Review & Photos | Burning Man 2013 | Black Rock City

Words by: B. Getz with additional reporting by Maria Herrera, Jillian Ashley

Images by: Various - Noted under each photo

Burning Man :: 8.26.13 - 9.02.13 :: Black Rock City :: Nevada

We the people of Black Rock City adventure into the desert to subsist and survive, imperiling ourselves in 100+ degree heat, body dehydrating in the hottest of minutes. Nevermind any substances, the mind-bending voyage of Burning Man is a freakishly addictive, dangerous and intoxicating drug. We sought shelter and sustenance before Mother Sun's light beamed down unimaginable sizzle. We brought foods from around the globe, and tons of water, domes, tarps, tents and Yurts -- the elements in this city are punitive and exacting. You will find no vending, lot scene or taco truck.

[Photo by Jeff Kravitz]

Attempting to describe Burning Man to someone who has never attended can be likened to describing music to a person who is deaf. To truly understand this gathering, a person MUST participate. A sparse, two-lane thruway veers onto a new road. At a snail’s pace, we drove onto the Playa, a six mile wide vastness rechristened Black Rock City, a new galaxy. We finally had arrived at Burning Man.

We made this pilgrimage to a Mecca sourced from within our ingenuity, the objective was to envelop ourselves in art. The Man welcomed us with magnanimity and altruism, his benevolence in the air, our mind’s eye in the sky, observing the population. We went to build a city with infrastructure, culture, freaks and geeks. We were the blissfully wicked -- a collective mass that puts its faith it itself. Radical Inclusion. Radical Self- Reliance. Participation Station.

We came to create. We came to partake. Nobody within the Black Rock City limits is a merely a bystander, so we arrived and built a brave new world. When it was over, we burned it, packed it all out and left no trace.

What Is Burning Man? Ten Principles

Burning Man is a current, divine existence that reaches toward the ethos and tenets that are alive and well within Neotribalism. It is a next-generation byproduct of the Beat/Sixties movement given a pure rebirth and revolution deeply immersed in Northern California and West Coast festival culture. Burning Man, and Neotribalism link the self- sufficient tribal principles of the old-style communal hippie set with the Gotham tech progressives of the Bay Area. This is combined with post-Club culture, and the sacred and chromatic aesthetic of several mixed indigenous philosophies from around the world, most fervently the Far East.

[Photo by Jeff Kravitz]

Journalist Charles Shaw: (RealitySandwich) wrote: “Neotribalism espouses the “archaic revival” Terrance McKenna had popularized, at once rekindling our relationship with our tribal past while at the same time picking up the mantle of the previous generation’s counterculture and pushing humanity forward into its next evolutionary step. It began in the late 1990s as little more than a fashion statement that emerged from the Burning Man Festival, yet has evolved into something that today is so much more, but still can't really be quantified. In the simplest terms, it is a spiritual movement, and despite the aesthetic pretentions, a serious one at that.”

This is closest to approximating what is actually going on culturally within the participation, holiness, and amalgamation of music, art, community and human experience in Black Rock City. At the end of the week, beneath the ashes lie the life lessons- that if practically applied- will mine the absolute best out of who you are - and do so by any means necessary.

Neotribalism has evolved to a plateau. In 2013 Burning Man remains a salient wind in the time's sails; an era of unprecedented global uncertainty on a variety of levels. People in the Burning Man movement talk of a “paradigm shift" or "transformation" evolution, giving rise to a newfound land of the artistic underground, dancers, designers, musicians, DJs, writers, filmmakers, and so much more, Neotribalism is the lone definitive cultural element that I could reach and grasp in the hopes of relating the concept of cosmonauts, the absurdity of art cars, freaks, ruffians. The Tiffa Novoa-inspired post-apocalyptic stylistic creations born from the El Circo troupe are embodied by so many denizens of Planet Black Rock. My sojourn into the depths and annals of Burning Man 2013 is a testament to this inspiration.

