- New York has a wide variety of electronic music in its nightlife, but it's also somewhat segregated. Public Assembly's Bunker and the mixed bag of events that go on at Studio B cater to most Brooklyn types quite nicely, so much so that it's easy to forget, at times, the ongoing scenes in Manhattan. It's only a crossover act like Jeff Mills, then, that led me to find my way to the Sullivan Room for the first time—a place that has been a home base for Basic NYC for five years now. Having been to countless hipster techno parties across the East River, heading to the Washington Square Park venue was going to be a new experience on many levels.
But despite our pre-conceived notions about the kind of crowd that frequented the venue, a crew of Boston DJs and I were ready to brave whatever the scene in order to see Jeff Mills perform a special live set—one that was curated for this particular night. It was my first time seeing him, and after missing his Tresor-esque set at the Tangent Gallery in Detroit a week or two earlier, and nothing was going to stop me.
Much of the time spent before Mills set, which began around 1:30 AM, involved acclimating to the surroundings. The venue's walls were exposed brick that featured poorly painted Medieval scenes covered over with a silvery wrapping paper. Balloons filled the ceiling space. It was cheesy, but at the same time really endearing. And no one was having much problem pre-gaming to resident DJs Sleepy & Boo's alternating sets. Their party has been sometimes described as having plenty of "solid, straight-up jacking house," but on this night they delivered techno and tech house that was an appropriate lead-up to Mills' headlining set.
While the bathroom line filled up with women in short shorts, furry boots and Tigger backpacks re-applying lip gloss, the outdoor area was constantly manned by two or three large bouncers that moderated the influx of ticket holders, ticket buyers and avid smokers. It wasn't until the very moment that Mills went on that I finally believed he was actually going to play in such a place. The ceilings felt low, the drinks were pricey (alright, it was Manhattan) and, well...it was the absolute opposite of a warehouse.
Bur arrive he did. And play he did. In fact, Mills assaulted our minds and bodies for five solid hours. For the first five minutes, the lights coincided with the space shuttle take-off feel of Mills' launch. The bass rumbled around and under us, and a slow, ambient wave of sound cuddled the crowd. Mills moved between a 909, computer and 2 CD-Js with robotic grace, but occasionally engaged the crowd with subtle gratitude.
Over the course of the five hours, Mills pushed and pulled the crowd expertly, going from deep ambient to hard Tresor techno. The obvious highlight was, of course, "The Bells"—an unexpected one, too, considering he had reportedly designed this set for this night. But when it came it brought the night to a religious climax. Old fans screamed with joy, and it's fair to assume that first-timers were immediately hooked.
At the end of his set, Mills answered our cries for "One! More! Record!" and went through about five more tracks before the thirty or so remaining disciples filtered out into a blue-grey morning. There were a handful of trainwrecks—minor in light of the night's triumphant atmosphere—but every person leaving the Sullivan Room was drenched in their own sweat. The wrapping on the walls had been mostly torn down, as if our birthday present decor had been slowly opened throughout the night. What went down inside was truly a gift.