Soap’s intrepid explorer, Ellsworth, is at it again. This time he’s heading west for some little music festival. Supposedly, it’s gonna a be a pretty good time. So good in fact, that Ellsworth has decided to blog live in the form of text messages. Oh, it should be noted that he doesn’t actually have tickets yet

(All times EST)

Thursday:

17:08 - Barely made it to airport care of nyc public transit. Now safely in the buxom (sp?) of virgin america. One of the dudes from the national is reading the Times next to me. Saw it on their guitars, confirmed through quaint conversation. Seems more interested in rising prices of domestic food stuffs than chatting. That’s ok. Pulling out of gate. Cocktails soon.

17:13 - Last pre- cali update. According to the guy next to me, M.I.A is also on my flight. If I meet her, I will bring up that rainy miami day we saw her three Conferences ago when she wore a sonic the hedgehog shirt when I thought that we were in love…

23:45 - After a totally manageable flight, arrived in LA, one tearful french movie (diving bell), two mini bottles of wine, and five episodes of top chef later. Clean yourself up ellsworth. Now curbside, pretty close to MIA and crew, a sea of psychadelic tights and guitar hero accessories…

Friday:

16:46 - Runs for liquors, groceries, and ice are now complete. The pool even has this charmingly distracting fountain-like water feature. The desert looks like some martian landscape, with the exception of all the 50’s ranch mansions…May try and snag weekend passes off some pr coachella dude. Aphex twin??!!1!

19:12 - A resourceful gf and generous friends made possible tickets for todays show. Aphexxxxxxxxxxx jfjrjkjehbhe

21:13 - Coachella by private charter. Missed cut copy, too hot. Too damn hot. Hoping for some sort of vip shenanigans (sp?) to roll in with the crew I’m with. Goldfrapp maybe? Well see….

Saturday:

14:14 - Made it to the festival after some lingering by the artists entrance. Drank all we could in vip area, then met up with people at goldfrapp. We came in late and were in the back, in sum, rather unmonumental. Headed over to see aphex twin, and Holy shit. Started funky, throwback hip hop and r and b, then started speeding up, increasingly more acid until it was a full blown idm glitch insaneo parade. We watched most of his set, then wandered back to vip for cocktails and pizza and a bus back to palm springs…

18:40 - At the anthem pool party. palm springs is in full effect. Think tommie sunshine is djing? His model wife stands right next to him in the booth. Heading to the festival at some point, trying to make it by 6 for hotchip.

Sunday:

19:46 - Coahcehlla, jesus. The dirt, the people, the organization. No words. At the anthem mag party in thois sort of tropi cal oasis. This may be the best pary of the fest. Finally overcast, finally good music. Claude von s playing now, I guess we missed mandy by an hour. Tommie sunshine is lingering by the decks, along with erol alkan, haven’t seen erol play, hope he steps it up.

Fresh from the Filipino press, the newest sensation to hit the East and soon (now) the blogosphere….Hamburger Art!

Catering and food art has long been a staple of contemporary social settings. Some may say the quality of an event can be judged on the shape, color, and variety of its passed hors d’oeuvre. Here to trounce the ice sculptures and inedible squash baskets are hamburger animals ranging from cute to fierce.

The series goes on to explore similar feats of craft with vegetables, sandwiches and “sandwich pictures.”

The publisher, Dreamland Publications, offer a variety of themed education and activity books. Let’s hope more of these make the trek from Delhi to the nearest Barnes & Noble.

Newcleus - Space Is The Place || Bellaphon

* click on Don Johnson to view photo gallery

Shorter, faster, more hotel-y? The 2008 conference was less hectic than previous years, streamlined by the fact that after 7 years of WMC attendance, we at SOAP can say with confidence we have passed from enthusiasts to veterans. Our ratio of sunrises to sunsets in florida is near equal, and our absorption of bass beats now hovers around the 2.3 billion mark, so what could be of interest in the almost three quarters of a decade visit? Dispatch below.

