- TS2's striped walls gave Droid Behavior's recent party a romper room feel. The dance floor was thick with bodies emanating the swarthy smell of heat and hormones. The intimate club was throbbing, salivating even as the night tumbled on and the clothes began to fall off.
Surging out the fingertips of Richard Devine was techno, no qualifier needed. Straight-up techno, the kind you dream about in slobbers, the unrelenting aural penetration that makes you come home from a party in the morning with I LOVE TECHNO written in blue marker down the length of your left arm.
Every time he backed off on the galloping beats for even a moment, screams stepped in to fill the void, followed by raised hot Hollywood hands owned by brunettes in shiny skirts, hipsters in wool hats and—of course—the always loveable techno freaks in their dark skinny jeans, dark shirts and dark hair a sweaty mess. Good music unites, no matter your area code.
Photo credit: Dean Paul
Defining the word intense, Devine slid up to wild stallion tempos with a smile to end his set, basking in the adoration emanating from even the back of the room. The freaks at the front of the dance floor are always live-wired and loud, but you know the show was stimulating when the head-nodders in the far left corner get their yell on.
Jimmy Edgar took over the stage to continue the rattling beats; the turn to crispier music felt like swimming in a cirrus cloud after bouncing in a cumulonimbus. A little mic-play brought a glimpse of tactility into his steely musical approach, but it was soda fizz without the soda. Where is that bottom drawer of bass? Pull it out and let fall the heavy treasures of sound!
The dance floor thinned slowly as rioters wandered away to the afterparty, to bed with their boyfriends, to dream of fire-rattling beats…and to wake up with I LOVE TECHNO written down their arms.