Spending over a week on the Playa, this writer learned about what it takes to make Black Rock City come to life -- and return to desert -- rest assured it is no small feat. I’d like to acknowledge and thank the wonderful souls whom dedicate themselves to making sure we are able to “Do it Right” at Burning Man, at their own great personal cost and effort. To the Black Rock City Dept. of Public Works (DPW), the glue, manpower, badassery and know-how that drive the infrastructure in every way remote need, the Burning Man Organization, Burning Man Project, and all the different arms and legs who provide the foundation of the entire event. I’d also like to recognize one of the numerous, smaller, self-governed camps that provide essential services; like our good friends at the Recycle Camp, who work night and day crushing cans while DJ Bobby Bluefoot spins boomshots and members take turns educating Burners about sustainability and eco-awareness.

[Photo by Jillian Ashley/Recycle Camp]

Upon arrival, this writer got himself acclimated and dove right in, completely unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions I would undergo. By surrendering to the flow, I allowed sentiments and passions to guide me. I trusted the Playa, for she provides as the Dude abides. Without further ado, here is one boy’s virgin sojourn to Black Rock City, with the soundtrack my guide, and the Burning Man cultural pact finally personified. Tread gently, Safety third and please handle with care.

Sound camps are where the colossal, illusory trance-like music events transpire. These are netherworlds of sound, LED light, fire and fury, and site of many of this writer’s most substantial Burn experiences. Even on Playa, music comes first and foremost for somebody like me. Many of these camps also have mutant vehicles and ambitious, elaborate art cars that pack massive soundsystems and provide traveling raves to any and all areas on the Playa. Some of these extravagant, ostentatious camps explode fireballs and glow like an Owsley Stanley-themed pinball machine. I would stand in jaw-dropped awe before flamboyant dancing elucidated submission. Like all theme camps, Sound Camps are urged to be as interactive as possible. However, one of the few rules is that all speakers must be turned away from Black Rock City, so that the bass travels out into the greater open playa at all times. In the dark of night, it would be Robot Heart, White Ocean, Digital Apex, or Camp Question mark that piqued my curiousity time and again. Come sunrise, I most often found my way to Fractal Planet or the Abraxas dragon art car to greet Mother Sun with Zen aerobics and sky worship.

The monster set from The Polish Ambassador at Apex on Thursday night was the perfect blasting off point, as he weaved classic hip-hop and R&B tracks into dazzling danceable grooves. Heard often on the Playa, a remix to Blackstreet’s timeless anthem “No Diggity” got the party started quickly and right. This hallowed ground is where Dave Sugalski decided to first unveil his super-sexy take on the timeless Teddy Riley jam. TPA’s smooth transitions and uptempo beats had a nearly full camp getting throw’d by midnight with countless rap sing-alongs and four-on-the-floor electro funk that was dripping in Warsaw hot sauce. It was clear to all that ‘Jumpsuits were in the Building!’ and everybody in that gi-normous sound camp threw it down something vicious. This segued well into later unannounced sets from Diplo’s raga-fied soundsystem Major Lazer, who waved a Jamaican flag far and wide perched atop the giant Apex soundcamp DJ stage as emcees riffed on the spot. In keeping with the sensually charged vibes omnipresent when the sun goes down on the playa, the dancehall riddims went over hard for the Apex massive. A Diplo-fied remix of Sean Paul’s modern dancehall chorale “Shake That Thing” sent us into a frenzy, as did the Stephen Ragga Marley track “Traffic Jam.” Nuff respect was shown as Major Lazer rained tees and bandanas down on the crowded dancefloor and tag-teamed with Glitch Mob before passing things over to the Mob for another hour of electrifying, sonic bombast.

The Polish Ambassador:

“Burning Man is not festival. It is a societal experiment. It's a place where people get to try on whatever identity they wish. Certain cultural agreements, like freedom of expression, creativity and gifting are different than what we are used to. It's a dose of soul medicine to take back and integrate into our daily lives.”

