VIDEO: Thunderdome XIV, Episode I. Scroll down for Episodes 2 & 3.
We're still not quite sure how it all happened. Here's the Villa Victoria
Center for Arts, a
renovated church nestled in a charming South End nook, effectively hollowed out
and packed full of the latest rave technology: audio-reactant video projections,
holographic LCD screens, multiple bars, loads of PBR, limitless Red Bull.
THUNDERDOME organizer Mike McKay pulled no punches: Robotkid and VJ Matt Boch
of Hamonix fame working video screens, with DJs Baltimoder, Dev/Null, Mistaker,
and Number One Dad & Fred Mertz working the sound waves. Months in the making, their sacrifices given
and divine offerings made (mostly in the form of virgins and goat entrails, no
doubt) Thunderdome XIV blew the fuck up.
PHOTOS: Thunderdome XIV in 3D at Villa Victoria
Kids rolled out of side streets at ten sharp, fashionably
prompt and looking to rage. We spent several minutes trying to identify the
crowd demographic: Glam-crust? Hip-glam? Fashion-bro? Nothing quite fit. On
display was an amorphous, amalgamated style of everything Boston offers: Mafioso suits and rainbow
skirts, corsets and golden tank-tops, popped collars and skinny jeans. Inside,
the crowds massed and beats dropped. Hysteria commenced.
On the dance floor, which looked like a cavernous tribute to
DIY American Legion shows, couples and newly-mets held sloppy make-out seshes
in the corner while others shamelessly licked faces among the crowd. Seriously,
I saw a dude run up to a girl, lick her face and ditch. We imagine this
behavior was much repeated. From the pews, which spread along the top of the hall
in a theater-style semi-circle, heads stared in rapture at the masses below and
projections above: Spy Kids 3-D
mashed with Insane Clown Posse videos, pineapples and Motorola cellphones
bumping with the beat of the people. It was like a corrupted Zen dream: total
chaotic synchronization of the crowds-music-visuals. To paraphrase one of our
editors, kids were tripping balls.
Being responsible journalists, we put our cameras down
around midnight to partake in the festivities. We were on stage at one point,
waving our hands in the air like we just didn't care. Some chick stage dove. There was a rap
battle. Maybe? Our concrete memories collectively degraded with the passing of
time, which led to the brilliant decision of moving our asses over to the
after-party at Rise, where Red Foxx, Die Young, and David Day spun till the
early morning.
Rise after two a.m. plays like the goth party scene in the
last Matrix film: perception-numbing laser blasts. Flashes of brilliant white
light (which oft revealed the silhouettes of couples doing god-only-knows in
horrifically dim corners). Germanic, bass-heavy beats and vampires. Well, if
we're to believe the Blade trilogy, this
is totally the place where vampires chill. Our footage reveals a concession
stand serving red bull and skittles along with more flashing lights. Our
memories reveal little more.
- P. Nick Curran and Addison Post
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