- Singapore's iron-fisted laws have turned the tropical island into one of the most orderly countries in Asia. The red-light district of Geylang, one of the last vestiges of sin, is the latest gritty corner being scrubbed clean by police raids and alcohol sale restrictions—but the neighborhood still has a whiff of seedy secrets lurking behind red-lanterned brothel doors.
Earlier this month, sliding past a heavy metal gate into an industrial factory compound, I found myself lost and confused in a fluorescent-lit parking lot, searching for signs of a promised rave. Spotting stray hands flicking cigarette butts off a second-floor balcony, I climbed up a flight of stairs, and turned the corner into a room lined with shelves of hot whirling machines. "Those are bitcoin mining computers," said a guy selling tickets. "The party is next door."
I forked over S$15 and pushed through flapping freezer door strips into a pitch-dark punk venue where a few dozen sweaty kids were jerking around to alien bleeps and icy synth stabs under strobing red lights. This was Horizon99, a party started six months ago by a crew of artists and musicians affiliated with art space soft/WALL/studs and experimental label Ujikaji Records, among other outposts of the Singapore underground.
Now into its third edition, the roving event is anchored by residents Sant Ruengjaruwatana and Chantal Tan, who act as residents under the names ROT FRONT and A(;D respectively. Local guests that night—who included DJs Ponzi Palace and GOTHHOBBIT, as well as live EBM and industrial techno duo Dodgy South—were a testament to Horizon99's mission: developing a sustainable scene with Singaporean musicians, rather than bringing in names from abroad. "There is a distinct need within the local nightlife scene for a fringe event to present new sounds and new opinions… eager to be heard," the collective said in a statement on Facebook earlier this month.
At one climatic point of the night, A(;D, bowed over a laptop and mixer on a cheap plastic table, dropped K-pop amid experimental club tracks, ingeniously weaving the swaggering vocals of CL's "Hello Bitches" into the stuttering android rhythms of Errorsmith's "Lightspeed" and Hitmakerchinx's "Earthquake." When ROT FRONT stepped up to close, the sounds swerved towards more menacing industrial techno, though this borderless, free-flowing approach continued—I heard hardcore-laced stompers like "Pyre" by Shanghai-based producer Osheyack, Kilbourne's "Sourland" and "Paris" by Casual Gabberz affiliates Evil Grimace and Von Bikräv.
The party was what late-night fever dreams are made of. Queer art school kids danced next to self-declared skinheads, everyone brought their own booze and quickly ran out of cigarettes, and nobody cared when computer glitches repeatedly caused accidental stops and starts in the sets. Above all, I was reminded of what rave culture can be at its most political and hedonistic: a screeching cry of defiance against banality and oppression.