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Paul Oakenfold im Pacha in Ibiza am 24. July
In Kürze: Legendary Paul Oakenfold played at Pure Pacha in Ibiza on Friday 24th July. This was Paul's only date on the island this summer and he was playing alongside resident Sander Kleinenberg, DJ Ouzo, & Tre.
Vollständig: Legendary Paul Oakenfold played at Pure Pacha in Ibiza on Friday 24th July. This was Paul's only date on the island this summer and he was playing alongside resident Sander Kleinenberg, DJ Ouzo, & Trevor Nelson.
Pure Pacha 24 July 2009
Chandeliers float elegantly above an impenetrable fog of dry ice. It puffs away in a cool breath letting the light fall on a sea of upturned faces. “This is Pure Pacha!” Sander Kleinenberg whoops from the DJ box, raising both fists in salute. The girl next to me bursts into a flurry of elbow-popping motion as Sander slams on a remix of We Are Your Friends that thunders across the dance floor like a charge of the Valkyries. Pure Pacha is the quintessential Friday night party in Ibiza – a mélange of music, spectacle and moments that simply wouldn’t happen anywhere else.
Tonight the sense of anticipation is as thick as the smell of cologne because none other than Paul Oakenfold is due on the decks soon. One of the original superstar DJs, Oakie “discovered” Ibiza in 1986 and floated back to London to kick-start the acid house revolution. There is a gradually thickening clot of clubbers around the DJ booth, edging closer in anticipation of his set. Even Sander seems to have caught the fan-club feel, skittering around the booth like a hyperactive kid, clapping, giving a photographer the thumbs-up, pouring champagne. Suddenly a boy dives past me, camera phone aloft to snap Oakie descending upon the DJ box.
He has flown in for the night from his “day job” as Madonna’s official tour DJ. A lot of DJs probably wouldn’t bother taking the time to play for a couple of thousand fans after rocking stadiums night after night, but the huge grin on Paul’s face says it all: he’s home. A flutter of fingers reach upwards and he hangs over the edge of the booth to grab and shake the waiting hands. Sander lets the music drop. The lights lower then remerge on a trio of stunning dancers who slither up onto the podiums, trailing a sea of sequins as the crowd ripples with excitement. Alice in Wonderland never saw anything like this. A wooden hatch opens beneath the stairs and two waiters pop up like surreal rabbits, carrying vast trays of iced glasses and bottles of vodka. No one is paying any attention, though. Every ear is tuned in impatient glee for the first shimmying wave off sound to crash over the room. The bass rumbles as a looped vocal intones: “welcome to Perfecto.” A palpable crackle of energy sparks across the room and suddenly everyone who has come to remember forgets – forgets what year it is, where they are, mostly likely who they’re with. The only thing that matters is the music lifting the club to the stratosphere and Oakie bopping at the controls, controlling the speed and altitude of the flight. Someone reaches up to pass him a CD. He pulls a jokey pose behind the decks. For a few hours, 2009 can be 1989… a pure celebration of sound and motion.
(c) by IMD Team.
Dieser Bericht wurde am 16.08.2009 durch sven
publiziert.
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