For me, techno terror is best executed within the roaming grounds of Amnesia, so it's quite the shocker to divulge to fellow dance pilgrims that I still hadn't been on the receiving end of a Music On spanking. Papa Sven and his Cocoon clan or Loco Dice and Maceo Plex with last year's HYTE debut were the ones regularly belting my backside with the brutish stuff, and finally, 12 months on, I was baring my pink flesh for Marco Carola's whip.
Carola is one of a handful of Ibiza's leading underground front men who seems to possess telekinetic powers over his legion of residency addicts - he could sample in something bugged out, like 'I'm A Scatman' and pull it off no bother. I already knew the opening would be mental and that fact was reinforced when I got a warning to get in the line before 1 AM. After a 30-minute wait in the queue boosting the stamina on banana snacks, I was through the doors to muck in with Music On's devilish diners.
Five minutes in, cruising between both rooms for a deep inspection, I got a near instantaneous feeling for the bursting bubbles of fervor that Amnesia houses each and every Friday. You'd have to be a special kind of emotionally backward not to be bitten by the ecstasy and intensity that is dancing on, from what I could see, nearly everyone's faces. Apart from a few a cuddles with some familiar faces and a helpful pat on the back from a stranger to ease my cough infection, it was a solo mission for me and I thought the mixed crowd was absolutely spot on for a mingle.
The terrace was close to bursting its banks by 2 AM with Leon digging out the detonators, including Detlef's bumper 'Beat Won't Stop' and Trikk's carnivorous track 'Proto-Rhyt'. Diving into the main room for a killing with Detroit machine, Stacey Pullen, I was chucked through a tunnel of lean, jerking techno that has you struck down as a victim of severe face sweats. Paco Osuna always seems tuned into my music thirst and the telepathic link was connected throughout his beastly set of beefed-up weapons. Between both rooms at this point, the tunage was running on parallel tempo, with the main man himself, Marco Carola, giving his skillset an airing. To go back to the atmosphere this place packs in for Music On, it takes a leap into burning territory when he leaps on the control pad. Dipping in with samples from Green Velvet's 'La La Land' and JX's 'Son of a Gun', he did his job of leading thousands of clubber's feet astray into dance tripping domain.
How long can Carola's crusade continue was the question rolling about my mind, and no doubt everyone else's. Between 6.30 and 7 AM he shamelessly teased us a good number of times by fading out the beats and giving a clap to his charmed crowd, only to then bring back in a little thunder. But, by 7 AM our ears were pulled and we were out in the sunshine deliberating whether or not to head to the after party. And as I type this last sentence, I have no doubt the action is still raging on at Cova Santa.
WORDS | Aimee Lawrence PHOTOGRAPHY | Amnesia
