Starkilla (with Bree Runway & Starkillers)

It's as if a disco has been pushed to its limits and chemical formulas are raining down from the ceiling instead of glitter. Everything sounds bold, dirty and at the same time deliberately glamorous - as if a rave was held simultaneously at ChekhSlovakAtlanta and on the Summer Wintour catwalk.

This isn't about tenderness - it's about the body, about intoxication, about the cry of ‘blama’ that echoes through the hall louder than the bass. The dance floor turns into an arena: someone falls face down on the floor, someone poses, someone whispers the mantra ‘Ketamine, Coke & Molly’ under the flashing lights. Ironic chaos that smells of sweat, rhinestones and forbidden fun.