Three performances that break through the rigid zoning plan that the contemporary club-culture has imposed on the dance-floor with elegant ease. Kit Clayton (US) achieves that with boundless percussion fantasies, Funckarma (NL) with ingenious, jolting post-techno and Speedy J (NL) with de-segregated music in a performance that is sophisticated and above all good to listen to. This night also features Miss Kittin (FR) and Lady Aida (NL).
Sound in Sync, a report by Nadia Palliser
Arriving late, by the time we entered the high-pillared club the industrial zoom of Funckarma had rapidly been swallowed into Speedy J's monotonous techbeat. In one ear and out the other, it was perhaps the setting that impressed at first: Now and Wow, at the edge of the Maas, is a pretty monumental space of about a hundred metres long with high ceilings and cool pillars to lean against. Sucked into the three huge screens to the left - minimal digital aesthetics flared throughout, disorientating the darkly clad and still docile public. Between screens and low-seated lounging, the hazy atmosphere seemed to exude obscure electronic sophistication. In the corner, bathed in soft light, Eric Hobijn's Chemo-Bar attracted much attention, a theatrical laboratory of scientific bottles and distillery equipment in Frankensteinean style. Underneath stood a revolving table around which chemo-visitors - a little fearfully sipped their smoking red hot test tubes: garlic vodka mixed with Tabasco and a little dry ice, mysteriously moving at the bottom of the tube. The Chemo-Bar seemed more of a ritual than a drink, quite contrary to the bar on the right behind which the boys in white tight t-shirts stared a little incomprehensibly at the dark scene of low-profile techno-hoppers. Smitten with Miss Kitten, time finally stretched to the groove as the dance floor let its hair down: a seductive sound spread as the hard-edged techno jumped a beat between new school funk and low rhythms. Without a trace of house-euphoria, the groove levelled just above the head and apart from the occasional geek with sunglasses and the baffled Ibiza groupie, the crowd was well
almost smoochy and absolutely in tune with the music. Lighting up the grey haze of electronics, there actually was a little funk at DEAF_00. As the pitch synchronised with dancing feet and quickened heartthrobs, the ambiguity of machine times dissolved, if only for a second. As much as we might be slaves of a multitude of time-based machines, from gadget mania to networked hysteria, every once in a while, we might just happen to live in synch, a coincidental master of ones own rhythm in tune with the machine, if only on the dance floor. As the time slowly panned out between night time scenario's and morning fuzziness - Lady Aida's turn at the decks rewound the space to a trance-like slowtime -- with the public fraying and the lights less exuberant, it was time to go.