Part of what made that special was, despite the debt to DJ/electronic culture, each act really aspired—and succeeded—in putting a live show that thrilled as a complete experience. Openers Yacht truly set the bar high: for one, they were coming off one of the most compelling albums in recent memory, 2009’s See Mystery Lights. Yacht is most thought of as something of a one-man band for frontman Jona Bechtolt, although that changed with the addition of vocalist Claire L. Evans on See Mystery Lights, which was the indietronica equivalent of Fergie joining the Black Eyed Peas, with the exception that the move actually produced incredible music. In their performance at the bowl, however, Yacht the band experience was anything but a shrinking duo of indie violets: Bechtolt (resplendent in James Murphy-esque white suit) and Evans were backed up by an eight-member dance troupe in matching black/white outfits and a many member backing band that including at times three percussionists; the drummer even performed a drum solo in a tux! Evans was wonderfully Robyn-esque with her deconstructed, geometric hair, clothing and dance moves, slinking akimbo like a principal dancer in a greed-decade Karole Armitage production. The band merged arch post-punk attitude with real grooves and homemade humor; the presentation evoked 10 percent Napoleon Dynamite, 20 percent Liquid Sky, 20 percent Liquid Liquid, 20 percent Shriekback, and 10 percent the disco grooves of Chic. (Chicback, anyone?) It was an amazing show, one that truly exceeded expectations: Evans and Bechtolt really held their own, not just as openers but also commanding the huge expanse of the Bowl’s stage.

Robert Palmer music-video girls were seemingly the theme of the evening: Chromeo came out to similarly attired back up singers/dancers in monochromatic outfits (Chromeo’s featured red and black – the colors of anarchy – as opposed to Yacht’s black/white costuming). The sounds were as retro sonically as they were visually—the Montreal duo of P-Thugg and Dave 1 evoked Prince and Hall And Oates in their litebrite computer funk: fat synth bass, vocoders, and sexy come ons ruled the roost – sings like “Tenderoni” turned low pastiche into high art. Chromeo’s visual motif of two pairs of disembodied female legs proved a fantastic visual, the gams glowing ominously in different colors; it was like Vargas meets Magritte, with a beat you can dance to on hits like “Night By Night” and “Bonafide Lovin’.” These dudes know their way around a strobe light, their percussion jams were totally infectious, when they sang “I Want My Chromeo,” to the tune of “I Want My MTV,” well, that’s when the universe collapsed on itself in a state of perfect convergence.

The Chemical Brothers headlined the event, as well they should, being rave royalty and all. The Chems have so many hits, in fact, they opened the show with one of their biggest, the Q-Tip accompanied “Galvanize,” which was accompanied by amazing blue light imagery and Chem Ed Simons exhorting the crowd by example to put their hands in the air. Surrounded by banks of tech that looked like they could’ve come from the Avatar set, Simons and Chem cohort Tom Rowlands proceeded to crank out one of the most epic and original hour and a half shows seen ‘round these parts in some time. While Rowlands and Simons attempted stage presence—walking to the lip of the stage, say, to engage the crowd—it wasn’t really necessary, as this was as close to a dj set as live music can be, and pretty much that’s the point. If anything, this was the utopian ideal of the DJ set vibe, albeit crafted with vintage synths and other winsome gear, not turntables. “Galvanize” proved an epic liftoff to one of the Chems’ best sets, which featured o.g. hits like “Hey Girl, Hey Boy,” “Star Guitar,” “Out of Control” and “Saturate,” but really came to life on songs from the duo’s new album, Further. Rowlands and Simons really do have one of the greatest, most colorful visual shows, with lasers and surreal visuals featuring robots, scary rave clowns and all manner of incredible, artful psychedelic imagery, but it was the analog swooshes and dives of new track “Escape Velocity” that put the “mental” in experimental. Yes, this was incredibly forward music, especially to play to a crowd of 18,000, but rendered with the scale so that the presentation made sense. Seeing the catalog of the Chemical Brothers in this manner, one realizes that they are not “rave,” or “electronica,” but really a timeless block-rocking genre unto themselves. As they exited to the words “Love Is All” flashing on the enormous LED screen behind them, it proved a fitting message to cap an evening spanning three different eras of sublime electronic funk. “You are all my children now,” exclaimed the Chems’ scary rave clown at one point in their set, and from the audience through Yacht and Chromeo, he was right. It’s always the Summer of Acid House when the Chems play, just updated for the present day, and tonight was no different…

