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Ibiza: A Trance Lover's Diary
Reported by josie
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Submitted 08-09-04 22:27
What I did on my holidays, or, how to shorten your life by ten years. Find out how a London trance addict coped for ten days in Ibiza, on a mission to review every trance event on the island.
11th August
At last. We’re in Ibiza, and what the ‘clubbing capital of the world’ hype doesn’t prepare you for is how incredibly beautiful it is. At the side of the road, cicadas and lizards rustle in fields of olives, figs and grapes, everything a sultry dark green in the heat. Creepers covered in a riot of pink flowers swarm over whitewashed houses crouching on the slopes of darkly wooded hills. In the tourist areas, it could be anywhere on the Costa del Sol, but outside, it’s a different world.
12th August Cream @ Amnesia
11.30pm. Head across the bay to San Antonio on the coolest little ferry to a bar for pre-club drinks. Ladies, now pay attention. For good-looking men look no further than Bar M on the seafront in San Antonio.
Hot. Guys. Everywhere.
Yes, OK. I have a boyfriend. But in the words of Stanford Blatch, just because I don’t eat in the restaurant, doesn’t mean I can’t hear the specials. 
Conveniently, Bar M and Itaca next door also host many of the club pre-parties and put on free buses to Privilege and Amnesia, the two clubs situated out of town. The bus is hell – full of drunk girls, but it gets you there.
And so to Cream, and a live set from Nu NRG. I had no idea what to expect from a live set of electronic music. I had visions of Ross and his keyboard in Central Perk. People… sadly you must prepare yourselves. I am going to say disparaging, even critical things about this event. It was the only negative experience we had, and I’m just trying to be honest. If you can’t cope, look away now…
Amnesia is impressive enough looking – so big it’s a bit like being in one of those French hypermarkets where you can’t see from one end to the other. The DJ box is miles above the crowd, making it hard to recognise even faces you know well. It wasn’t clear who was DJing when we arrived and I was afraid to ask, largely because the door staff look at you as if you were something nasty deposited behind the sofa by the cat when you speak to them, even if it’s just to say ‘hello, I’m on the guestlist’. Whoever the DJ, it was a somewhat formulaic, dispassionate set. I recognised the Four to the Floor remix, Oakenfold’s Southern Sun, Chakra’s Home, and the Beautiful Day remix that was absolutely everywhere – in other words, nothing that set this reviewer on fire. Ok the ice cannon is cool, I’ll give you that, and the dancers are quite, quite beautiful, like caged thoroughbreds, but it takes more than window-dressing to impress a cynical old-timer like me. We left at four, and I guess it could have got good after that, but I wasn’t in any mood to find out.
To be honest, I dithered about criticising the world famous Cream at the world famous Amnesia, and then reasoned that I heard a darn sight more interesting at BBL, and I didn’t dither for a moment about being less than 100% positive about them. Most disheartening of all was the realisation that the club’s sole aim is to strip you of as much cash as humanly possible. It’s £35 to get in unless you pre-buy tickets, teeny bottles of water are six quid, and bottled beer is a whopping £7.50. You’re not allowed cameras, so that they can charge you for the club photographer to take pictures. Irritatingly, there isn’t a cash point, and they don’t do cashback, although with those prices, they might be better off finding a quiet corner for a mortgage advisor.
Our night began to look up when we get back to the hotel and make friends with a medical student on the beach, who has an exhaustible fund of hilarious stories involving alcohol and a big bag of ‘holiday’ dope. As the sun comes up, a friendly stranger points out a comet, a pale silent streak of light among the pink clouds. We sit in reverent silence watching it fade, while the sea laps quietly against the beach. It’s a proper Ibiza moment, and more than makes up for anything that’s gone before.
13th August Slinky @ Eden
The medical student and his mate, Taylor and I hit Slinky – a bargain compared to Amnesia at around twelve quid. Matt Darey is a guest DJ, and although he’s not playing tonight, being an absolutely splendid chap sorts out two VIP guestlist passes with two hours notice. It is definitely who you know. I don’t have particularly high expectations of the night… it is after all Dave Pearce, but it’s actually a bloody good laugh. The intros are big and noisy, the breakdowns are colossal, and you can’t be that critical of someone who brings Planet Perfecto’s Bullet From A Gun out of retirement. Eden is also a nice, small, friendly club, with little nooks and crannies to snuggle up in. Dave Pearce’s set isn’t the most sensitively crafted I’ve ever heard and the levels are a bit crude, but everyone, including me, is having so much fun they don’t care. All in all, it’s not the most sophisticated of evenings, but what Slinky lacks in glamour, it more than makes up in charm and enthusiasm.
Later, the four of us pass an extremely enjoyable morning on the beach, under the rising sun and under the influence. The conversations touches on such intellectual posers as ‘Lost Boys and Young Guns – the only good films of the Eighties?’ ‘ecstasy with alcohol –should there ever have been a rule against it in the first place?’ and ‘isn’t Sophie Ellis Bextor annoying’. I’m having a ridiculously good time.
14th August
Our new pals go home, and it’s gutting. Who are we going to play with now? They sit mournfully on their suitcases outside reception waiting for the coach. It’s too depressing to watch them driven away.
