Nothing But the Beat: Creamfields BA
Study abroad is the time to try new things in completely uncharted territory, and I have definitely done exactly that over the past four months in Buenos Aires. This past weekend was no different as I experienced my first house music festival. Being from Miami, it shocks people that I have yet to attend Ultra, but in high school it was not quite my scene. The past two summers, I have dabbled in house music concerts, but nothing quite like Creamfields Buenos Aires.
It was a marathon that was ran like a sprint. Jumping, dancing, electrified for nine hours with roughly 80,000 others. It was surreal. Right now, as I lie in my bed 18 hours later, my body aches, my vocal chords are shot, my eyes burn, and my ears are still faintly ringing.
The night began before the sun even set as we gathered with dozens of other Americans to board buses that would take us over an hour outside of the city to the festival’s location. By the time we entered the gates, it was a mere 9pm. The marathon was about to begin. We would not see the outside of those gates until it was broad daylight at 6:30am. It was the beginning of a long, epic night.
Our first stop: Afrojack. Since he was not performing on the center stage, we were cramped under a tent filled with thousands of people that was easily over a hundred degrees. Imagine Down Dog Yoga, but with people jumping all around and over you. Everyone was dripping in sweat, the humidity was worse than DC in the summer, and it was packed to the rim, yet still everyone reveled as the music reverberated throughout. Moshpits were everywhere. While everyone jumped to the beat, we attempted to fend off any loose cannons with our arms while still jumping ourselves. The energy was unrivaled. The night had just begun.
The highlight of Creamfields was unquestionably David Guetta’s headlining act between 1:30 and 3:30am. For just over two hours in the middle of the night (or technically, the morning), a skinny Frenchman in a sleek leather jacket captivated a sprawling crowd of tens of thousands of people while barely uttering a word. He is one of the most popular musical performers on the planet in a genre that is exploding in popularity, yet he needs not open his mouth. While our parents are utterly confused with such an idea, our generation embraces it.
For two non-stop hours, Guetta was the king of Buenos Aires. Everyone was loving him and loving Creamfields. It was an unbelievable atmosphere. As I sat atop my friend’s shoulders during Guetta’s set, I was awestruck by what surrounded me: a vast sea of a crowd that undulated with the beat in an odd sort of unison. The LCD screens behind the man with the laptop said it all: Nothing But the Beat. That’s exactly how I would describe Creamfields BA. It was a night and morning that was about nothing else but the beat of the music. A beat that brought a group of fifteen of us together with tens of thousands of Argentines for a night that we will always share and never forget. We had literally danced until the sunrise and savored every single second of it.Â