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Miami’s annual Winter Music Conference: “…where legends are made, stories unfold, and inhibitions are lost every minute of the sun-soaked day and all through the sweat-soaked night.” Could this year’s event possibly live up to all the hype?
Read the full review. You can also read our previous WMC '04 preview here. |
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"There were distinct differences in this year’s WMC compared to years past – some good, some bad."David Prince’s M3 Miami Music & Multimedia Summit brought the focus back to the Conference itself, with artist showcases, panel discussions, and exclusive performances from cutting-edge artists, such as Danger Mouse performing his much-hyped Grey Album live. Prince’s influence on the WMC this year was tangible and positive, and the M3 Summit succeeded in its mission to “promote both the culture of electronic music and its creators; provide devoted music-heads and industry professionals a diverse, cutting-edge musical lineup; educate industry leaders and veterans about the best ways to adapt to the rapidly changing industry and new technologies; and welcome leaders from related industries and help them actively participate in electronic music culture.” On the other hand, as the years pass and the parties grow, the industry focus of the Conference itself begins to wane, as this year punters began to take over and events turned into human traffic jams. Which in and within itself isn’t bad – but the presence of the shiny-shirted, bridge-and-tunnel plastic crowd made Collins Avenue look a bit too much like the Front Beach Road on Spring Break in Panama City at times, and to a degree skewed the primary focal point of the WMC – the music.Yet no one could deny the unmistakable energy that turns Miami into “the American Riviera” - the cultural heartbeat in the streets of South Beach was palpable and constant – a different language being spoken with every passing group, different beats ringing out from each building, but a common positive energy between all of them – music and culture and celebration and excess all colliding in perfect unison for a few short days under a full moon and amongst the thick tropical Southern Florida breezes. Tantalizing beaches beckoned all weekend – with temperatures in the upper-80s, blue skies and sunshine in excess, the delectable aroma of grilled food wafting from 10th to 14th Streets due to the Food and Wine Festival taking place, and the endless stream of topless women and chiseled, tan men - the fabled South Beach was a paradise for the senses all week long. The full moon on Saturday night caused a low tide and a very high shelf in the turquoise 74 degree water, which allowed a sandbar to raise itself out of the water about 20 yards out – laying on the cool white sand, surrounded on both sides by the warm ocean as a small film of water passed over your back and the sun warmly massaged your skin made it very, very difficult to leave the beach during the day. But, the pulsing energy of the Conference parties was also hard to ignore, with bass ricocheting off the art deco high-rises that hugged the coast and tens of thousands of people lining the streets day and night. The smaller poolside events had that distinct Conference feel about them – the Creek Hotel was chalk-full of quality all weekend, with a stocked bar, large groups from the UK, the Mediterranean and beyond - and with one room opened up into a mock DJ booth, jocks like Lee Burridge, James Zabiela and Trendroid dropped by to spin rekkids throughout the day. But with names like Subliminal, Yoshitoshi and M_Nus dropping bombs at Miami’s choicest palatial venues, the massive label events with rock-solid talent would also make everyone’s itinerary and undoubtedly go down as parties of legend. There was something for everyone at this years Winter Music Conference – here is just a small taste of some of the events Cultivate attended: |
