Kiloton was my escape to an exclusive pool party in the rainy Malmö summer
By Kai Teo
Kiloton with Dorisburg
Saturday 14 May ’16, Babel, Malmö, Sweden
To be honest, we’re quite afraid of going to the mainstream clubs in the city. Not because we’re so underground and so cool, but because mainstream venues tend to attract assholes.
Yep. Sweeping statement. But every time we step into a club in the city, what really scares us are drunk people who’re intent on getting laid and are on the dance floor not to dance, but to try to get some sloppy action for the evening.
Then came Kiloton, like a genderless knight in floral armour, riding into the mainstream scene of Malmö, to fight the injustices of bad club behaviour and bad DJs that can only press play and pause on Spotify.
Per Hammar and Kajsa Lindström need no introduction in the local club scene. They’re the powerhouses of house, the life in Malmö’s nightlife, and the heavyweights in every Kiloton evening (sorry I got carried away with the weak puns).
When the night began, I stood in a corner clutching my beer tightly, quivering in fear that some blond girl in a tight cocktail dress would come over and touch my hair. But as the dynamic duo laid down their tunes, I too, let my hair down and floated to the paradise that they’ve conjured up in my head.
The crowd started to occupy the dance floor. And there wasn’t any “swaying in ecstatic unison” kinda thing we often see in Psytrance floors. People were talking endlessly, men were comparing the fit of their suits, and women were checking out these men’s suits.
“I’m here to write about Kiloton. Stop being an asshole, stop judging people.”
So, I closed my eyes and “boom”. There I was. Transported by the flowy, bouncy house, straight into a warm, tropical paradise, to a pool party by the beach, with the setting sun across the horizon. I know it sounds cheesy. But hey, it’s a good place to be when there’re four couples drenched in spray tan making out right in front of you.
Kajsa and Per Hammar were gentle and kind. There were no heavy drops that destroyed faces, no 180-bpm bullshit that freed our inner beasts, no weird robot sounds that made people uncomfortable. They were here to put us all in a state of easy relaxation. It was like therapy without the electric shocks.
Seeing the duo dance behind the console was pure liberation from the social constructs that seemed to have left a blemish in my bitter heart towards the local club scene. They loved what they were doing. They loved providing us with an escape. And I loved them.
Just when I was grabbing my tiny-umbrella cocktail from the Kiloton-land poolside bar, Dorisburg descended onto the soundscape and plucked me out from sunset fantasy.
His offer for the evening was a darker, trippier version of the pool party. The sun dropped straight into the water and the whole sky became a sinister, deep purple. I was left alone in the pool, where the water has turned into the colour of a cool, glittery blue. I was immediately held captive by his haunting tunes, kinda like the guy you put in a pool in Sims and then remove the ladder.
I was stuck. And I liked it.
The crowd was quickly forgotten, except for this one tall dude that had really really orange skin. Yea I mean, it’s almost summer and all, but orange is just kinda off.
For the rest of the evening, I was stuck on the dance floor, drowning in my own self-righteousness and taking in big gulps from the eternal spring of life that Dorisburg has bestowed upon us.
I would love to see them all play again. This time though, I promise not to bring my ego.
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