My 63-year-old Dad reviews Tiesto's Pacha Ibiza opening party

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After a lucrative run at Privilege, the 2012 Ibiza season sees dance music’s top-earner Tiesto moving over to Mondays at Pacha. While the long-standing superclub no longer boasts a Swedish House Mafia residency, Tiesto joins a roster that includes Luciano’s Vagabundos, Erick Morillo’s Subliminal Sessions and David Guetta’s F*** Me I’m Famous!

Pacha is a considerably more intimate environment than Tiesto is accustomed to, but ‘exclusivity’ seems to be all part of the game-plan. Not so exclusive, though, that a group of curious 60-something holiday-makers can’t get up-close with the trouse hero. And so it was that my Dad spent a few hazy hours on the Pacha dancefloor witnessing ‘the famous DJ’ at his new post. So what does a dance music novice make of it all? Well, the feeling’s are mixed. Dad gamely offered up this review so ITMers can know the definitive verdict* on Tiesto’s new venture. (*Verdict may not be definitive.)

THE REVIEW

12:30am and the ‘around 60s group’ said, “Let’s go.” We had just finished dinner and further pre birthday celebrations and were ready to head to Pacha, when it was explained that no one would go that early – “nothing would be happening”.

At this point part of the 24-person-contingent returned to sanctuary of Villa Vella, while the remainder went to the next bar to enjoy a few mojitos and send a scout to find tickets for the club. Apparently it is not the done thing to buy tickets at the door. So about 2:30am, with our 45 Euro tickets duly purchased, it is deemed appropriate to head off, and taxis are arranged for the short distance, only to find a disappointingly industrial looking building which we are informed is Pacha.

When you go to the AFL grand final, or get a peak hour tube in London or Tokyo, there is a build-up to the crowd and an intensity that is overwhelming but expected. At Pacha it is an overwhelming transition from the banal exterior to the most overwhelming sensual assault of sound and light.

Tientso [sic.] (as we found out later was the famous DJ) was barely visible through the fog and intensity of the strobe lighting and frenetic floor crowd, with mobile phone cameras flashing as they moved (marginally) to what one of our party later described as a background beat likened to “the noise a ute makes with two flat tires driving along a country road”.

My impressions ranged from thinking this is an amazing sensual experience, to this is a fire trap waiting to happen, with crowd handling totally impersonal and bordering on unduly aggressive. As the effect of mojitos began to wear off a trip to the bar was voted in so we went upstairs to an unimpressive bar that sold water for 10 Euros a bottle (we didn’t ask about mojitos), and had stair access which would be frightening in a panic situation. Maybe the forceful crowd control was in order.

Back to the dancefloor, no possible room for movement, go with the flow, crushed glass underfoot, but a feeling of being part of an extraordinary energy generated by the sound and lights working in harmony. One of life’s worthwhile experiences…a resounding yes by the 60s and youngies alike.

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