"Mark Lewis dropping Britney Spears' “Toxic” at Winter Music Conference..." The Miami Meets Detroit BBQ at I/O in the downtown design district was just dripping with DTown flavor – the spacious patio allowed plenty of room for everyone to stretch out, have a seat and grab some sun, or shade, while the grill blazed with burgers and chicken all afternoon. Chilling outside, drinking a Corona and eating a cheeseburger while Agent X Clark rocked some classic Detroit techno, meeting peeps from New York , LA , and Orlando – the vibe doesn't get much more real. The hard-core headz were inside the cavernous club, where Eyevee was tossing down a brain-beating set in the late afternoon – but most peeps were outside soaking up the last remnants of another glorious Miami day, filling their stomachs for the long night ahead, and enjoying some old skool classics from some legends from the D. Punisher and Matthew Dear showed the unlimited promise of Detroit 's future, while Agent X's old skool set and Scott Spellman's photo collage of DEMF's past represented its history and influence – a perfect way to spend an afternoon at the Conference. |
"...your only hope of staying in the cradle of the vibe is to bounce into the air to the beat, that brain stimulating, spine bending, break-beat."Sunday’s to-do list of can’t miss events was as long as the walks inbetween them – from the Opium Garden on 1st and Ocean to Nerve on 23rd, Sunday was packed with quality – the only problem was choosing what to hit, and how to get there. The Further/Plus or Minus/Unrestricted afternoon session at Jazid was a great warm-up for the madness that laid ahead - Jazid is an intimate Washington Street space with a lofty feel to it, as Proton Radio jocks Daniel Mnookin and Brian Ffar rocked smart tech-house-meets-minimal sets, and the space filled up quickly to catch 112’s Dennis Rodgers follow suit with an equally eclectic blend of minimal and tech-house. Next was Pauli P’s West Coast Collective event at the unbeatable El Cardozo Hotel, right in the heart of Ocean Avenue. This party truly was the pulse of the Left Coast at the Conference. You could see business being discussed while drinks flowed and eyes wandered towards the spectacular eye candy on its way to the jam-packed beach. Local west coast talent filled the Cardozo with resonating house tracks and made for a upbeat atmosphere. Props to Pauli P for setting up a unique and ongoing party representing us westies! The Next Step party at the Opium Garden was as distinctive a Miami WMC party as you can get – the venue itself is uniquely South Beach – an open-air botanical garden filled with Buddhist décor, canopied beds strewn throughout the main patio, and a thatched roof that houses a spacious dancefloor with the DJ booth hovering right at the foot. The smell of herb floated through the air as Joeski rocked a razor-sharp set of funky house to a lightly dressed beautiful crowd who danced like it was 2AM. And with Doc Martin, Sneak and Yousef still to follow, this party was only bound to elevate. The unbeatable vibe of this daytime house party is one of those diamonds in the rough – sometimes the club nights at the Conference can resemble any all-night affair across the country – but a sun-soaked dance floor pulsing all afternoon is something that can only be experienced at the WMC. Another unique Conference event was the Roam/Stereo party on the Townhouse hotel rooftop – a high-quality affair in every aspect. With an unbeatable view of the entire South Beach shoreline and clean, crisp white flooring and railings scattered with red waterbeds throughout, this venue was as breathtaking as they come. As tribal tech-house beats from Chus & Ceballos and Mazi rang out into the open air as the brilliant, massive sun dropped below the horizon, the amped-up crowd made this yet another one-of-a-kind Miami experience. The monumental Sunday night started with the X’ess party at Mirage, which was a Chicago family reunion to the fullest – nothing but familiar ChiTown faces in the crowd and behind the decks. Three rooms of quality house music, with great sound and unbeatable vibe everywhere you turned. In one of the purest moments of the Conference, Chris Gin rocked a throwback Chicago house set in the cozy back room, to everyone from Crobar babies to the Chi’s own Mike Dearborn. The only thing that beat the look on some of the old skoolers faces as shades of Gin’s sets at Kaboom and Warehouse came right back to the forefront, was the look on the Custom One’s face himself as he dropped classics like "You Can't Hide" by Frankie Knuckles and "Move Your Body" by Marshall Jefferson – you could see the joy and passion pulsing through his hands as he played the records that formed his musical foundation. And with Derrick Carter and Gene Farris on the way, you know the X’ess party finished with nothing but four-to-the-floor madness from the peeps that started it all. One couldn’t ignore the Subliminal party at Crobar