Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101 Jukebox in Siberia Shits Raining from the Sky.

y. So man, they make party down in Krimea, near Black Sea Space of Joy crew ok? Same as eclipse party people. Very om-shanti you know? Juha made a gesture of smoking a chillum and praising Shiva. And we say ok we will make our way down and you pay us, it looks like good vibe party. Id been staying at Juhas place, one of the blokes from Mullet Mohawk, an iconic suomisaundi, psychedelic trance act. In the week Id been in Finland, Id had a traditional Finnish sauna, smashed out a set at Konemetsa, drunk Salmiakki vodka and eaten lots of pizza kebabs, and kebab pizzas. Now it was the home stretch, the reason Id come all this way. Helsinki to Moscow to meet up with my label manager Sergei; then Moscow to Novosibirsk by TransSiberian railway. From there: a bus to Barnaul, followed by troop carrier to Ongudai, in the Altay Republic 4000 kms east of Moscow; the site of the Khan Altay Eclipse Festival, for which I had been booked to play. Juha continued to describe his most recent experience with Space of Joy: And we get there, man, and there was no food, no water, nobody come only crew. It was raining and the promoters were all on acid the whole time; and they said, yes, yes we book your ticket dont stress, enjoy party, tomorrow we get you home. Never trust Russians man. He took a toke on the spliff of Charas and squinted at me over the smoke, before exhaling slowly in reflection. The morning after party they left us there. No money, no tickets, no nothing. It took us a month to hitch-hike from Krim to Helsinki! If you go to Siberia for this party He took another toke on the joint and passed it to me. You will fucking die man. Exhale. It was a pretty heavy story, and certainly concerning, but I had come all this way, and if I died in Siberia at a psytrance party well I would become a legend wouldnt I? People would say: oh you remember Reality Pixie? Went to Siberia to play at a party and never fuckin came back 1

Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101 True ay? Thats fuckin heckers, what a staunch cunt. I decided, Fuck it Im doing this shit. So I made the call to Sergei in Moscow, and was greeted on the phone by my label-mate, Niko. Darren, my friend, you cannot come here man. Shit is fucking raining from the sky: very dark days man. Goodbye my friend, and good luck. BEEEEEEEEP. Juha looked at me inquisitively. And so? Furious says that I cant meet Sergei, shit is raining from the sky, and its very dark days. I said, just staring at empty space. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. You know why they call Sergei big chief? They say he is ex-FSB, mafia boss. I think you should stay in Suomi, my friend much better for you, I think. I was still determined. After several phone calls, and a few goes at teh internets, I had arranged to meet some party people to stay with in Moscow.

Lithuanian Party People.

Arrive at Yaroslav Station: nobody there. Heart sinking. Waiting and holding onto hope. Party people arrive this is Vicka you will stay with her. Go back to her place you vahnt to teyk some aycid? Tripping in red square, heavy vibes: reptilian, leyline, stargate, power-grid? Funfair and sunshowers, and then back to Viktorias. Red Wine and attempted conversation over Babelfish. Sexual tension or just the drugs? Next day: back at Yaroslav, big hugs and goodbyes. Im scared shitless. Trans-siberian solo mish: Uzbekistani brothers wearing the same clothes, offering me food and water? Paranoid they are trying to drug me turns out they just want to feed me. Meet Lithuanian party people at the Pectopah carriage who know my music. Drunk broken-english singalong to 4nonblondes in the smoking section. The Provodnitsa of the carriage is unimpressed. Two and a half days on the train. Drinking Baltika No. 4. A seemingly endless expanse of forest.

Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101 Novosibirsk Station: bus to Gorno Altysk. More party people. Roadside Cannabis, and pre-party vibe. Haggling with Mongolians over 200 roubles for a truck to Ongudai. Conversations with a Russian Soldier. Arrive: Base Camp

and theres a satellite dish.

Finally, at base camp, I felt at home. Registration for the party: dreadlocks, patchouli, and psywear. After scoping the sitch I scored a cabin for the night with my old mate Tsabi from Israel, Ocelot from the U.S. and his manager Thomas. Due to some flooding the trip would be a six-hour ride up mountain roads a bouncy, full-tilt, screaming gears scramble up the mountains with regular, rightio here we go moments. Just waiting for the inevitable rollover into the glacier-carved abyss below. When we got to the party Tsabi and I setup a campsite on the banks of the Katun, whilst Ocelot wondered off saying: I dont need a tent, Im just gunna go with the flow. After sorting our rig out, we went for the festival amble, ya know: check out the sights, sussing the vibe. Arriving at HQ, the stories of Finnish people abandoned come to mind. This time Space Of Joy seem to have their shit together. A full help desk with info in both English and Russian, set times, maps etc. A WiFi Internet hub with personal accounts, and a telephone connection all made possible via satellite dish. I remember thinking: At least if they leave me for dead in the Siberian wilderness they might leave the satellite dish behind too.

Follow the Bell

Cruisin round the party: families, random trippers, market stalls and naked Russian girls frolicking in the river. Locals offering horse riding and hunting trips, wtf? Israelis have got the Moroccan. Scored drops off London from Melbourne, and some Mayan calendar blotter off Sasha, one of the promoters: a Siberian star-child.

Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101 First night of the party and I am lost, tripping balls in the darkness by myself. Cannot see shit. Where the fuck is the party? Sputnik passes overhead. The darkness becomes a palette for hallucinogenic holography. Somewhere in the night a bell rings a wandering tempo Follow the bell, or you will lose yourself to the darkness. Eventually find the mainstage: an epic session of crankin dark tunes: activation of genetic memory, existential communitas. Ocelot plays an epic sunrise set, taking me on a journey through the trance dimensions and into outer space.

Ocelot I was at the back of the dancefloor having a smoke and a beer, when I saw Ocelot making his way from the DJ booth, on his way somewhere. I walked up to him, flashing a trippers smile and said: Hey dude, that was a fuckin sick set ay. Full cosmic journey sorta tunes man. Solid as! He just looked at me, slightly puzzled. So you actually liked it? He said. My jaws dropped. Are you serious man? You smashed it! Everybody loved it dude. Are you sure they dont want to kill me? He asks, deep and monotone like his basslines. Ohdude. Um did you eat too much of the Mayan calendar? I asked. Yeah, that guy with the camera gave me acid and now he wants to kill me. He said, pointing at Thomas, his tour manager. He has a gun in the camera. He pointed to the distant mountains. There are snipers in the hills can you see them? Youre all trying to kill me. With that he bolted away from the mainstage, running full speed down an embankment, over the fence and through a vegie garden. I set off after him. He sees me give chase, and accelerates, his paranoia realized. They really are out to get me. I caught up to Ocelot by the river. An important note: you should never corner a paranoid tripper.

Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101 Feeling trapped, he waded clothes and all, waist deep, into the shallows of the turbulent, glacial waters of the Katun. Security guards wearing military fatigues start yelling at him, beckoning not to try cross the river. I plead with Ocelot: Dude, please dont try and swim across the river man its fucking dangerous. I hold out my hand for him. But youre trying to kill me man. He was eyeing the Security guards and some party people, who had moved closer to offer support. Dude, Im the one here trying to stop you from drowning yourself. Now lets go, out of the river, all your shit is soaked. I offered my hand again. To my relief he grabbed hold and I pulled him out of the river. The security guards and by-standers all applauded and came to greet us. They gave him a blanket and tea and ushered him away from his Aussie antagonist.

The Clouds Eat the Sun Eats the Moon.

Instead of hanging out with Tsabi and Ocelot at the mainstage for the eclipse, I had decided to climb the peak at the confluence of the Katun and Kabun rivers, with London, another Aussie and some randoms. They had all the drugs, and I wanted a bit of hash to accompany the astronomical phenomenon. The cloud cover did not look promising, but we maintained high spirits as we made the trek up the hill. In position and armed with massive joints of hash and eclipse glasses, we sat and waited for the main event, all of us silently praying to our personal gods to send away the clouds. And as the moon began to move in front of the sun, the clouds formed a frame, like a portal to an unattainable, hidden Kether. With seconds to go before totality, as the eye of the eclipse was poised to reveal its blazing umbra, the clouds engulfed the portal.

Our totality denied, as day turned to night. All still, and as one, in the ineffable moment. Like zero on a waveform. Reset.

The silence: broken by trills, woohoos, and ululations from the mainstage. 5

Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101 They must have seen the totality. London was livid and inconsolable: swearing like a trooper and generally hard to deal with. I was disappointed at missing the eclipse. I shoulda been with Tsabi and Ocelot, but I did feel, in some way, I had achieved some form of completion a vibrational shift, and a dream realised. Apple of my psy

Laying down the tunes on the mainstage, more Mayan calendar board and straightup Johnny Walker to wash down the Versace. Lots of punters had bailed after the eclipse; but the crew who are still on the dancefloor sway and gesticulate in appreciation. Zoning in and spacing out. Cranking an Ableton session with a MIDI controller, and doin the old knob-twiddling-power-elbow, and the occasional both-armsgathering-energy-into-a-psychedelic-harduken. A dancer offers an apple to me with a beautiful smile. Breakfast. The Sun begins to reveal itself in golden glimmers over the mountainous horizon. Swelling movements in my music echo throughout the valley, and the mountains resonate in sympathy. This is what its all about for me.

Goodbye, Khan Altay Chilling on the beach with London and crew. Saying goodbyes, amused at their decision to raft out of the party. Visions of smoking spliffs and drinking beers, floating idly up the river. Glad its not me. Sasha appears, smiling like a little psychedelic elf. Ah Darren. So glad I found you. I smile, Oh Ive been around. You must pack your stuff, you are leaving on this raft very soon.

Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101 wtf? Umm no. Im not going with them, Im going by truck in the morning. I say. This could be good for you, we think you should do it. She smiles an innocent smile. Your trip has already been paid for here are your tickets, and your set-fee. Sorry no US dollars, only Roubles.

Five-hour, epic rafting trip on class-four rapids with crazy boatman. Many times thought that we would meet a white-water demise. Left for hours, in the dark, waiting for a minicab. Ripped off, threatened and intimidated as they drive us around the forest you give us more money! In the forest nobody will find you! They drive us to the bank. We pay half and bail. Mission to the station. Omsk to Moscow, Domodedovo Airport. Home.

Darren Smith Assessment 3 KWB101