15th August Judgement Sunday @ Eden
Another surprise, with a really excellent, punchy set from the Judge, this time with the levels bang on (Slinky take note). Like it or not, I guess the big names are the big names for a reason. The place was packed, at least partly due to the Trophy Twins in the house room, and the atmosphere blissfully exhilarating. Judge Jules’ intelligent, skilful set included Tribute by Mr Sam Vs Tim Coltrane, Tiësto’s Adagio, PVD’s Crush, Mathy & MVI’s AM 2 PM, and a ton of other good stuff I couldn’t track down. Eddie Halliwell was supposed to follow but didn’t, for some reason, so we took an early bath and headed home. Starting to get a bit tired to be honest with you.
16th August
Sunburn 2: Josie nil. Tapas and beer.
17th August Armada @ Amnesia
We have a drink in Itaca, the bar next to Bar M. It’s jolly nice – big, comfortable, civilised sofas and a pool table upstairs, and a dance floor and intimate, jungly terrace downstairs. The performance artist – a very tall man dressed all in gold with a mask appears out of a side door and sneaks up behind me. I catch sight of him, and to my overworked brain, for a split second he looms out of the darkness like some gilt angel of death. I do a massive double take and almost have a coronary. The whole of Ibiza falls about in unseemly hysterics.
Nipping next door to Bar M to get the free bus up to Amnesia, who do we find doing a warm-up set but Mr Armin Van Buuren himself. And what a set it is – proper hands in the air, smiley trance. The best thing about AVB though is that he’s just such a good bloke. He’s absolutely charmed to sign Taylor’s Holland football t-shirt, and it’s so nice to see a DJ who clearly loves his job, and doesn’t look bored, or blasé, or jaded. The magic continues at Amnesia, which is positively transformed by an enthusiastic, atmospheric set. It can’t be easy for the DJ being so far away from the crowd and unable to judge individuals reaction, but I’m struck with a real feeling tonight of being part of something great. There’s a moment when everything almost stands still, and a kind of peace descends, and I experience a strong feeling of unity. Then again, I could just be delirious from lack of sleep and food.
18th August
Do nothing but grab a few shaky hours in the sun, try to eat and lie unconscious for hours in a darkened room with the air-conditioning on max.
19th August Cream @ Amnesia
Back to Cream for probably the biggest night of the holiday – residents Tiësto and PVD, and special guest Paul Oakenfold. We arrive at Amnesia to discover Tiësto isn’t appearing due to ill health, and Paul Oakenfold’s set has been extended to 4 am when PVD starts. Unsurprisingly, with the line-up it’s absolutely packed. I mean completely rammed, wall to wall. It takes about ten minutes to get from the door to a bar, and the heat and humidity are steambath-level.
In the end, Paul Oakenfold did an extremely good job. I’ve always dismissed him as being a bit commercial and housey for my taste, but he absolutely rose to the occasion and delivered a very polished set of well-considered trance. Admittedly I didn’t recognise a lot of it, save for that Beautiful Day remix, and that Born Slippy remix, but it was blindingly apparent why he’s the highest paid DJ in the world. Paul Van Dyk, my absolutely favourite DJ, then did the job for which God put him on this earth. He might be short and German, but boy can he mix trance. There’s a feeling as he puts those hands on the decks that all’s right with the world. I was enjoying myself too much to remember very much, but I can tell you that Buenaventura and Crush got bigger screams than any boyband. A precisely composed set like PVD’s also shows off the big, crystal-clear quality of Amnesia’s sound system at its absolute best. It’s hard to believe this is the same club and the same night that so disappointed on our first night out.
20th August Most Wanted Global @ Privilege
I sleep all day but by this stage I’m really feeling the pace. I actually don’t want to go tonight, but I’ve put other people to the trouble of getting me on the guestlist so I’ve got to.
In the end, we’re glad we make the effort, because Privilege, the biggest club in the world, is also quite simply the most stunning club I’ve ever seen. The path to the entrance snakes through steamy, exotic vegetation, uplit with green lights, while the outline of a conservatory soars above the club. There’s a vast split-level terrace with comfy chairs and little individual stone recesses lined with cushions. Inside there are full-grown trees, mythology-influenced sculptures, and a pool above which the DJ box is suspended. It’s also an older, more cosmopolitan, and more sedate crowd than anywhere else we’d been, many of who I suspect were there simply for the venue.
The trance was much more serious and to the point than anything we’d heard anywhere else – what progressive is supposed to be I guess. Certainly nothing so frivolous as vocals. It was also compelling and expertly delivered, and absolutely what you’d expect from Tall Paul and John 00 Fleming. I have vague recollections of Waking Up The Sun by Aquasource and Shuffle Royal by Escade, but as by this stage I was having trouble remembering my own name, I couldn’t swear to anything.
Unfortunately, after a couple of hours I’m really suffering, and sadly, because it’s a great night, we fall into a taxi. Arriving whimpering at the hotel, I shudder on the sofa for half an hour and then throw up. Rock and roll.
21st August
It’s our last day and I’m officially wrecked. We’ve been clubbing six times in eight days, I’ve been drinking pretty much solidly to take the edge off, and I haven’t eaten for about 48 hours. There’s a strange, far-off rushing sound in my ears and when I move my head my eyes can’t keep up.
It’s been absolutely worth it though. I finally made it to the white isle, and I made every minute count. It’s beautiful, and decadent, and the only destination if you’re passionate about clubbing and dance music. See you all next year.
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Other Features By josie:
It's the Generation game featuring Agnelli & Nelson, The Thrillseekers and Lange
Peach at Heaven: Reviewed
The Gallery at Turnmills: Reviewed
The International Indoor Festival at SeOne: reviewed
The double ender: interview with trance legends Darren Tate and Mike Koglin
The views and opinions expressed in this review are strictly those of the author only for which HarderFaster will not be held responsible or liable.
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