Diplo:

We did four shows (two by Diplo, two by Major Lazer) but one of them I don't think anybody heard. I'm just getting feedback now as people are returning to society. For me, I don't like for music scenes to be defined and I had always prejudged it. I was already building a tolerance to what that was and knew I had to go see it. Carnival in London is the most insane party -- or I thought that before I went to Burning Man. They rival one another.”

From the outside looking in, the artist known as Random Rab would seem to be an enigma. A 16-year Burner, a driving force in the Oregon-based El Circo scene that transformed Burning Man and the entire Western seaboard to the Rockies, Rab unwittingly (but certainly not unknowingly) carries the hopes and aspirations of a generation of dreamers (and doers) at his fingertips. The incredible devotion and religious fervor that surrounds him might lead one to believe that atop that perch exists a person beyond reach. Yet there he was, alone, savoring an American Spirit outside of the Fractal Planet dome art gallery, merely minutes after his mesmeric set at Fractal’s camp. I professed my rapidly sizzling adoration for his music, and the cerebral spirituality embedded in its human code. Rab was happy to chat for a few, graciously gifting me an unidentified Playa crystal (In the Bay Area, they call them “Hella-Tight”), and we kept it moving. The man holds a certain fragile tranquility that is so emboldened by the source, and his light, that it is difficult not to come away profoundly affected from an interaction with him or his enchanted sonic art.

[Photo by Brendan Jaffer-Thom]

Random Rab:

“I always just feed off of what the crowd wants. I never really plan my sets. I like to toss out a few types of tracks in the beginning and then feel the pull in one direction or another. I've certainly noticed that songs in a major key work best at sunrise and minor key is best at night.”

A radical departure from the normal bass gymnastics on display in the dubstep and post- dubstep eras, Rab presented spiritual séance and devotional chanting, mixing in subtle sensuality and humble self-effacing truths, thru minor and major chord changes, softness and aggression in tone, and most of all the vocals from and through his heart. He picked up a guitar, and seduced drum skins with animated verve. He reverentially welcomed the euphoric vocals of Amae Love, psalms both solemn and celebratory, as well as the mournful, somber, and chilling violin work of Hanna Thiem, both sisters’ hurled sounds toward the stratosphere, which somehow was now visible deep Playa. “Once the eyes of self are open, the no-other is revealed.” Rab’s original music was emboldened with purpose, providing an ethereal tranquility betwixt hymns “The Spice,” the magnetic “Shishala”: Thiem and Rab’s unity on the floating “Clairvoyer” maybe the holiest music emanating from within the hallowed annals that lined Fractal Planet’s sunrise mass. Undeniable warble-bass grooves were swimming beneath “The Riddle,” Rab’s scat rap modestly laying down a steez and serenity. “The Touch” laced foreboding, bass-driven dribbles that metastasized into a clarity, then proudly surrendered to the joy fantastic, we floated into far more powerful sonic fascinations, and Rab coaxed the sun over the mountains in yet another heroic sunrise.

Random Rab:

“Originally I was drawn to the Burn because that seemed like the biggest party on the planet and I had to be there. Over the years it has definitely gotten bigger and the chaos factor has been tamed somewhat. More than anything, I love this event because of all the amazing people. Old and new friends are everywhere and everyone is feeling really raw. It enables a certain style of connection and conversation that is unlikely to happen elsewhere. Of course, I also simply love to play music out there. It is so beautiful and unique. People are super open to having a life changing experience. I am too. Together we all can reach that place of real personal change and elation. As a performer, it is amazing to feel that connection. People throw the word "epic" around a lot, but out there that is the norm.”