To us, the Miami Winter Music Conference has always been about hanging out with friends in the sun rather than going to fancy parties full of cool people. For five years in a row at WMC, we’ve hung out with our Australian super best friends Infusion, did our gigs and went to parties that almost always sucked. After spending most of our nights going from party to party, queuing and dealing with heavy handed Miami club security, we’d usually give up and go somewhere full of healthy looking and well slept people to do more drugs and drink cocktails until we dropped—or got kicked out.

Around three years ago, we decided to have a few years break from WMC. We were completely over it, as our last visit almost killed us. At the time, we were in the middle of a North American tour: we dropped in on Miami, did two gigs in the daytime, then flew off to Toronto with Juice Aleem where it was around minus 10 degrees, did a gig there, and then flew back to Miami without sleeping to do another two gigs with Juice that same day/night. (Ouch!)

That evening we ended up in a posh penthouse party with Adam Freeland and friends, along with hundreds of horrible-looking, coked-up, aging models with melting plastic faces and tits. I decided it would be a great idea if we climbed from balcony to balcony (on the 10th floor, with a massive drop between each) with a powder fire extinguisher, which we decided to fire through the open doors of guests’ rooms. Sounds fun, right? But how the fuck do you get back to the party without getting beaten up by all the people that now hate you for setting off a fire extinguisher in their room? You try and climb down the ladder that goes all the way down the side of the building whilst on ecstasy, that’s how. Bedtime!!!

Anyway, this year, after our brief hiatus, we swore things were going to be different. I awoke from a sensible first night’s sleep ready for an afternoon of pool parties, only to find it was kinda cold and raining hard. Regardless, I dragged myself out of bed to meet the others (no Infusion this year) for an unhealthy breakfast of beef burgers and root beer; the next thing I knew, it was time for us to leave for Ultra, our only gig of WMC 2010 (Ultra is pretty much the only decent paying gig you can get in Miami, so we naturally said “Yes, please!” to the offer to play). We made our way to the stage through a sea of Dayglow ravers —we were the second act on that day, following the more than excellent Boy 8-Bit. The crowd was pretty small at first, but after three or four tracks the place was absolutely packed and rocking. Dayglow or not, those people know how to have a good time!

Once we were done with our gig, we had two choices. Option A: Watch our BFFs Alex Metric and Adam Freeland play their sets, or B: totally bail out on them and get some early evening sleep before a fun-filled evening. We went for option B. After a kip, we made our way to Jerry’s Diner for some dinner, then headed to our management company’s party to meet some friends—and then I don’t really remember much of the next five hours. I know we went to Annie Mac’s party briefly, then ended up at Space (an awful fucking commercial hell hole). At Space, we decided ‘beak’ is the best name for cocaine ever, and began incorporating the word into movie titles. Here are some examples: Beakless in Seattle, Twin Beaks, Beak Street, Dante’s Beak, Unbeak My Heart, Point Beak & Dr. Beak (Topical).

Around maybe 6am, we were on our way back to the hotel for some sleep when I got a call from our manager saying he was upstairs hanging with a big English pop star whose name I’ll refrain from using and that we should come up and party. Everyone else went to bed but Alex Metric and I decided to go up. Seven hours later, we found ourselves back in Jerry’s Diner (who serve cocktails 24 hours a day) with the aforementioned pop star, dreaming up the tabloid newspaper headlines to go along with her antics entertaining Miami’s finest by running into shops trying to steal sequined-covered clothes for me to wear. Bedtime!

I “woke up” later that evening, having missed the only sunny day of our three days at the conference. Once awake, I met up with Alex Metric, my Evil Nine partner Tom and his lady to try and eat some food before we went to a private party Metric was playing at. We were supposed to meet up with a big group of friends at Joe’s Stone Crab, but the thought of crab and a big group of people I’d have to talk to just made me want to puke. We went for Thai instead but that didn’t go down too well, either; we just sat there staring at our plates, trying to drink cocktails.

