Standing in the queue I can already hear the bass booming from inside, and it must be Caleb Calloway or Cuartero b2b Mar-T who are responsible. The people are flowing in at a steady pace but this will change over the coming hour as more and more clubbers flock to Amnesia for the pre-opening of HYTE. It is my first time in Ibiza, and the butterflies are well and truly fluttering in my stomach.
Upon entry I'm stunned by the noise coming courtesy of Cuartero b2b Mar-T on the terrace - their drops and rises insisting the crowd pay homage with flaying limbs. I'm eager to get involved and dancing takes over as I groove to metronomic claps and trance-like synths. The light show is powerful but not overwhelming; there is a structure hanging from the ceiling that houses an impressive array of blue LEDs, Amnesia's own construction for the season. I meander through the crowd on my way to the main room to be greeted by a screeching air horn, which is only alleviated by a truly terrifying bassline that rattles my bones - Caleb Calloway is in full swing and the dancers above articulate the groove perfectly.
I continue to explore the sprawling club that's now housing ravers in every nook and cranny. Up in the mezzanine I watch as Pan-Pot begin their set amid a stream of green lights that are rapidly joined by red and purple. They begin with incessant techno, a theme that will continue throughout the duration of the set. Over in the terrace it's time for Henrik Schwarz. He begins with a bang of high-end clacks that are soon followed by thumping bass. The music then slows to a steady groove with my feet diligently following suit.
Movement through the crowd has slowed to that of a dripping tap as the club begins to heave with revellers. The legendary Loco Dice is next on the terrace, and as he descends into his set a sole male dancer emerges seemingly out of nowhere, moving like a breakdancing Baryshnikov. The beats are steady, rising to full on, dirty techno, and the crowd is a healthy mix of young and old, well dressed and crusty, the tattooed and the unadorned rock together as Dice samples Samuel L. Jackson's biblical speech from Pulp Fiction.
Over in the main room it's time for Chris Liebing, who starts with some hard-hitting indulgent techno that the crowd goes wild for. Liebing looks like he's making the music with his body; ebbing and flowing over the controls as the red lights criss cross over the heads of the dancing populous. The sound reverberates through my entire body; my skin vibrates to what is the loudest neck-breaking track I've heard all night. Losing myself in the music I continue dancing until the end, and despite the name of the club I leave with no sense of amnesia, because this will be a night that lives long in the memory and one I wish to repeat throughout my time on this island paradise.
WORDS | David Fleming