At some point in time that apparently was the 30th of August in the default world, Buenos Aires-based Hernan Cattaneo delivered a colossal set at the monstrous White Ocean sound camp, an unfettered and unforgettable outing. I’m talkin’ bout mind-fuckingly erotic, progressive tribalized house that is some of thee most orgasmic music that has ever blessed my ears. The dancing at these parties on the Playa is light years beyond my narrative portrayal. I’m at a loss for verbiage to depict the experiences of 11 p.m. - 8 a.m. as the hard dance music rages. It’s part of the most heavenly communal experience one could ever dream. A dancefloor where everybody is a superstar, the most beautiful people surround you, and no matter who or what you are in the default world, we are all our superhero selves to these beats. Intergalactic-planetary hours of spasmodic dancing bliss amidst thousands of the best people on Planet Black Rock.

[Photo by Jeffrey Squier Silver]

Places like the Brooklyn-based Robot Heart camp/art car provided literally endless Playa nights of the most heroic, marathon deep and progressive House sessions. The masterfully crafted car, three stories complete with LEDs wrap around an enormous heart atop this spaceship, was an otherworldly mode of transport to the galaxies of dance dreamlands, styled-out with a soundsystem that pumped bass bombast beyond just “booming in ya’ Jeep.” The He-Men behind the musical organization and iconic imagery from Robot Heart, Swamy and Dill led a massive rage the night of the Man Burn that will go down in the chronicles of this writer’s third-eye memory as one of the greatest explosions of dance energy and ecstatic scenes ever bore witness. Though there were other incredible sound camps in the desert, it was Robot Heart in particular that was the site/car of several epic adventures in tribal house rage. One 6 a.m. sunrise, you turn around and there’s P. Diddy, yes Puffy himself, bowing to the Playa Gods. Radical inclusion on swole! Diddy “spread love the Brooklyn way” ©Notorious BIG, and could be spotted along with the likes of a Susan Sarandon (I’m dead serious) at Robot Heart getting down with the BRC gen-pop. Because we all are general population in Black Rock City.

In the end it all makes sense - Robot Heart is a Brooklyn set, the fabulous Brooklyn House producer/singer duo Wolf + Lamb are battling Soul Clap with an all hands-on benediction atop the intricately adorned decks, the soundsystem burrowing more heaping chunks of said sonic orgasmatron, and the music lifts and levitates you to a meditative dancing state for interminable spaces in time. At this point, and you just have to step back and ask yourself “is this even real?”

It is surreality, only in Black Rock City. On the final night of Burning Man, hours after the Temple of Whollyness burned, we set out for ‘More Fiyah’ and happened upon Thievery Corporation mastermind Rob Garza piloting the decks atop the Robot Heart car on the Playa. Setting the tone for one more indescribable endeavor; it was a boon of energy, a thunderous housequake and a psychedelic dub shindig for the books. A glorious set, with glorious people and some glorious stories are better left untold.

Robot Heart:

“Robot Heart is a collective of doers and dreamers, artists and entrepreneurs. Our home is in the desert dust of Burning Man, and the streets of New York City, Detroit, San Francisco and Hong Kong. Home is wherever the Heart is.

Robot Heart is a community and a family, and our events at Burning Man, in New York and around the world are an extension and celebration of that community, bound together by shared values of inclusion, giving, environmental responsibility and mutual respect.

Music is our first language, and our mission is to bring love and beats to the world. We work with and support artists, technologists and visionaries of all types in order to create incredible experiences and connected moments. To create love and beats, for you.”

We ventured out on the Abraxas dragon with a krewe of freaks and Bay Area ALIA (formerly BombGoddess) on the decks, and the ‘Sonic Shamaness’ took to the sky with bravura! As the sun rose from beneath the mountains in the distance, ALIA unlocked the lush, dreamlike state that comes alive on the Playa after 6 a.m. People ran after the Dragon with reckless abandon, and our dance massive grew exponentially with every track. She gracefully worked yoga-esque poses into dynamic and amatory elegance. It would be the first of five consecutive mystical mornings greeting Mother Sun. Along with the likes of Kaminanda, ALIA worked delectable dub-step into melodic glitch, with her signature serpentine Goddess spark. The dragon paused, and directly in front of our séance, a marriage proposal unfolded before us. Nary a dry eye, we reveled in the enthralling triumph.

