Bassvictim is an electronic pop duo that formed in London, England. Composed of Maria Manow and Ike Clateman, the duo was in Austin performing a sold-out show at the outdoor stage of Mohawk.
Supporting them on their White Flag Tour was the opener, Thoom – a Beirut-born, Los Angeles-based artist who creates experimental electronic music and DIY noise.
I was infatuated and, at first, almost confused by the display before my eyes. Thoom (aka Zeynab Marwan) almost got lost in the crowd of tall people holding their phones in the air. But what I spied with my little eyes, despite the astigmatism in my left pupil, was the enchanting green lights resting on each of her knuckles. She moved with a robotic grace, and the lights made me follow like a cat and a laser pointer.
Also, next to her were two dancers on stage who moved their bodies with such ease. I thought, “These are the girls I see and get envious of because they can control their bodies so well.”
I was also taken back at the music I was hearing for the first time. At one point during the show, I turned to my friend Kayla, who I bought my tickets with, and said, “Lowkey, this isn't what I thought she sounded like. I feel like I can do a little shimmy around in the mosh though.”
As the set progressed, I watched in awe and a little bit of struggle as two girls in front of me with long brown hair sang their hearts out and jumped around together. They whiplashed my face for what felt like the whole set, as I felt the residue of their long hair separate loosely from their scalp onto my arms later in the night.
Thoom went on around 9:00 PM, and after about 15 minutes, she announced her set was coming to an end. I turned to my friend once again and gave a side-eye: “Over what the hay?” – for dramatic effect, I did indeed say the question mark out loud.
With no judgment and grateful to discover a new artist, I waited for Bassvictim's set.
To keep the blood moving in my legs while packed tight in the stiff crowd, I patiently bopped up and down like a Piranha Plant popping out of a pipe in Super Mario Bros.
Time kept passing – nearly an hour – and by the grace of the universe or Glob from Adventure Time, I kept holding on.
The crowd kept screaming at every little movement on stage or the slightest bit of beat drop in the techno sounds playing all around me; sadly, they were just giving me the false hope of doom and despair. But just when I wondered how much longer it could take, the lights dimmed, and the dramatic amount of fog came from all levels of the stage; I thought I might inhale it from the back of the crowd.
I saw Ike crouch down to the floor to play from a low-level mixer while Maria remained a dark silhouette as the smoke machine worked overtime. As soon as the beat dropped and the vocals kicked in, the crowd's energy completely did a 180 and began to move together as they all stared on stage to see Maria last bits of silver-blue hair appear as it moved within the space between her face and the fog, as she danced to the music she was performing with.
What came next was a wave of chaotic, uneven landings – jumping, fist-pumping, sweating off makeup, and damp, stained new merch shirts that were bought two hours before. The energy stayed high from “It's Me Maria” (the second song in the set) to one of their most notable songs, “27a PitField St,” where the crowd screamed in unison the lyrics between the third and fourth verse of the song, “ Equilibrium time, work and play and I play now,” to the little ending notes of Ricochet, as you watched a rock skip across a body of water. Even beyond as they played one of their last song,” Final song”, which observed the people in the upper deck patio of the venue, I saw people look down and pointing at the duo, in what seemed like an appreciation of the set the duo had performed for an about an hour.
The entire night was a blur of pure positive chaos: giant wrapped shield-lens sunglasses getting scratched up, people in layered outfits slowly taking all their extra accessories off, and new merch flags – like my friend’s – getting swallowed into the black hole of the moving mosh pit and the loss of 25 dollars. It was an experience that proved you don't need to know every song beforehand; you just need to feel the energy of the music and atmosphere to experience a full-body moment with the music, then just listening itself.
I do think I need to take Ike's advice next time, though: “If you like listening to Bassvictim music, I think you should protect your ears.” Because I was, in fact, a victim of the bass.