that everyone wanted to penetrate and witness - yet once you found out that the normal Crobar door staff was relieved of duty leaving only the rigid Subliminal creeps, it became a lot easier to seek out a party with a lot less bullshit. Press passes ignored, $60 plus bottle service to gain entry – even the legendary and loveable G-Orgy, Crobar Chicago’s favorite doorman who even came with paystub in hand, was at first refused entry, then required to pay a $30 cover just to get in. Yes, we all love Morillo, but there were too many other class events going down in South Beach on Sunday night to empty your pockets and your pride at Subliminal. The M_Nus Records party at Privilege had one of the deepest lineups in terms of quality of talent and music at the whole WMC – the only problem with most of the parties at the Conference is that they tend to be very top-heavy with talent; most of the big names that everyone’s waiting for don’t come on until late in the evening, which really makes it hard to hit more than one party in a night and see everyone you want to. But M_Nus delivered the goods all night long, with Magda opening up the main room dark and early around 10 – she showed why she is as esteemed as she has been in recent years, making minimal techno dancefloor-friendly, which is a seemingly near-impossible task. With her trademark glitchy minimal sound and thundering basslines, the main room was busy early in the night. Clark Werner kept the open terrace area very chilled with an extremely spaced-out minimal set – his microscopic sound bordered on ambient and faded in and out of the background of the chilled-out terrace. And John Acquaviva picked up the second room after a sound beating from Minx, and rocked that shit proper right until close. Once the one o’clock hour rolled around, things just kept getting better – Matthew Dear started his set all-vinyl, and worked his way into a fusion live PA that showcased his digital, ghostly sound. It was hard to leave the comfort of the terrace with Dear and his dark, heavenly beats – but the thunder coming from downstairs could not be ignored. Upon entry into the main room, the apocalypse had ensued as Richie Hawtin was absolutely destroying the frenzied crowd with some relentless techno. And, for the next four hours, Plastikman would do what he does best – baiting his passionate listeners into his dark, twisted world. The name of the party was “minimize to maximize,” and what Hawtin did at Privilege couldn’t have been summed up any better. The sound and energy oscillated all night; he went from manic destruction of the room to mind-twisting minimal with the greatest of ease, and the crowd was with him the whole way. After a few brain-beating tracks that had the whole room jackin’, Richie would strip the sound down layer by layer, leaving nothing but a blippy minimal loop that hypnotized the entire room; just as the crowd was thoroughly lost in it’s own mind, Hawtin would unleash a wave of unrelenting, skull-fucking techno that would catapult the whole room into simultaneous chaos. Back and forth, up and down, all night long – Hawtin owned, and the crowd was nothing but slaves in his twisted mind. While the choices of house and techno at the Conference were abundant, the break beat scene also held it down all week with some massive breaks-only events - and why not - the broken beat has ruled Southern Florida from day one until the end of time. The best in the genre assembled for a couple monster throwdowns, with the first being Breaksday at Maze. A first hand perspective of the madness by our guest editor, Muppet Warrior. Breaksday - the night I got broken. The vibe in the room was initially tentative, being the first big night of breaks in Miami . Probably the first chance at breaks for most of the WMC peeps. The night begins with an opening duel between Atomic Hooligan in the main room, and San Diego's own B-Side in the upstairs space. Bouncing between the two rooms only fueled the anticipation of what the night was going to have in store for a breakbeat junkie long removed from his Orlando breaks deflowering. The crowd began to grow, and the dancers started to appear, centered in small semi-circles that were trying to form. The vibe builds. With the likes of Freq Nasty, DJ Hyper, Elite Force, Krafty Kutz, Rennie Pilgrem and more together in one night, in one space, we all knew we were in for it - so all there was to do was dig in, order another drink, and light a