It seems there is a new genre gaining popularity quickly. Or you could say it’s making a comeback. House music has officially returned to dance floors, captivating not only a throwback audience but also young souls that are growing tired of the homogenized sound streaming into “house music” clubs around the world.
When I say house, I don’t mean electronic dance music: I mean the kind of sultry house music that Miguel Migs played when he turned the lights down really low and transformed The Loft into a sophisticated den of musical soul and sex last week.
In case you’re wondering, it was exactly as red-light special as it sounds. It was perfect. And people had so much fun that promoters probably went home and e-mailed every other DJ like Migs before even kicking off their shoes.
Photo courtesy of Dj Rescue
Fortunately, they snagged DJ Rescue (real name Brian Hein). The Colorado-born, Bangkok-based DJ sounds a lot like Migs, and that’s because he pretty much started deejaying because of him. That happened in the late 90s, and Migs still inspires him so much that even to this day he is still playing music from that time. Migs is the perfect example of someone who is adept at changing with the times while staying true to the scene he loves, Rescue says.
Staying true is not an easy thing to do in an industry fueled by bottle-popping herds of wealthy sheep. Look at what happened to Mark Farina in Miami last year. The undisputable maker of mushroom jazz and kingpin of house music was asked to step off the decks after getting complaints from the table service crowd, who thought they were there to hear house music — commercial house music, that is.
Rescue says he doesn’t care: He’ll never conform. “If I’m not enjoying it, then I don’t want to do it,” he says. “I’d prefer to bring my sound to the true house heads around the world and stay connected to this scene I’ve been working hard in for so long.”
But just in case, to ensure that what happened to Farina doesn’t happen to him in a world full of affluent sheep with plastic power, Rescue keeps his sets fresh by ensuring they are musically diverse and technical. He is always mixing at least two — and sometimes three — tracks continuously and if it doesn’t cause dance floor mayhem, he says he tries new things until it does.
What pleases him most, however, is when dance floor mayhem breaks out because he’s dropped one of his own productions. The first time this happened, Rescue knew he had finally made it. “There are few things as satisfying as seeing such intense emotion on the dance floor, and knowing that it came from something you worked hard to create,” he said.
In the pursuit of dance floor mayhem in an international setting (and perhaps also of warmer winters), Rescue has been based out of Bangkok for the last six months hoping to make a lasting impact on the house music scene in Asia. It’s something he feels can’t be done with just a short tour. Who can blame him; most of us came here for “one year” and look at us now, still here. One thing can be said about those of us who just can’t seem to leave Asia behind, and especially those of us who find ourselves on Rescue’s dance floor tonight at Room 18 — we’re definitely not sheep.
■ DJ Rescue plays at That Dirty House tonight from 11pm to 430am at Room 18, B1, 88 Songren Rd, Taipei City (台北市松仁路88號B1). Admission is NT$700 and includes two drinks.
The canonical shot of an East Asian city is a night skyline studded with towering apartment and office buildings, bright with neon and plastic signage, a landscape of energy and modernity. Another classic image is the same city seen from above, in which identical apartment towers march across the city, spilling out over nearby geography, like stylized soldiers colonizing new territory in a board game. Densely populated dynamic conurbations of money, technological innovation and convenience, it is hard to see the cities of East Asia as what they truly are: necropolises. Why is this? The East Asian development model, with
June 16 to June 22 The following flyer appeared on the streets of Hsinchu on June 12, 1895: “Taipei has already fallen to the Japanese barbarians, who have brought great misery to our land and people. We heard that the Japanese occupiers will tax our gardens, our houses, our bodies, and even our chickens, dogs, cows and pigs. They wear their hair wild, carve their teeth, tattoo their foreheads, wear strange clothes and speak a strange language. How can we be ruled by such people?” Posted by civilian militia leader Wu Tang-hsing (吳湯興), it was a call to arms to retake
This is a deeply unsettling period in Taiwan. Uncertainties are everywhere while everyone waits for a small army of other shoes to drop on nearly every front. During challenging times, interesting political changes can happen, yet all three major political parties are beset with scandals, strife and self-inflicted wounds. As the ruling party, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) is held accountable for not only the challenges to the party, but also the nation. Taiwan is geopolitically and economically under threat. Domestically, the administration is under siege by the opposition-controlled legislature and growing discontent with what opponents characterize as arrogant, autocratic
When Lisa, 20, laces into her ultra-high heels for her shift at a strip club in Ukraine’s Kharkiv, she knows that aside from dancing, she will have to comfort traumatized soldiers. Since Russia’s 2022 invasion, exhausted troops are the main clientele of the Flash Dancers club in the center of the northeastern city, just 20 kilometers from Russian forces. For some customers, it provides an “escape” from the war, said Valerya Zavatska — a 25-year-old law graduate who runs the club with her mother, an ex-dancer. But many are not there just for the show. They “want to talk about what hurts,” she