First- a word of apprehension after ‘06 and ‘07 seasons. With the M3 Summit skipping out yet again and the flyers for euro-trance parties seeming to multiply, apathy continues to grow for dance music fans that annually flock to Miami to hear a diversity of acts rarely found in the states.

To be sure, M3 isn’t the only bastion of good music, and there’s plenty of ways to avoid DJ Boris’ 24 hr endurance parties at Space, but the momentum of past years still doesn’t seem to be there. Nevertheless, SOAP correspondent and jet-lagged degenerate Ellsworth avoided New Jersey’s spring break crowds to see a concentrated and engaged amount of good music, on land and (sort of) at sea.

FRIDAY

After flight delays, we met up with Ghostly friends and family for sushi at a lounge in the basement of the Townhouse Hotel. After too much unfiltered sake, we headed down the beach for a hotel party. A friend had a massive balcony that peered into the courtyard of Opium Garden, so a voyeuristic sort of late night lounge session naturally came about. Partying in South Beach after midnight is always a game of chance; with all the liquor store closed, bars become black market boutiques for booze that only deal with hardened haggling and lots of cash. After paying “conference prices” for a bottle of absolut, the party carried on its merry way.

SATURDAY

Saturday was big. After two hours at local beach, we met up at the National Hotel for the Beatport Remix Hotel day party, catching Matt Dear, Ryan Elliot, and three pina coladas for opening set of the afternoon. The site of many a past pool party(RIP M3 Sunset Sessions), the National is a Miami institution where old party people and new technology gather together for free day parties. As Guy Gerber warmed up, we left headed up the beach for the fete du conference, the Ghostly yacht party.

Our caravan arrived early enough to avoid the lines that began to wrap around the will call and guest list. Just as we received our bracelets, a word from our gracious hosts: both Coast Guard and Homeland Security are on site to oversee check-in. No wallet, pant pocket, or open pack of cigarettes was left unchecked. License ID numbers were even written down to make sure our next of kin could be identified should we fall off the boat. The bottleneck to get on the boat finally eased around 6pm, and the place filled up.

The massive seafaring vessel was fully stocked with booze and sound. Downstairs, the dj setup was a humble 6 foot card table for Ryan Elliot and and pants-less cowboy Seth Troxler. The majority of the sound was reserved for the live stage upstairs where the rest of the lineup was set to play. At last, at sunset, with a full boat, the party shoved off. Sort of. Apparently, so much extra sound had been trucked in that the boat’s generators were overheating. Just before we could leave the protection of South Beach’s canals, the captain pulled the plug on heading ocean-bound, and we motored back to our cause-way. The view of the highway didn’t seem to stop anyone from enjoyment. Party favorite? Kate Simko’s twisting traverse of techno’s bubbly side. Her bobbing head and asymmetrical haircut were, in the words of a drunken yachter, “damn sexy.”

For Saturday PM, we spent our most energetic moments hanging out in a hotel before trying to rally for one of the millions of parties taking place. The goal was to make it until dawn for the Degenerates party, now something of a tradition. Sadly, a series of wrong turns led us back home before we could reach the Pawn Shop. Studio A was searingly loud- we saw what appeared to be Boyz Noise on the deck and ran for the nearest fire exit. The Minimoo warehouse party similarly had its share of problems- a steep cover, no AC, and, much worse- no crowd. After calling an end to our epic day and straggling soiree, we passed out.

SUNDAY

Sunday provided vindication; the Degenerates party didn’t end until that night, so after a leisurely dinner, we headed to Pawn Shop to catch Steve Bug, Matt Dear, and Jamie Jones close down the patio. There’s a certain inevitable sense of community that occurs during hour 13 of a 16-hour party, a hand-pumping badge of honor among dance music’s truest patrons. We said goodbye to Pawn Shop and made our way back to the hotel to gear up for the final party of the conference.

Ryan Elliot was booked to play Sunday night as the headliner for a techno party at Club 6, a small club on South Beach. We rolled up en masse, a group of twenty or so friends that took over the dance floor to welcome Ryan and Matthew Dear for what amounted to a private set- the best set of the conference- and probably the best set heard in a while. The intimate crowd literally freaked out as they went from Chicago house haunts to old school Detroit to bubbling minimal to more dance-y Italo, all while hugging and dancing and hand waving from the DJ booth.