smoke. That's when it began. Two individuals stepped out onto a small lower stage, nearly dance floor level, almost unnoticed. The small “band-like” instrument setup barely seemed capable of making noise let alone unleashing the waves of damage that were soon to come. The vibe builds. As the music begins, head after head turns and takes notice. The mass of the crowd is no longer dancing amongst themselves, they are forming a larger semi-circle around the mini-stage, with curiosities peaked. Uberzone is on, and they are live. We are witnessing !Q! on the synths, electronic drum pads and samples with scratching by DJ Davey Dave. Each swing of !Q!'s arms sends shockwaves through the crowd, visibly affecting the equilibrium of any individuals in his line of fire. DJ Davey Dave creates sounds that directly evoke rapid twitch muscle response from the listeners tuned to the frequencies he is emitting. The vibe erupts. As Uberzone relentlessly pounds and tickles the crowd, the energy escalates to the point where dancing is futile - your only hope of staying in the cradle of the vibe is to bounce into the air to the beat, that brain stimulating, spine bending, break-beat. I look around and see all arms raised high, with hands snapping at the wrist to match the bass that is controlling everything in the moment. We've all given ourselves over - we've all been broken. There is no doubt in my mind that on that night Uberzone solidified their status as icons of the genre and break-beats solidified its status as the hottest genre of electronic music at the 2004 WMC. back to top |
"Eight-dollar beers, a couple just got caught fucking in the bathroom – it doesn’t get any more Miami than this!"As Monday rolled around, eyes got heavy, legs got weary, but spirits were still soaring and the quality of events was still peaking. The day parties were still maxed with high-caliber beats – Mazi’s Rest Relax & Recover BBQ had Heather and Halo, Masters at Work were throwing down at the Opium Garden, and the BPM Boutique was housing the Renaissance posse while Sander Kleinenberg and Phil K got ready for their event at Nerve that night. The Tronic Treatment party was primed to blow the roof off Privilege, and boy did it deliver. With a jam-packed lineup of global techno heavyweights ready to flex their muscles and only about an hour each on the decks, every jock was ready to terrorize the frenetic crowd. Misstress Barbara laid down an absolute barn-burner, but no one could compare to the four-deck madness of Spain’s Cristian Varela – Varela is known to rock three decks with ease, but this four-table fiasco left even the most seasoned chinscratchers with jaws dropped and heads fried. Switching between dizzying loops and skull-fucking dungeon beats, Varela turned the main room into utter madness. Maximum intensity was in surplus at Tronic – and that’s the only way they’d have it. Then, it was on to the most exclusive and sought-after event of the past couple WMCs – Danny Howells’ extended-set extravaganza at BED. The hype surrounding this event, and the difficulty in gaining entrance seems to grow every year – but what also grows is Howells’ versatility and composure behind the decks. But Made in BED III again delivered, and the only way to document this event is to once again wander out of the realm of ambiguity and give you an hour-by-hour account of the event: 10:30PM – Talk about the zoo of all zoos. I realize at this point that having an invite-only party at a 350 person capacity venue kind of loses its purpose when you invite 2000 people! There’s already at least 500 people in a tightly-wound pod surrounding the door, and no one’s budging an inch. Rumors start circulating of $170 bottle service at a minimum for entry, and the crowd, as well as the staff, starts getting restless and arrogant. The best line of the night had to come after some bozo tried to push his way to the front with two bimbos, yelling “I’m on the list!” The response immediately echoed out from the crowd: “We’re ALL on the list, asshole!!” Unless you are press or down with the Made or BED peeps, you are going to have to drop some serious coin to get access to this one. 11:30PM - Once we cross the threshold of the door, it’s as if all the anxiety of gaining entry just melts away. White satin, delicious food, happy people laying on the surrounding beds, and Danny already an hour deep into his set, laying down some sexy progressive. Howells wastes no time in making sure everyone gets