It was with great excitement when I heard inthemix’s Ben Kelly was gracing Brisbane with his divine presence at GPO’s Codebar. For this evening, the whole of the Valley was, in fact, in a noticeably vivacious state – people were swarming everywhere, their smiles prevailing beacons. Small bars were brimming with bodies and as doors swung open, pulsating tones of rhythms and melodies escaped into the night air, mingling with the chit chat as people walked down the street. The GPO was likewise teeming with party people, all determined to celebrate as they wandered the many rooms within GPO. Mickey greeted me with a pleasantly jovial smile at the front entrance, my arrival ushered swiftly up the stairs.

Beautifully dressed bodies with bright smiles an overload of accessories and coiffed hair clasped cocktails, female laughter ringing in the hallways with the many male voices providing a resonating droning undercurrent. And surrounding this celebratory patter was Brett Js riotous musical offerings. His bass lines thumped gloriously in rolling waves throughout the Codebar as repetitive melodies floated across the muddy rhythms and stampeding beats. The floor was perceptibly subdued, but there were still plenty of people sitting in the comfortable chairs and flanking the bar. The bar staff were industrious, flitting backwards and forwards as they obeyed orders for vodka, shots and other complicated alcoholic concoctions. Brett J’s music surrounded us all, gently taming our wildness and keeping our howling natures at bay. The place began to fill up as the stroke of midnight tolled.

Brett’s music remained passive and submissive – quite unlike his usual ebullient self. Sporting a load of facial hair (almost rivalling the hair peeping surreptitiously over his collar), Brett J leaned into the console; the lighting distorting his features into a wicked glare. The bass lines rotated in a brusque manner; their depth overwhelming and embracive. The rhythms were blaringly cyclic; the 4/4 beats imprinted upon the speakers and rolling across the room. Muted melodies carried across these rhythms and beats, seeming to produce a minimal and anticipatory hush upon the ever growing crowd. And then, with a great deal of eagerness preceding him, Ben Kelly stepped into the booth, usurping Brett J from the decks. As Ben adjusted his head phones, a sense of wilderness seemed to reverberate across the room. Rousing rhythms spurned the former lazy restraint, gathering into a fiercely ardent turbulence and then suddenly, the room was a mass of moving bodies and grinding feet.

Emotive melodies swathed about our heads, the frequencies piercing our senses and lifting us up to propel us into oblivion. Delerium’s “Silence” shook off any lethargy and embraced us as a group into a swirling of muted sensations. Heads shook from side to side with the immediate intensity that Ben unleashed upon us all, as Sarah McLaughlin’s vocals perforated our minds. Apparently, drowning is the most pleasant form of death; I could suddenly empathise with this as Ben’s music surrounded me and threatened to engulf my sanity; pulling me down into the musical undertow that he was inflicting upon us all. He moved immediately into harsh beats, the discordant 4/4 beats hammering at our hearts and influencing our bodies. I felt out of control, my body beyond my own mindful manipulations. My feet were exhorted to dance dance dance, as Ben’s music influenced my now departed wits. I was blissfully lost amongst the revolving rhythms and surging bass lines; the eddying melodies floating about my head and surrounding my perception. Hands reached for the roof, or even for Ben himself, as he sadistically exerted his psyche upon us all; pushing us all beyond reason, time and space. We were beholden to his power and influence, obliged to move as only he could wish. I wondered what psychic hold he had over us, to so crush our wills and devastate our aural perceptions. But then after a while, I couldn’t care less, as the music swept me up into a maelstrom of torrid emotions and rapturous rhythms. The room was a miasma soup of bodies, arms, and legs. The only wits that remained were likely coming from Ben himself, for our minds had deserted us at his very first beats. It was that kind of night, where thought and insight was insignificant amongst the penetrating bass lines, stabbing beats and buoyant melodies.

I left GPO in a state much akin to psychosis, Mickey cheerfully saying goodbye though I remained quite oblivious to the world at large. That Ben Kelly is a masterful musical magician with a supreme authority to command and influence remains unquestionable. Whether or not I have reclaimed my mind is indeed a different story. The image of Ben leaning over the console as the lighting warped his features remains impressed upon my poorly depleted mind – perhaps, my reasoning remains there still.

Love and Kisses, Lady Lex