Movement DEMF 06

-Amy Arena

Each year we nervously expect the festival to be a bit more tainted because of advertising and security, something virtually absent at the Detroit Electronic Movement Festival’s (DEMF) conception. Each year we spend way too much time at after-the after-party parties and drag our tired rumps into the hard-thumping 808 frenzy around six PM. Hung over and barely able to talk we wander aimlessly looking for a leader until some rhythm snatches us from a hollow existence and fills us with awe and giggles. We then forget about the nasty DJ ego we’d just encountered and we surrender to the giants in the industry as they manipulate us with music.

Standing behind the main stage while records shifted to change up the action, Donald Glaude seemed to animate an onslaught of bobble-heads from below. I smiled in this brief moment as I relived memories from “festival” in the past. The three-day party, returning to the trademark, Movement, changes names and promoters more frequently than Jennifer Lopez changes partners, but remains one of the most-coveted concerts for the electronic underground to emerge into the light. The coordinators of this year’s event had a strong affection for German techno, but local performers and Hip Hop DJs were hardly overlooked and the crew tried to provide a square meal to all sonic children.

What once was the world’s largest free electronic music festival by chance has perhaps become one of the most well organized, brilliantly cross-promoted events I’ve seen in the world of dance music. Fortunately, for this year’s performers, Detroit provided a hail-free, storm-less weekend never seen before at these festivities held alongside the Detroit River at Hart Plaza.

Although the new promoters, Paxahau, got very lucky, the ambience still didn’t touch upon the pure magic that Carl Craig’s and Carol Marvin’s first attempt did in 2000. Ticket prices had gone up from zero to $10 per day last year, and up to $20 per day this year. The price hike, and perhaps the heat, kept the crowd down to a very comfortable, yet massive dance party.

On Saturday I arrived in good form slightly after 4:00PM at this year’s Movement festival. Heading straight for the Real Detroit tent I wondered how we were all to survive in the thick heat that was surely smashing in smokers’ lungs and leeching dancers’ hydration. That didn’t, however, stop me from idiotically shaking to Latin rhythms in my high heels and sun-flowered mini-skirt to the sounds of the Amalgama Crew from Puerto Rico. Ubiquity’s John Arnold kept the heat rising with his full-throttle dance set. The dark broken beat with punchy horns and tribal beats got everyone moving.

Among the record obssessors, the talk of the day was about Magda on the Beat Port stage while nostalgiac ravers headed out to the river to see Doc Martin on the Pyramid Stage. I was committed to the Real Detroit stage that highlighted up-and-comers like Szymanski and Edwin Fabre. The final showstopper was Jeremy Ellis testing out all new Freestylistics on a crowd stupefied by his MPC drum machine antics.

The next evening, the temperature certainly made for better lovemaking and the crowd seemed thicker to me than the night before. Down in the pit of the mainstage, there were more bare feet dancing in streams of beer mud than I’d seen since Jerry Garcia was alive. The lawn by the river was more than covered in “grass” as well. Attractive names seemed to invade the Beatport Stage that day with sets from Starski and Clutch, John Acquaviva, and DJ Godfather/DJ Omega.

Using a tent situated alongside the Detroit river and that boasts a lovely view of the Renaissance Center instead of the seated amphitheater this year, the vibe for remembrance could have only been more perfect if the sound gave justice to J-Dilla’s earthquaking bass tones. Artists from Stonesthrow records were heavily represented along with many Detroit Hip Hop producers and emcees on the Pyramid stage that provided six hours in honor of the legendary beat maker, J Dilla.

On our final day there, we were lucky enough to catch some good-old-fashioned house music by Louie Vega and a smidgen of the much talked about Blaze took the stage. Back on the Main Stage, the screaming German industrial band Nitzer Ebb abruptly struck out after Derrick May’s extended pure, Detroit techno set. The group performed in stark black and stared coldly while screeching the lyrics, “And it hurts.” I would have much rather stayed to see Richie Hawtin who was closing out the Mainstage and also ending the entire Movement that night. I, however, had another party to go to.

With nearly one hundred-fifty acts spread across five stages among three days to catch within the gates temporarily imposed upon Hart Plaza, there’s no way I could possibly pay respects to them all, until now. Much respect.