoky and sweaty with blinding lasers hitting our eyes at every other low bassline. On the right stage, something special is happening. Lazarus, Art Department’s Jonny White, and DJ Tennis are going b2b2b. The folks are grooving on the deep, deep, deep vibes, and the room becomes a vortex of rare house and techno. But the real party is happening at the outdoor area, where a dirty alleyway decorated in street art and graffiti murals is crowded and dancers in the dark pay no attention to the cold air. We left Get Lost feeling drained from our minds, bodies, and souls, and it’s then when we realize something. Get Lost isn’t just a party. It’s a marathon social experiment meant to test the limits of the human body.
5:15 am: The name of the party is called No Cameras, No Phones, and it is called that because it is happening at Diddy’s house, which is essentially the nicest home and backyard we’ve ever been to. Diddy is currently on the mic telling the crowd that some things are special, and only meant for a few people, thus no one is allowed to Tweet, Instagram, or even have their phones out. It’s incredibly refreshing to look over the crowd and not see a single person staring down at their screens. There are a bunch of DJs in attendance, although Justin Bieber is arguably the most famous person here. The Biebs is wearing a sort of trendy cowboy hat and looks much younger in person.
A photo posted by Ventura Since 1986 (@venturasince1986) on Mar 31, 2015 at 9:28am PDT
7:00 am: Back at Diddy’s, the sun has risen (thank God we brought our sunglasses) and the party is still going strong. In a move reminiscent of the Bay Boys For Life video, Diddy, who is on his third outfit of the evening, dances around on his roof and then gets on the mic and announces that anyone who isn’t dancing is kindly invited to leave. No one leaves. Everyone dances to the super feel-good, soul-infused set that Felix da Housecat’s is currently playing. Every person we encounter makes a comment about how blissfully wonderful and incredibly surreal this party is. On the lawn, there are even two white horses wearing unicorn horns, just to make things a bit more magical.
12:15 pm: We leave Diddy’s house, grabbing one of the gift bags lined up at the end of the driveway on our way out. This “get home safe kit” includes an apple, orange juice, water, gum, Altoids and Sun Chips. When we do get home safe, we crawl into bed, feeling that perhaps it was all a dream.
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