[Photo by Kyer Wiltshire]

Also on Abraxas, the morning after the Man Burn, Oaktown’s illest Lafa Taylor took to the decks and consecrated a set that was unequivocal deliverance for a Playa sunrise, and grandiose new tradition to greet our new year. Just before we embarked, I witnessed Taylor climb onto the dragon and assume the decks; intrinsically I knew that Rab would have to wait a few minutes. And so it began, with a basshead take on En Vogue’s timeless chorale “You’re Never Gonna Get It,” Lafa provided a set drenched in the best of ‘90s Hip Hop and R&B - an hour that was basically my high school mixtape on subwoofer steroids! Reworking countless classics, from Aaliyah and Timberland, Missy Elliot, Beastie Boys, Dilla-fied bangers and beyond; Lafa later allowed aspiring emcees on deck to take a turn on the mic. At the moment the sun reared her head, my man cued up the ragga-horns and organized the noise with a straight-up spin on Outkast’s everlasting ode to dopeness “SpottieOttieDopaliciousAngel,” and at that juncture, everything was just exactly perfect! Winding it down with a fueled and funkafied mix of the omnipresent Blackstreet “No Diggity,” we gave thanks and praises, then did the Carl Lewis straight to Random Rab’s Fractal Planet hallucination station. Only in Black Rock City y’all!

On the heels of prodigious sets from Random Rab, Beats Antique, Low Riderz, Freq Nasty and PhuturePrimitive at Camp Question Mark, it would be Fractal Planet’s massif environs that hosted one of the most anticipated sets of the week, Emancipator’s sunrise Saturday morning devotional. Despite being plagued by a clipping low end and some sound issues during the first thirty minutes, Doug Appling (producer) and Ilya Goldberg (violin) braved the cacophony and trusted the Playa Gods. And were we ever rewarded for patience and virtue as Emancipator, flanked by a myriad of dancers, fire spinners, acrobats and other performance artists, offered gratitude, peace, and astonishing reverence through the modus operandi of ill communication.

Enhanced and entranced by Goldberg’s sweet, long and harrowing melodies, Appling delivered atypical harmony through modern technology and mining the registers from music of all mode and manner. A banjo raced against the violin, harnessing Appalachian flavor on “Old Devil.” A classically-studied Portlandia shaman of sonics, Emancipator found and channeled The Balance. He deployed huge, raw drum breaks underneath a chopped up stuffing of samples and sounds. Per usual he favored minor chords and meditative tempos, and the swollen Fractal massive continued to grow, grasp and transmit his variety of styles. Goldberg wove his playing into melodic elements like pianos, guitars, flutes and horns that rang atop the wall of sound; his violin followed multi-segued transitions throughout the nearly two hours of music that rarely stopped. Somehow, just before any segment would grow to precious or peak too pretty, Appling would seamlessly introduce enough grit - a rugged Moog line, a passionate percussion layer, to steer the song away from easy listening or new-age monotony. Burners kept bobbing, Empresses struck vogue poses galore, and that was motion enough, as IT was written.

Breaking from the music for a moment -- on Thursday afternoon, a swarm of numerous Law Enforcement vehicles were ominously making their way toward the Temple, lights flashing. At that moment, naturally people feared the worst, and a stunned aura came over the area. Soon it was explained that this was a situation diametrically opposite to that of our trepidation. Each officer exited the cars forming a circle a path toward the temple, they stood at attention and removed their hats. A woman was then escorted down the lane slowly, carrying a plaque that memorialized her husband, a fallen policeman. More family members followed the same path and entered the temple, and then the officers did the same. Burners respectfully surrounded the temple, and the entire community, LEO and Black Rock City denizens, bowed heads in silent mourning. This procession provided one of the more poignant and powerful events to take place on the Playa all week.