their money’s worth, with a seven-hour set ahead. His outfit is some sort of Robert Smith tribute – shaggy hair, thick black eyeliner, and a Cure tour t-shirt – I almost didn’t recognize him at first glance. The venue quickly starts to fill up, and the anticipation of the night builds exponentially. It seems as if all the chaos of the beginning of the night fades into memory, as Danny helps massage our weary bodies and thinning patience with his mélange of electronic soul – the bartenders loosen up and even start to smile; the kitchen staff peaks out the swinging doors and begins dancing; and the smiles on the crowds’ face is unbreakable. This night has magic written all over it. 12:30PM – Aside from the large quantity of women inside, the star power of international DJs mingling amongst the crowd is mind-boggling. There’s no VIP area in BED – punters, promoters, industry, bar hops, bartenders and DJs are all one inside this cozy venue. Carl Cox is sitting cross-legged, shoes off, right by the booth, surrounded by lovely women…Sasha working his way through the jammed hallway from the bathroom to the bar…Digweed behind the booth enjoying a good laugh with his mate Howells… Ali & Sharam from Deep Dish hang out near the booth most of the night…the laundry list of DJs here to pay their respects and come watch Danny’s magic just grows and grows as the night wears on…Lee Burridge, Max Graham, Hernan Cattaneo, Bill Patrick, Armin VanBuuren, Mauro Picotto, Sander Kleinenberg, Satoshi Tomiie. The thing to realize is they aren’t here because of the prestige of the event itself – they’re here as admirers and friends, just like the rest of us, to hear where Danny takes his set and the night. It’s a testament to the depth of Danny Howells’ talent. 1:30PM – The density of the crowd is starting to reach sardine level, when I turn around to see a flashlight in my face, and a crusty badge on someone’s sleeve – the fire marshall’s here! Firetrucks out front, inspectors inside – about the only thing that could possibly break the ice-cold stare of the hard-ass BED security guards is the menacing presence of the fire marshals that could stop this epic party in a heartbeat. The door was shut down from that point on, and the crowd level remained at a tolerable, dare I say comfortable level – room to dance and move amongst the crowd makes this party even better – of course I’m saying that because I’m one of the lucky hundred that made it inside…. 2:30PM – Playtime is over, folks – Danny whips out the tuff tech-house – fists in the air, bodies jackin’ everywhere, euphoric screams from the undulating crowd – this party is the definition of crackin’! Eight-dollar beers, a couple just got caught fucking in the bathroom – it doesn’t get any more Miami than this! 3:30PM - Howells lays down some tracks that could only be described as techy break-beat – this is the kind of hybrid EDM makes his appeal so broad – tonite I’ve heard four-to-the-floor house, progressive, tech-house, electro-tech, and some rekkids that defy all boundaries and genres - all mashed together, yet programmed so flawlessly that you can never quite keep your eyes or ears off the booth. The vibe in the room is unbelievable, and the one having the most fun is Danny himself – smiling, laughing, constantly interacting with the crowd – snapping a picture with a gorgeous woman here, hugging his superstar DJ friend there, yet never losing his focus on blending his tracks efficiently and perfectly. 4:30PM – As the party winds down, the remaining legions surround the booth, waiting on Danny’s every move, every record. The place is still as filled as it was at 2. But no 7AM lights-out this year folks - not with the fire department’s presence. We all ponder the end of such an epic evening, while savoring every last morsel of the vibe and incredible music. He ends with a Bjork remix of Blue Monday by New Order – a monumental track that brings the night to a blissful end, like a final sip of espresso after an exquisite ala carte meal. I board my plane three hours later, stars in my eyes, beats still ringing through my head, and the impressions of an unforgettable evening indelibly etched on my soul. Danny Howells at BED – every bit the legendary event it has become. back to top |
