Last night I witnessed someone transcend the medium of their art.

For the past year or so, I’ve been frequenting the night scene less and less.
This is in part due to my sobriety and also due to my interests shifting.
I still have a deep love for those spaces and the people that one can find there, but I don’t have the intention and intuition of diving in again and again, at least not like I used to.
It took a long time for me to accept that this era was slowly drifting behind me, but I’ve come to terms with this new shadow being there alongside others.

Being a bit less engaged mostly changes the way I am out in these environments.
More selective, I intentionally decide on one event a month instead of two a week, and to get me out of the house at an ungodly hour nowadays, I need something exceptional.

The exception this month came with Djrum landing in town.
I discovered Djrum through his productions, “Portrait with Firewood,” “Meaning’s Edge,” and the recently released “Under Tangled Silence” being all pieces Ive gotten into again and again.
His productions are deep, introspective, they’re made more for an intentional listening experience than a dance party. As for his live performances, they’ve always had a reputation of being unique.

I remember learning more about his performance style when resident advisor released this interview.
The video spoke for itself, in those few minutes I was convinced that whatever he was doing I had never seen before, and that I needed to see him live.
It only took a few years for the planets to align.

It’s now 2am in Taipei on a Friday night, in a sweaty basement, and the set I and a packed crowd were waiting for starts.

Introductions are usually times for main acts to bring the energy up, capitalizing on the anticipation of 30-somethings feeling like they should be in bed right now.
He took it in the opposite direction: it was slow, disorganized, and somewhat messy.
I think most of us were trying to understand where this was going. Already layers of mismatched music were trying to find space above one another, until something clicked, the train was slowly moving ahead.
Barrages of effects would overwhelm the already full spectrum at times, setting the tone that this would be a hypersensitive experience.
Strobbing lights accented the already overwhelming experience, and it took me a good half an hour to settle into the experience.

It was uncomfortable at times and so soft at others.
I quickly moved to the side of the decks to witness the man at work.
It felt like there was little to no breathing room for him, juggling 3 vinyls at once, he was constantly finding new ways to blend while looking for the next disc in his case.
At times, he would take a transition for longer than what you would expect, pushing the crowd towards elongated discomfort, pushing tensions further before finally moving on.
He didn’t seem that focused on how we were reacting, it was instinctual, and we were all just passengers on this ride.

The minutes and hours passed, and no two sections were identical.
We navigated through so so many genres, from uk dub and rnb to heavy electro or ambient, every twist and turn complicated the journey beautifully.
I stayed put, gripping to the side of the stage, watching when I could, losing myself when I couldn’t.
I wanted to see the whole journey throughout, the entranced crowd around forcing me not to even think of leaving the room, locked-in through the end.

When it came time to close, a classical piano piece slowly pierced through the noise, bringing itself to the foreground progressively, helping the crowd to land after this voyage through the senses.
I looked around, and we all stopped dancing, simply admiring, smiling, and in awe.
No other sound but this reverberated piano to bring us all together to a close.

The light came up, and so did our conductor, finally raising his head to face the crowd, for what felt like the first time of the night, deservedly receiving ovation for his efforts.

Thank you, Felix.