Temporarily, we got back in action once we arrived at the private party. Double beak!! Naomi Campbell was there…. Wow!!! The booze was free and Alex’s set was dope (he played a slow disco early set), but otherwise the party was pretty lame and full of twats; therefore, as soon we got appropriately shitfaced, we left to meet up with friends at the Mad Decent/Fools Gold party. The music sounded great as we hung in the queue, watching lots of good-looking kids walking out complaining about the fire marshals inside closing the party down. Once again, we were left with two choices—A: Go to bed, because we have a morning flight back to the U.K., or B: Go to P. Diddy’s party at his house that starts at 5am, to which we’d been invited. We went for option A, spending most of the next day at the airport reading everybody’s tweets saying how mad the party was at Diddy’s… About twenty hours later, I’m standing at my front door in Brighton, realizing that I’ve left my keys elsewhere and I cant get in to my flat or my bed—a fitting end to a hilariously typical Winter Music Conference. Bedtime!

Dirty Projectors’ appearance was notable for its unique venue: instead of a sweaty rock club like Spaceland, Longstreth and co. shared the stage with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the groundbreaking classical music group Alarm Will Sound (best known for playing and transforming unlikely sources like the music of Aphex Twin with classical instruments). The concert actually began with the L.A. Phil playing what one would assume were classical selection chosen in conjunction with Longstreth; they certainly shared aesthetic common ground. Two of the pieces in this program were for solo piano by the Eastern European composer Ligeti, whose irreverent, avant-garde compositions appeal to indie rockers with advanced compositional abilities like Radiohead and Dirty Projectors. The other selections were just as apt: a prelude from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde showed the melodic power and beauty inherent in such an individual composer. Conversely, the reading of Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite fit Dirty Projectors’ music to a “t,” but in a different way. Built of many interlocking suites and melodies, this Mother Goose, like Longstreth’s ambitious efforts, proved alternately playful, eerie, looming, eccentric, yet accessible. Ravel was probably the most mainstream establishment of these composers showcased, but this selection truly highlighted his unsung idiosyncratic genius.

After a brief intermission, the Dirty Projectors came on: Longstreth, along with vocalists/instrumentalists Amber Coffman, Angel Deradoorian, and Haley Dekle, entered the stage in multicolored hooded capes, ironically appearing as if they were ascetics hailing from the monastery of obscure indie rock. Collaborating with Alarm Will Sound’s orchestral lineup, the Dirty Projectors first attempted The Getty Address, a sprawling opera with a twisty, surreal Americana storyline; suffice to say, the main character’s name is Don Henley, and the official program reproduced a letter sent to the Eagles’ frontman when Getty was released as an album in 2005. If the absurdist narrative was hard to follow, the music proved wildly compelling. Longstreth managed a compellingly awkward, bouncy white-boy head nod as his deeply complex compositions were given a full orchestral treatment: textures of swing, free jazz, Wu-Tang-esque staccato hip-hop beats, and even beer bottles used as wind instruments brought the challenging time signatures, intergalactic harmonies, and almost early-Disney style melodies together. However “difficult” the piece might be, its sheer ambition proved intoxicating, as the passages displayed a quixotic, trance-like gorgeousness far outside pop music convention; in other words, the music was catchy and accessible, but via the most unexpected angles. Once Getty was completed, the Projectors performed an unplugged set featuring great tracks from the band’s incredible 2009 album Bitte Orca like “Temecula Sunrise,” along with a take on Bob Dylan’s “I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine.” The folkier, stripped-down instrumentation showed Longstreth’s voice to be a far more virtuosic and elastic instrument than on record, closer to the melodic gifts of Thom Yorke than the usual indie croak. Even more astonishing was Longstreth’s guitar playing, which came in deep focus in the stark arrangements: he’s often compared to African guitar greats like King Sunny Adé due to his fluid, uplifting melodic lines, but there was also something of the athletic beauty of Spanish guitar here, too. By the end, it seemed nearly every facet of this odd, kaleidoscopic genius was displayed, if not amplified. The standing “o” didn’t seem undeserved in the slightest.

