A Guilty Pleasure
I know what a guilty pleasure is. Not just in theory, but in practice.
It takes a lot for me to skip Valmoor on a Thursday. If you know me, you know that. So when I don’t go, it comes with a certain weight. A feeling that I’m missing something I shouldn’t be missing. Which means I need a very good reason. This time, I had one. And it was pleasure.
The Snake Pit opened its doors and if you’ve ever wandered through Hera’s Blade Runner, Gigerpunk world, you must have seen it. It’s a place that makes you stop for a second and think: something should happen here. Something loud. Something a little unhinged. Or a lot. Yesterday, it did.
Hera invited us in for a fetish night and handed the controls to DJ Lili, who didn’t so much play a set as unleash one. Dark techno bled into cyberpunk, into heavy acid, into something industrial and it made all of us crawling over the floor and against the walls. It wasn’t just music, it was pressure.
Did I feel guilty for not being at Valmoor? Yes. Did that guilt make everything feel better? Also yes. Because this worked; the Snake Pit lived up to its name from the first beat to the last. We didn’t just dance, we moved differently. Closer to the ground, sharper, more instinctive. There was something physical in the way people drifted, circled, collided. Crawl, hiss, bite, repeat and in the midst of it all, Hera watching it unfold like this was always the plan.
It’s great when a space, a crowd, and a sound align like this. When they do, you don’t rationalize. You just stay in it for as long as it lasts. Last night was one of those nights. See for yourself.
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This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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