This is Techno: Homecoming, reunion and the catharsis of revival

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The journey to “This is Techno” started with a spray of fragrance by Island Apothecary in Malé. Bergamot, cinnamon and warm spices misted on the hands of attendees by event organisers and chaperons. The speakers on the launch played Dhivehi cult classics. Fittingly “fini fini vaareyga” played as the seas slapped their best waves against the vessel. I think to myself, “dyslexicalien” would appreciate this playlist. By the end of the ordeal, I ask a fellow commuter their opinion on the journey. A solid 4 was the verdict. After a moment, he replies it could have been a 6 if it weren’t for the choice of music on the launch. Each to their own I think to myself.

...a dangerously bumpy sea commute of less than 30 minutes and I have arrived at Crossroads.

A security check and a short walk later I was tagged with some bracelets, in front of the venue named “The Insanity” to be let in. The crowd was sparse in the beginning. The show runners were warming up the music at this point. Afru, Autonomotor and Om:mega, youngest to oldest spanning from late 20’s to early 40’s. Two generations, three contemporaries. Mellow, ambient and welcoming. Cool and warm lights coat my face and entire being as the music sounds on the speakers. Absolutely mellow, soothing and a very mellow welcome indeed. Some bliss and escape from the hellhole that is my city. From the start, the sound was buttery and at an appropriate volume. Three staples of the Maldivian electronic music scene are going back-to-back, testing the waters with a funk-embedded ambience. Well-rounded moments warm the environment.

Most of the booked audience arrived from the scheduled commute by sunset. Family, friends and coworkers greet each other with delight. By this point, it was evident this was going to be a reunion of sorts; for the performers and audience of this culture in this limited space. Clusters of reunions with familiar faces, one upon another to gaze at. People are social animals through and through.

Right on time by 6pm, announced Autonomotor “This is techno”. This has been a long time coming. Afru took over, his tones bled inside the four walls. More people swayed to the melodies of electronic music. “Expedition 1 | Exit star gate” was a fitting title for the spacey and futuristic beats of this setlist. It was a subtly intense, insides broiling techno. Dark.

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I don’t know how else to describe this opening act other than you imagine you are the flow of soapy waters going round in cycles of circles inside your generationally aged top-loading washing machine. Both equally mesmerising with a sense of nostalgia. The nostalgia of growing up in a city that never stops with the sounds of urbanity, with never-ending construction projects. This subculture we danced to is a byproduct of our environment that nurtured us. Perhaps the nostalgia is also the waft of your grandma’s incense smoke that compliments the fragrance sprayed earlier on the day.

There was no space for thinking inside the cavity of your skull. Thoughts were replaced with music flooding in through your ears, enveloping your mind.

There was a sense of calm despite the volume of the music, a form of space for each one of the audience to move freely, minding their business mostly and sometimes dancing with other people in the crowd. Taking up not much space but just enough space on the dance floor to follow the music freely.

The dance floor was packed and in motion. The music had been in a sous vide since the show opened. The slowest boil of build up until “Yeah you! You’re losing you mind!” got looped. Out of the vacuum-sealed bag and onto a preheated skillet. Another delicious drop. Afru really took advantage of his time and space. The set was stuffed with substance, a sound that was tangible even when its clearly not, but in this moment you could hold the music that compelled you to move.

“Hissuthah hurihaa” began to trail in as Autonomotor took you to Expedition 2 | Confetti in the abyss. The melodies were about putting you in a hypnotic transfixion, picking up gradually. It was intensely reminiscent of peering into the cement mixer as it spins concrete with flecks of glistening shimmer. The transitions pulled you closer and deeper into a hypnosis of sorts. You could taste the music on your tongue and it nourished you so you may keep moving. Even through the intensity of being tossed into a musical abyss, Autonomotor dropped in in tasteful doses of genteelness that cut through the delightful harshness. Nonetheless, true to its word, it was techno with confetti flying around.

Autonomotor subtly switched up after he dons a Palestinian Keffiyeh. The set now called you in deeper, and soothed you even more. Entrancement never-ending. Homecoming for all the “hissuthah hurihaa” indeed. Autonomotor celebrated two decades of commitment to his craft and genre. Paying homages, multiple and meaningful throughout this homecoming.

Om:mega takes over by 10pm. Immediately the man poured cognac liquid flame on this dance floor, flambéing the people in techno. It was putting me in a vacuum of space and all that reverberates is techno transmitted. There was trust in this space and assurance that the music never stops. It was an all-encompassing and enveloping sensation. With the music, the crowd, and the build-up through storytelling. The fog machines cranked up overtime. Anticipations were high and the venue packed with no less than 200 people engrossed in the performance.

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Om:mega injected some wit as well. With a poetic choice of a sample by an iconic DJ.

“DJ, teach”

“Yeah?”

“Teach me a lesson”

Then the beat dropped with no mercy. There was not a single person in the audience unmoved, unaffected and indifferent. Catharsis in full absorption of what “this is techno” was serving. Om:mega often pointed up to the sky and looked at the audience with confidence in what he delivered. It was a joy to see this man’s joy and it was infectious.

One thing for sure was that all of the music and experiences melted in the furnace that fired through my mind as a collective and steady show. Time is clearly social construct because I believed Om:mega when he announced it was about to be 12 am when it was actually 11pm. The night carried on as scheduled on the clock and, as promised, in techno.

Pico held on for over 8 hours, mostly on his feet, complimenting the music with fittingly captivating, complimenting and cohesive visuals. Flow artists, Enburisenburi and Saatanu Sakaraai further delighted the eyes with spinning poi lights. Shout out to the visuals! The lights were not fucking my eyes up for once and I could keep them open throughout this show. And the sound had been good to me throughout. A revival and reminisces of techno through a kind and gradual reintroduction.

The water was complimentary for the attendees in a resort that charges nearly a 100 ruffiyaa for a bon aqua water bottle (quoting enburi senburi with this price). This is a shout out to the warm and friendly team behind this event. There was a sense of safety; people looked out for each other here, occasionally checking up and making sure their peers were having a good experience (from what I saw, nothing dramatically drastic happened and it wasn’t scary, fairly safe for the lone traveller like me, so I appreciate that).

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The show ended with another poetic irony. “D***ing Q***n” plays as the audience sang the lyrics bold and loud, in the counter culture of, resisting erasure by refusing to stop moving. Moving thoughts, limbs and spirits in mere hours. Restructure through movements. This show was merely an echo of urban everyday life; amplified, curated, and moulded into music that guided people to move. Decades of dedication to electronic music showcased tonight. “This is techno” was entertainment with education. Awareness on the departments of techno and the possibilities of dance music. With the hopes of growing cultures and building communities. Two generations offering a three-course meal of techno, that thoroughly moved an entire venue full of people. Homecoming, reunions and the catharsis of a hopeful revival.