We headed back to the hotel for more shirtless dance parties and a final sunrise, a fond farewell to the annual mess of humidity, dance music and excess that is the conference.

Lil’ Louis - Frequency || Dance Mania

¡dɐɔǝɹ ɹoɟ ǝɹɐdǝɹd ˙ʎɐpuoɯ sıɥʇ uʍop ǝpısdn ǝlʇʇıl ɐ ƃuılǝǝɟ sn ʇɟǝl sɐɥ ɔɯʍ ¡ɥɐoʍ

ıɯs || ǝɔɹoɟ ǝɥʇ lǝǝɟ - ǝɔɹoɟ - ƃ

It is with great pleasure that we announce the two-year anniversary of the Sounds Of the APocalypse music/lifestyle/whatever blog. Wooooooooo. Two years of party recaps, bullshit trend info and analysis, armchair advertising critique and tons of quasi-obscure dance gems have been shared with the world care via our ever-expanding online hosting plan. Guest writers have come and gone with like the seasonal low-paying international jobs they held; events and concerts have been cataloged and added to the hazy psyches of our unpaid music snob ears. Our fascination with our worthless cat is now permanently documented for all the Internet to see.

Complimentary to our meager credibility increase (picked up on Elbo and Hype Machine, linked to by Philip Sherburne, what’s up), we find ourselves many steps closer to cirrhosis, early age hearing loss, carpal tunnel syndrome, and whatever its called when your eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen. And no better a way to celebrate these hardships than with another debauched tour of South Florida for Conference. Hope to see you all there.

Vangelis - Pulstar || RCA

A certain music conference is quickly approaching and, once again, Soapism will be sending an ambassador. Stay tuned for details.

Doris Norton - Bit Killed Hertz || Globo

Unfortunately more traveling equates to less posts, hence the recent slowdown. But to make up for it were gonna trash Euro Trash Girls’ apartment this weekend, and you are all invited!

The Z.A.C.K. - 565, Where Are You || Philips

SXSW is taking place right now, I know because every scamming, party-humping promoter is blogging about twittering about seeing what everyone is talking about. As the tidal wave of trivial information seeps into every email and social networking profile we solicit, the drunken, camera phone equipped Internet chatter only seems to alienate me from the collective experience of every BBQ and clever stencil in Austin’s sweaty streets.

Perspective is necessary to turn trivialities into context; without it, every text-fed update of “went to bathroom and ran into Benny from ______ ” (some random band) does not paint help paint a cohesive picture, it just seems like more feedback in a festival of amps. While we at SOAP have our own set of events and festivals we favor, we understand the importance of participating in these cultural endeavors first hand, not risking inadequate understanding of our generation’s indulgences care of the skittish minds of culturally-wired youth.

Which brings us to our next “must,” a triumph of corporate philanthropy and grassroots weirdness, The Red Bull FlugTag. A team will be fashioned, a structure will be built, and goddamnit, a beautiful story will be crafted to carry every reader through it. Sure, there’s no pulled pork sandwiches, record label showcases or emerging social media, but can any of that compare to people trying to fly?

Duke Lake - Do You || Memory

At last, scientific vindication among the widespread social belief that there is something positive about the arguably loose-net collections of people and ideas that constitute the blogosphere!

Australian researchers studied bloggers for two months to determine their social connectivity as compared to a control group of Internet browsing non-bloggers.

What seems most peculiar about their findings is that people who own or contribute to blogs seemed to have better (or at least think to have better) social support than those who didn’t. But the vast majority of bloggers don’t receive any comments from posts, so the social support they feel seems almost cathartic; it’s the action of speaking their mind, not the feedback of others, which makes them feel more connected.

Fred - All Rights Reserved || Tyger Label Records

Everyone can use a little more sunshine!

Garrasco’s - Love Sex For Sale || Fuori Di Testi