Just a bit southeast, in L.A.’s indie-haven Echo Park neighborhood, Four Tet played his first Southern California show since releasing his acclaimed new album, There Is Love In You at the Echoplex. There Is Love In You is shaping up to be one of 2010’s most heralded releases: on it, Four Tet/Hebden merges the minimalist experimentalism and repetition of avant-garde classical, the fractured samples and endless delay channels of Intelligent Dance Music, the booming low end of dubstep, and straight up, four-on-the-floor dance music. There Is… is surprisingly accessible considering those influences, and Hebden’s recent previous releases, which were often terrible, somewhat incoherent collaborations with the jazz drummer Steve Reid. There is… finds Four Tet working in a surprisingly accessible mode without compromising his avant-garde approach at all: supposedly he road-tested the album’s songs in DJ sets throughout the past year, making sure they were dancefloor friendly. At the same time, innovation sprawls over tracks like “Angel Echoes” and the irresistible single “Love Cry”: these are haunting tracks pulsing with emotion, the hypnotic lure of the supple house beats and syncopated percussion drawing the listener/dancer to investigate their oddball, homemade charm even further.

On stage at the Echoplex, following a set by U.K. glitch wunderkind Nathan Fake, Four Tet played what on some level could be considered a traditional set. Largely focusing on There Is…, the performance definitely concentrated on Hebdan’s recent clubbier conversion, to the delight of the crowd, who grooved uproariously to every thundering kick drum. What separated Four Tet’s set from a conventional clubbing musical experience, however, was the sheer compositional intelligence and absolutely sublime, yet unpredictable, melodic sensibility Hebden brought to the proceedings. Unlike the rave multimedia backdrop of Nathan Fake, Four Tet’s visual presentation was fairly straightforward and light based—the evening’s psychedelic quotient stemmed from the music itself. His Afro turned purple from a black light, Hebden humbly tweaked a number of electronic devices on a simple table that could’ve come from Ikea’s kitchen department, layering sheets of bell-like echoes on top of each other, the relentless yet funky percussion holding the shifting shards of samples and sounds together like viscous cement. In an entertainingly post-modern move, Hebdan even started using his iPhone to add shimmering ambient twinkles that sounded suspiciously like the Brian Eno drone-tone app, “Bloom.” Sub bass booms, disembodied voices, plucked Asiatic melodies, and synthetic Moroder basslines rose in and out of focus from the dense soundscapes. It was a subtle yet thrilling, with Four Tet’s recent embrace of accessibility and danceable rhythm only making him seem more vanguard and adventurous—proof that, no matter what genre he attempts, Hebdan’s greatest skill is injecting the element of surprise,

Tabu Zombie and Moto take it to new heights. Photo by Jeremy Boxer

Some of it may be that it’s a London crowd who think they know what to expect by now and part that Koko’s become an excellent music venue but clearly the Pimps love to play as much and as hard as possible with Shacho agitator at the helm causin’ ruckus with the mighty powerhouse Midorin exploding right back with Akita bass maestro, Tabu Zombie and Motohari’s horn fury and Josei keyin’ it perfectly in sync right back and beyond !

Pimps up up 'n way up. Pic by Jeremy Boxer

Props to Toshio Matsuura for warmin things up nice like a UFO and GP and the Brownswood crew for another rockin’ WW10 celebration, well fit to follow on from recent Q-Tip and Mulatu and Heliocentrics scorchers, And never forgetting all of you in the crowd/s for the support !

Now me, i’m the lucky lucky fellow tonight who gets still some more Death Jazz tonight in Rotterdam when the Pimps will no doubt take North Sea Jazz by storm together with Shuya Okino’s Kyoto Jazz Massive live and Toshio Matsuura DJ set.

