Into the Afterlife
My solo West Coast trip into electronic music's most transcendent tour.
I’m at a point in my life where I’d rather be at a music experience than anyone’s wedding, a birthday brunch with a dozen people or a party filled with friendly acquaintances in D.C.
Even if it means doing it alone. Or perhaps especially because it can be so.
Music has been an intrinsic part of my life since I was a child and my mother signed me up for violin and piano lessons before I took up the alto saxophone on my own in grade school. Band geek, indeed. I recall sitting in my home’s “computer room” growing up and recording new releases from VH1’s Top 20 Countdown on a cassette tape with my handheld Casio boombox, allowing me to play my favorites relentlessly and obsessively on my mustard-colored Walkman without having to buy the full $18.99 CD from “The Wall.”
My tastes have invariably changed – from Cyndi Lauper to Dave Matthews Band to Kanye West and Flume – but music has always been my dopamine, a stimulant that transports me away from the mundane structure of the days to a fantastical playground where reality’s anxieties are suspended temporarily and replaced with anticipation, hope, beauty, and occasionally meaningful melancholy.
So when I was belatedly granted a media pass for “Afterlife,” my current melodic techno obsession featuring the Italian DJ duo, Tale of Us, I knew I was getting my ass on a plane to Los Angeles, even if I initially hesitated due to the cost and the cross country travel time.
I’m currently in a prolonged electronic music phase and more specifically, my ~melodic techno phase~ and Afterlife’s combination of other-wordly immersive visuals and symphonic dance cadences has lured me into a deep fanatical fixation.
View it HERE on my Instagram or HERE on my TikTok
And while it could’ve been an additive to have a similarly obsessive sidekick, I didn’t need to be accompanied by anyone to make last weekend’s venture. The music is your companion, the experience is your date.
The venue was Los Angeles’ State Historic Park, a beautiful strip of greenspace at the northern end of downtown, or as locals call it, DTLA. I entered the venue just before 5 p.m on Friday, with the sun’s assertive West Coast blare generating an unseasonably warm 80 degree October afternoon.
The show would span 7 hours in total and usually a smart festival-goer paces his schedule by forfeiting early set times.
But Kevin De Vries, a German DJ whose quick rise through the techno ranks matches his high-energy stage presence, was on early and a must-see for me. The crowd was light but friendly and fully immersed in his performance, as was I.
Electronic music fans are, for the most part, friendly, kind and considerate humans, save for the smattering college boys crowd whose goal is often to get smashed and unfurl their bodies with disregard for anything in their wake. Festival goers of all ages are also prone to ingesting substances that enhance experiences, making the lights brighter, the strobes warmer, the approaching drops that more euphoric.
As I was jiving to De Vries, a younger gentleman approached me and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you from LA?,” he began.
I explained I was from D.C. to his surprise.
He grew comfortable and friendly and made more small talk before getting to his point: Did I have any extra ~paraphernalia~ I could share? He and his buddies had run out.
I did not have extra. I had a half triangle of a melting mushroom psychedelic chocolate in my pocket that would be impossible to distribute beyond one person.
The guy didn’t push, but his query left me with two questions.
Did I look like a drug dealer?
When should I take my mushroom?