[Jeff Kravitz’s Video Of The Man Burn]

Power was an issue, with generators and speakers, so not too many bands set up, a few did here and there on a smaller scale. There were however phenomenal impromptu concerts at my camp Bee Here Now, located at 9:30 and G on the Playa. Not only did our international krewe provide breathtaking acoustic entertainment in four languages, we were graced with a choice recital from a twin-duo from Los Angeles-by-way-of-Canada Carmen and Camille. If I were to recreate each and every setting where a musician torched my spirit in BRC, this article would never end. For the purpose of brevity alone, here are a handful of standout situations that manifested themselves over the course of a week in Black Rock City. This report focuses on the smattering of DJs and producers that I was lucky enough to take in over the course of nearly seven days in the desert sands of Burning Man.

Sidecar Tommy is a drummer and producer of Beats Antique (who also provided DJ sets throughout the week at various sound camps). Those of us in the know were anticipating a monster throwdown in the 4 a.m. slot at Camp Question Mark, late Thursday night , but Tommy was thrown a few logistic curveballs. Nevertheless, the stalwart Oakland pro set up gear on an art car in front of Camp Q and provided those who braved the early murky waters with set that will stand the test of time. Sidecar’s master influx of world music sounds and ideas took root and flourished as the dancing masses kept the blood and vibes flowing. Post-dub step bass wobble underpinned sitar and Middle Eastern flourishes with trunk- rattling authority. A valiant vision laid the plans for a future metamorphosis from this artist, and the early returns were more than promising. Despite the setbacks, Sidecar Tommy’s will to persevere gave us all safe passageway to a marvelous heart of darkness.

Though busy throughout the week with Freq Nasty sets, Darin McFayden’s other project on Playa, The Dub Kirtan Allstars (DJ sets) was a most impressive unification of spirituality, culture and sound over the entire week of Burning Man. Spellbinding Kirtan and grandiloquent beat-science amalgamate into a sensual, sacred potion as Freq himself captained the superfluous-terrestrial saucer. The dread cosmonaut enchanted with Yoga of Bass, and played Capoeira of Crunk; with walloping low end dropping soundsystem thunderclaps whilst chanting channeled holiness from the depths within ourselves. On the final morning of Burning Man, at the magnificent Fractal Planet camp, just before sunrise, Darin rose to riveting occasion and liberated the massive mind, soul and body with thrilling takes on tracks from recent EP Subsonic Devotion, and deeper still beneath the rugged undertow of bass riddims and entrancing chant.

Dave Tipper Sunrise sets on Wednesday and Monday mornings bookended Burn bombastics. On the former, Tipper’s first performance since open-heart surgery earlier this year, the Mayan Warrior art car soldiered out toward the Temple and he delivered a sublime, downtempo set soaked in love-drenched waves. At the conclusion he gave gratitude and thanks to those who willed him through the darkness. For Monday, Tipper set it off proper with a Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing” guitar riff, looped up something dirty with funky-ass undertones. The liftoff for this guy’s final set of dancing at Burning Man 2013 was magnificent, and spilled into over an hour par excellence.

The Scumfrog’s Tuesday night/Wednesday sunrise set on the Robot Heart car was a proper introduction to how the freaks come out at night on the Playa. Frog came through with a vast assortment of tricks up his sleeveless arms, going back to his roots of psychedelic and deep House influences, and blessing the moment of Mother Sun’s appearance with his take on the seminal Beach Boys classic “Our Prayer.” He also managed to work in Pink Floyd’s “Mother” and The Police’s “Walking on the Moon” amidst Timo Maas and Todd Terje house anthems.

On the morning after the Man burned, AutoSubrise blessed the BRC massive with lush esoteric passages in a dreamlike chorus, dropping muted Krush-eqsue somber boom-bap amidst classics like the acoustic portion of Led Zeppelin’s “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You.” As morning arrived within the confines the AutoSub Dome, diabolical drip-hop was riding round the circumference of reality.

