- When Output opened almost three years ago it sent a series of shockwaves through the Brooklyn community. It offered a Funktion One soundsystem of unparalleled proportions and bookings to match, bringing an upscale price point and clientele to an area known for its thriving DIY ecosystem of illegal warehouse venues.
The way these tensions have played out since then has been an interesting subplot in NY's dance music journey. Underground heavyweights like Jeff Mills, DJ Sprinkles and Voices From The Lake have played standout sets at Output, the strength of their performances rippling out through the city in the wake of these shows. That said, many have expressed frustration at the club's sometimes-sleazy, pushy crowd and the pileup of expenses—$30 tickets, mandatory $4 coat check, $8 cans of beer—suggesting it's all part of the continued heteronormative gentrification of NY clubbing.
Thursday night's curveball of Total Freedom, Arca and Hood By Air founder Shayne promised a refreshing, landmark inversion of this dynamic. All three explore menacing, seductive takes on hip-hop, twisting the genre's machismo and braggadocio through a queer lens, drawing fascinating parallels between trap drums, futuristic Max MSP sound design, leering horrorcore and vogue culture. They took full advantage of the opportunity to turn the club into something significantly wilder than usual.
Total Freedom began at midnight wearing a leather face harness that evoked Mortal Kombat's Subzero. He started with a mix of cumbia rhythms and percolating, radio-ready hip-hop. Initially I was underwhelmed; the last time I saw him DJ he smeared Steve Reich rip-offs and Fripp & Eno's "Heavenly Music Corporation" atop heaving, clattering rhythms, and by contrast this felt more restrained. But as the net artist/fashion crowd poured in he amped up the weirdness. A sample from A Ghost In The Shell floated through the mix, while two muscled go-go dancers in capes writhed atop subs and eerie synth tones twisted like kudzu around the frame of top-40 fare.
By 12:30 AM, Arca had already discarded his trousers and was draping himself across the CDJs, grabbing a mic and crowing "Total Freeeeedom" through delay. Shayne and other members of their entourage were similarly taking turns on the mic, rapping and toasting. By the time Shayne took over at 1 AM, the mood was electric. While a friend of theirs roamed the club offering from a massive ziplock bag of Fruity Pebble marshmallow treats, Shayne tore his way through a set that included Beck's "Devil's Haircut," Nine Inch Nails and Jamie Principle's "Bad Boy" defiantly smashed against a seething "fuckin’ poser" sample. Though the mixing was technically rough, it only added to the frenetic mood.
Arca continued this frenzied, lysergic train of thought, making impulsive connections between industrial techno, catty baile funk and his work with Kanye West. The sense of possibility and risk was palpable, a blast of fresh air. At times it felt like I was hearing a fascinating new language, where the genre components that make up its structure have been so fused as to become something new altogether, something beautifully ugly, wonderfully terrifying and thrillingly real.