Click here for the Exclusive photo Gallery from our lens man Yev Kazannik who was up close last night.

mighty powerhouse Midorin. Pic by Jeremy Boxer

The other hipster-central place to be last week were the pair of on-the-dl shows performed by Nosaj Thing, aka Jason Chung, celebrating the release of his debut album, Drift. Nosaj has proven to be one of the most innovative beat technicians to come out of the axis of Low End Theory, the amazing club night run by L.A.’s electronic-bass emperor Daddy Kev. Low End Theory has been the axis for the funkiest, yet most adventurous, electronic music around, bringing together dubstep, hip-hop, techno, glitch and IDM under one roof like none other; artists like Flying Lotus were key architects of the Low End Theory movement. Famed UK DJ Mary Anne Hobbs – who largely broke basshead big names like Kode9, Benga, and Burial – even broadcast an episode her BBC radio show from there. Hobbs also spins Nosaj Thing constantly on her show, and he certainly puts his own unique stamp on Low End’s melting pot of sonics: the instant classic Drift rocks the booty bass for sure, but transforms it with inventive glitchery and an ethereally melodic compositional sense that evokes ambient masters like Eno and Aphex Twin.

Nosaj’s record-release party last week at Low End proved he’d indeed arrived: the place was so packed with hundreds of fans, the fire marshal shut down Nosaj’s thing twice! It was too banging for the authorities, for sure; intrepid partygoers who stuck around after the fuzz split, however, got to hear a surprise set from Nosaj homey Flying Lotus jamming and glitching with a jazz quartet! Nosaj continued to celebrate Drift’s release with an incredible party at Silverlake’s outpost of UNDFTD, absolutely one of L.A. greatest spots for incredible, ill, limited-edition kicks. UNDFTD even collaborated on a limited edition t-shirt commemorating Drift, recreating Nosaj’s name in their famous logo font.. Nearly 200 kids crammed in to UNDFTD’s storefront to hear absolutely slamming sets from Nosaj and Low End homey Gaslamp Killer, who proved they are as much rock stars as DJs with their crowd hyping. Seeing the hipsters getting down so shamelessly made it clear that, when it comes to fresh bass, L.A. is the place.

Woe to anyone in Southern California who tries to put on any sort of non-basketball related event on the night of a Lakers game during the finals. Even the electronic-music nerds couldn’t tear themselves away from the Lakers crushing Orlando Magic 100-75, as was evident to The Field playing to 30 people exactly (yes, I counted) last night at the Glass House in Pomona. Come all the way from Sweden for this? WTF? Isn’t Pomona a college town? Where were all the dorm-room producers? The blog-house DJ geeks? Are they secretly jocks, too? I mean, yes, one Field band member was sporting a beret, but that’s no reason to stay home (they are European, after all…). Sure, LCD Soundsystem/DFA main man James Murphy, sporting a white linen suit, was in the audience taking a break from recording his new album in Hollywood, but still…

Regardless, The Field – main man Axel Willner and an band alternating on bass, drums, keyboards and Mac – devastated the miniature crowd anyway with their lush modular synths, swirling surround-sound ambience, and sweetly nostalgic ’90s tribal house beats. Indeed, the Field’s channels were minimal, but hardly basic: hypnotic bass guitar drones built on layers of synthetic sound, and Monsieur Beret even rocked a xylophone, giving a whiff of a Steve Reich chamber orchestra as remixed by 808 State. It was a fairly kinetic performance, despite the fact that Willner left the stage for what seemed to be a bathroom break during a particularly thrilling synth arpeggio. The intimacy of the crowd and offhandedness of the performance felt appropriate to the meditative, intimate intensity of Willner’s grooves.