[Photo by Jeff Kravitz]

Breakbeat icon FreQ Nasty continued his evolutionary bass adventures on the Playa this year, and was literally all over the sound camps, killing sets at Camp Question Mark, Apex and elsewhere. His huge reggae influence was in full effect early as he mixed in his boomshot collabo “#1 Skanka” with Tippa Irie that made the dancehall housequake; Freq spun Dub thunderclaps beneath his irresistible, bombastic breaks. UK bass music can still be heard heavily in Freq’s music but more so a new-style Cali glitchhop and eerily melodic strains of bass terror reign Freq supreme. Darin’s signature blend of low n’ heavy, dub- wise breakbeats, dancehall, nu-glitch and booming 808 trap bangers kept revelers throwing down wickedly whenever Freq stepped to the Mac dub-plates.

BELI3EVER’s urban understanding and artistic tactics wreak havoc with hip-hop. His afternoon set at UFOm was the fucking future. Taking radio and club bangers from Justin Timberlake, Janet Jackson, Frank Ocean, and mixing in Flume and Lafa Taylor tracks, BELI3VER deserves proper daps. Another Oakland producer DJ on the Playa, his magnificent remixes of Erykah Badu’s “On and On” and Lauryn Hill’s undying “Doo Wop (That Thing)” would leave us all panting and praying and most of all BELI3VERS.

PhuturePrimitive was all-pervading on the Playa all week. We caught him at Apex’s massive coliseum, as well as down at 2nd and Esplanade, and he was talked about amongst ravers and dance mavens all week. His music’s cinematic quality conveyed lush melody, groove-heavy breaks and the fuzzy, glitch-out bass that brought fervor to the dance floor whenever he performed. Beyond the bass, the succulent synth work harnessed a tranquility that contrasted against his rugged beat-scapes, provided the yang to a funkafied yin within his music. Rain’s apropos, luscious remix of The Human Experience “Dusted Compass” closed down sets at both Apex and Camp Q, aural ecstasy and eroticism that concentrated the sexually charged vibes into a gambol of gargantuan prowess.

Miss Applecat returned to Burning Man at the Suspended Animation camp just preceding sunrise, for a hypnotizing display of ethereal bass aerobics and enrapture. In the 7 O'Clock Plaza, under a cherry moon racing behind the highlands, it was dub-step sexiness, sultry, beguiling baby-makin’ music, a triumphant bass baptism as we channeled the Gods and earths before becoming them. This year’s Applecat Playa adventure embodied the closing of her journey birthed over one thousand days prior. Her otherworldly mix marked a definitive juxtaposition betwixt a dusty child-like state and a new evolution of a desert dwelling feline, a Lion’s roar and honest assessment of my own state of being as Burning Man blissfully concluded.

[Photo by Applecat]

Applecat:

Watching the red sun rise over the flat lands cradled by the temple, a chrysalis; just as I started my journey in 2011 I ended it as such; welcomed and sent off with the bright red warmth of my Father Sun against the dark blue skies that house my Mama Moon; together creating promenading water colors and harmonic duality in the dawn; endings and beginnings; circles and 3's.”

Embarking on this ambitious challenge of penning a narrative that would encapsulate my Burning Man experience was my own social responsibility. Rest assured, the aforementioned, in total, covers merely a smidgen... a tidbit, of the complete adventure that is Black Rock City. I owe an incredible debt of gratitude to my camp Bee Here Now, who indoctrinated me into Burning Man in the most righteous of fashions, providing the best energy, vibration, food, people and most of all LOVE that I could have ever hoped for. Indeed, I dreamt it up a certain way, but I can tell you today, it was even better! Next year on the Playa… Namaste.

For some tremendous blogging about Burning Man that focuses on the plethora of artistic endeavors other than music, please peep the blogs of our gracious photographers Duncan Rawlinson and legendary rock shutterbug Jeff Kravitz. Stream Burning Man 2013 DJ sets here.

B. Getz For JamBase | Only In Black Rock City

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