- What used to be a car park out the front of defunct Ibiza club Space is now a cute pedestrianised zone complete with white stone benches, palm trees, designer lights and a tiled floor. The centrepiece is a series of large white letters—like you often see in capital cities—spelling out "#HïIbiza." On Saturday night, before joining one of several queues to enter the island's newest super club, scores of well-dressed punters posed for photos in front of the structure. Within minutes of arriving, I was asked to take an arty, side-on shot by a group of Russians who, on cue, draped themselves over the letters.
Saturdays at Hï in 2017 belong to Black Coffee, an artist who surprised many people by making the jump from Circoloco resident to running his own party at the Ushüaia-owned venue. But if you study the South African's recent career moves—which include signing an album to Ultra Music and licensing a track to Drake's latest full-length—the decision appears part of a wider shift towards conquering the mainstream in Europe and the US. (At home, he's easily one of the country's best-known musicians.) That said, in terms of profile, Black Coffee is still by some way the club's biggest gamble. Saturday, which was the party's third of 18 events, suggested he might pull it off.
That it's Hï's opening season should play in Black Coffee's favour—every week, a certain number of people will simply want to check out the club. (It also helps that the residency follows directly on from popular daytime party ANTS, Ushüaia's only house and techno event.) This was the first time I'd been back since Space's epic closing, and the initial few minutes were surreal, mostly because the layout is about the same. The biggest wins are the outside areas, Magic Garden (formerly Sunset Terrace) and Secret Garden (formerly El Salón), which are roomy and green, with comfy seating and elegant, jellyfish-like lights. (There's also, seemingly for shits and giggles, a tube slide in Magic Garden.)
The numerous LED screens in Theatre (formerly Discoteca) are impressive, but the rising coil of VIP booths enclosing the dance floor take up too much space. The sound, though loud and crisp, isn't a patch on what it was. The same can't be said of the venue's second room, Club (formerly Terrace), whose powerful system dealt well with Stacey Pullen and Carl Craig's bassy tech house and techno. With a few more bodies, I can imagine it really going off in there. Overall, the venue takes the concept of a super club to the next level. If Ushüaia, with its whitewashed walls and poolside parties, is Ibiza imitating Miami, then Hï, with its market-leading production and neon-lit bottles of Dom Pérignon, is Ibiza imitating Las Vegas.
The best atmosphere, for me, was in Wild Corner, a unisex toilet between Theatre and Club that masqueraded as a third room. Flanked by rows of cubicles on either side, sat a large white DJ booth, fitted with a wicked system and multi-coloured lights overhead. At one point, around 3:30 AM, former Space hero Paul Reynolds had the place jumping to house classics like Lovebirds' "Want You In My Soul." The vibe was silly and intimate, with people hollering loudly and banging on the toilet doors. It might sound strange on paper, but it was a nice, unpretentious touch.
Over in Theatre, Black Coffee was in the booth. Âme's Frank Wiedemann, who played live before him, had done a neat job, warming the floor with a run of dramatic chords, frilly synth breakdowns and a pumping version of Osunlade's "Envision." The South African went bigger still, filling the high ceilings with swinging drum rhythms and huge stabs and vocals, too many of which were cheesy. Culoe De Song's "Fallen Siren" hit the spot, but generally his selections lacked the depth and soul that made his Circoloco performances so thrilling and atmospheric. That was then, though. Today, Black Coffee could be an artist with different aims.