The crowd swelled a bit, however, for headliners The Juan Maclean, riding high with one of the year’s best albums so far, The Future Will Come. Excitement in the crowd could be gauged by the number of bearded trainspotters surreptitiously photographing Maclean’s amazing vintage analog synth equipment in systematic fashion – no surprise considering one of the greatest analog synth dealers ever, Analogue Haven is just around the corner from the club. Juan Maclean himself did not disappoint the beards, ripping amazing extended, deliriously funky theremin solos on tracks like “Give Me Every Little Thing.” Juan’s co-star Nancy Whang was also an effectively robo-human diva frontwoman, throwing angular shapes like she was starring in Liquid Sky and resplendent in ’80s vintage pastel jumpsuit. There’s nothing like a cool chick whose formative punk rock moment was high-end electroclash, and I mean that as a sincere compliment, with no disrespect, to paraphrase Whang’s other band, LCD Soundsystem, incorrectly. Live, Whang is in fact less Miss Kittin detached than she is on record, displaying a more Yoko Ono-ish emotive caterwaul, making the vibe a bit more punk rock than synth pop. The best part of the show, however, was the percussion orgy that seems to be a part of every DFA act’s live show – it’s one of the greater spectacles to become orthodoxy in the neo-pop pantheon. Juan Maclean’s great blog-house smash “Happy House” provided the ecstatic climax, with Juan’s epic space-synth workout showing he’s an M.D. when it comes to “doctorin’ the tardis”. Best of all, both Juan Maclean and The Field managed to actually rock truly danceable beats while making music that proves both challenging and humorous; small crowd or no, each band made sure there was a sweaty party on the dancefloor and the stage. All in all… so excellent.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Our friend Serkan’s Sunsplash Antalya debuted in Turkey this past week (3-10 May) and the roving Pure Evil was there to spread mayhem and joy and reports on how festivals can and dare we say should be :

Anyalya bloody brilliant !!!!!  – Just got back from Yoga with Jamie Liddell…. dancing with Gilles P and chillin’ in the sun with Stomin’ Norman Jay MBE. AMAZING event and amazing hotel.. it sure knocked spots off a muddy tent in Glaso fo’ sho… ONE REGULAR DAY IN PARADISE: Waking up going down for a dip in the sea, MASSIVE breakfast, bit of sunbathing by the pool checking out the stunning russian supermodels and their VERY old wrinkly boyfriends, then off to the Jamie Lidell workshop where he teaches us all how to get THE FUNK..Then a sauna to cool off, a bit of Yoga under the trees, a quick run up a mountain, bit of snorkeling and then a nap in the James bond style bedrooms with a view of the ocean.. Down to the beach for a spot of Norman Jay then Dinner then Dessert then Dessert again then watch the footy and then off to see an amazing turkish band called BABA ZULA with a small legion of belly dancers and then a late one in the disco bunker doing the crazy feet dance to Gilles Peterson’s crazy rhythms and then turning in for the night and having a threesome with 2 girl from Luton and ANOTHER belly dancer.

Excellent event thanks Serkan for everything…and look forward to year 2 next May.

If you missed this intimate one, be sure to book now for the Worldwide Festival in Sete – July 2 thru 5

The Cure and Robert Smith ending their long and strong by defying the curfew by 3 songs and yes, having sound and video turned off and being escorted of stage as the crowd became life long fans to Etienne de Crecy’s phenomenal live dance set in a 3 story high cube

to Throbbing Gristle’s (pic below) exciting return after 15 years to Paul Weller’s firey fountain of youth set to Groove Armada absolutely rockin’ their DJ set – um and that’s just Sunday. 2more days plus pics to come ! stay tuned

Watch out for an exclusive KSPACE.TV Behind the Scenes video of this Robert Glasper experience posting here soon and join us at Cargo for our next KSPACE.TV show with Seun Kuti & Fela’s Egypt 80 14/15 December – yeah yeah !

I highly recommend a rave smack down in the middle of a work week. I know that may sound a bit indulgent, but when you live in London music hedonism is allowed. Last night, Booka Shade brought the mid week pleasure of electro to the sold out audience at uber-lush KOKO in Camden. I couldn’t believe that by 10:30pm – half and hour before the Booka boys took center stage – the entire crowd were losing it in the balconies above, the bars between and the floor below. DJ Heidi warmed us up and had me waving “Heidi Heidi ooooh!” The projectors then cued in the neon lights and the dance heroes took center stage. Geisha beauties wallpapered the back walls that accompanied the high level octane performance. You just couldn’t stop dancing no matter what time you had to get up the next day for work.

Get Physical’s Lopazz (live) and Patrice Baumel will be at the K-Space Sessions in Amsterdam on October 23 – free admission so get there early.

Click here to view the embedded video.