"We Rest and Give Thanks..."Special thanks goes to the amazing hosts who made these events truly one-of-a-kind: Hinmahtooyah - thank you for opening your home and your life to me - your spiritual guidance and positive influence is boundless; Laura de Palma at Made; Joy at Champion Sound; Matt, Rob and Cristina at BPM; Natalie, Paolo and Pip at Crobar; Nelson Fernandez from the Miami Meets Detroit BBQ; John Wander at Roam; David Prince, Lori and Mazi from Gourmet Recordings; Pauli P; the Orlando techno peeps; Brad, Daniel and Brian; Lady J at the Joint; and last but far, far from the least, Tommy Diesel. And most importantly, our friends who shared this experience with us and who matter most to us - Hinmahtooyah (again), Bill, Anna, Melissa, Joy (again), Denise, Ben, Diane, Sylvita, ConBonita, Gin, G-Orgy (my fishing buddy), Nikos, Shawni, Mea, Clayton, Gene, Polgar, Nikos, Drew, Tone Balone, my prima Lorena, Buffalo, Comes Out Honorable, Rock Dee, B. Oakley, djk, and anyone who we forgot - it was a long week! back to top |
"...adrenaline, seratonin and endorphins mixed in some biological cocktail"SuperJane - Guest Editor: Muppet Warrior. Never have I been more pleasantly confused in my life when it comes to women. I arrived at “Are We Tight Enough for You?” at Blue and was immediately slapped across the face by Dayhota - she was on the decks, tearing it up in her usual style – jackin’ like mad, and talking mad shit to the crowd with the rekkids she was droppin’. Needless to say, I was dazed. Five full days at the Conference already had my mind playing tricks on me – now I had a full night ahead of four royal house divas taking turns rocking my mind and body, four-to-the-floor, ChiTown-style. The ladies of SuperJane had wrecked shop up and down South Beach all week – from Lady D’s D’Lectable Records party at the BPM Boutique, to Heather holding it down at every can’t-miss house event, and Colette – damn that girl was everywhere. Now I was witnessing Dayhota, glowing white hot, luring me in. Just as I began to float toward her and the music, I saw her removing the headphones and handing them over to Heather. I was heartbroken…for about 2 tenths of a beat. My gaze was now fixed on Heather, ready to now give my love to this new diva behind the decks, but she was playing hard to get. Teasing me with techy beats and synth lines that kept my mind reeling trying to keep up. I would humor my ego and imagine that Heather was casting a coy glance or two up from the tables, but the truth is she was just doing her thang. This became readily apparent when she too proceeded to slap me across the face! Heather then put a musical headlock on me that there was no escaping from – technical perfection in her mixes, wrapped in a style of intense dedication to the beat as she rocked side to side to the pounding pulse of the track. She must be my favorite. But wait…wait…where was she going? Who’s this…ahhhh sweet, sweet, Colette. Bitter as was Heather’s departure, far sweeter was Colette’s arrival. As Colette took over, a hundred pulses in the room slowed and accelerated at the same time. Siren songs, emitted without effort, bellowed through the room, lifting my spirit to the heavens. This coy, seemingly quiet diva, whose haunting voice climbs clearly over her throbbing beats…who needs Orpheus, when you have Colette. She must be my favorite, she must. Then suddenly… bam…she slapped me across the face too…twice! She suddenly rained down thunder upon our heads with a track that was somewhere between the rumble of an earthquake and a demon’s heartbeat, causing the crowd to instantly surge with adrenaline, seratonin and endorphins mixed in some biological cocktail. “That’s it - I’m done, I’ve found the one, Colette is…”…handing over the headphones? On came Lady D, finding me in a state of enamored confusion. She took pity on me and cradled me in loving arms, playing deep and soulful tracks that made me warm all over. She presided over the room with a presence of confidence and grace that kept me mesmerized. Her music all the while playfully…slapping me across the face. This tag-team musical barrage continued through the night, keeping me spinning in circles, with no idea where I was or where I was being taken by these musical seductresses. Whether they were spinning solo or standing united and chanting out anthems, they were always commanding the attention of the crowd, who gave it willingly. At the end of the night all I could do was go outside, smoke a square, and rub the side of my face – cause the lovely ladies of SuperJane made it hurt so good. Ahhh...the ladies of SuperJane. Can’t dance with ‘em, can’t dance without ‘em….luv ya girlz back to top |