Earlier this month (5 December), I had the most psychedelic experience of my life. And it didn’t involve any drugs.
Deep in the bush, in a lush valley between two magnificent mountain peaks, a small crew of doofers gathered to celebrate the birth of a new Queensland festival – Metamorphosis. The sole purpose of the event was to bring us the kind of music we rarely get to hear in Australia.
The line-up promised a non-stop onslaught of full-power psychedelic awesomeness; and it delivered whole-heartedly. I could write a million words about all the talented artists who played music that weekend. There was beauty in every set and I spent so many happy moments taking it all in. But I have limited time and space and there is one artist in particular whose story I need to tell.
Unless you’re a dedicated psychonaut, chances are you’ve never heard of Procs. Neither had I until this year. I saw him play about six months ago at Freqs Of Nature in Berlin, but had come in halfway through his set and didn’t quite get it. I thought I was in for more of the same at Metamorphosis.
There was an uncomfortable quality to his music in the beginning. The sounds tangled around each other, pulled in strange, discordant directions by the erratic bassline.
It was intensely, almost unpleasantly, psychedelic; the musical equivalent to the overpowering and unsettling phase when you’re coming up on a large dose of LSD. I sat down for this part of his set, a bit annoyed that it was going to be the only music for the next three hours but resigned to the idea of just chatting my way through it.
Then something happened. I can’t tell you exactly what changed but something did. I stood up, driven by a need to be on my feet and closer to the music.
The soundscape was still intensely psychedelic but, just like when your trip finally settles in, the unpleasant quality was gone. I felt like a little monster, stomping about in a twisted, swampy forest full of mud and tiny critters.
I connected with some friends who were also feeling the monster vibe and we stomped and played around, completely engrossed in our characters. You don’t dance to Procs in the traditional sense. You’re a puppet, controlled by his music more than your own mind, embodying the characters he creates.
Small sections of music somehow emanated from all sorts of odd places around the dancefloor. At one point, tiny umbrellas of sound popped up around me, then hung, undulating in the air above, their melody completely mismatched to the rest of the track yet somehow dancing with it perfectly.
Image © Jacqui ReynoldsThis completely tripped-out music was all emanating from a giant octopus. Waves of lasers pulsed out from it and a projector created constantly shifting kaleidoscopic patterns on its body.
Through clever video-mapping, the creature’s eyes, tentacles and the water surrounding it all bore different patterns, making it seem like it was, in its own way, alive.
As the music changed, so did the lasers and light patterns. The dancefloor was completely engulfed in smoke, lights and lasers, all real-world landmarks were eclipsed, leaving it to the music to create the landscape.
Procs propelled us through multiple, increasingly bizarre dimensions. The hectic-ness kept building exponentially until we reached a frenetic peak in which I felt like we were in a circus on a spaceship being sucked into a black hole.
Finally, there was a sense that we were re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. Our descent was rapid but gentle and I was left breathless, slightly confused and profoundly euphoric.
Image © Dan DanteraOur senses overwhelmed, my friends and I gathered in the dome beside the dancefloor to come down from the immense high we were all on from the musical journey.
By the time I had somewhat recovered, Farebi Jalebi was playing and the sun was beginning to exhume the rolling, emerald landscape around us from the shadows.
I moved to the dancefloor and stood, hands in pockets, gently bouncing and staring in awe at the towering kaleidoscopic octopus. Lasers swooped through feathery swirls of smoke, rippling waves of rainbow light enveloping us as the octopus warped and moved, its hypnotic eyes flickering and spiralling.
I have been to more than 30 festivals this year, both within Australia and overseas, and have seen some incredibly high-level productions but I can say, without hesitation, this was the most captivating visual experience I have ever had. That monstrous octopus was alive and writhing in perfect harmony with the music.
From the heady peak that was Procs, we travelled with tingling spines through dark forests with Farebi Jalebi and Windowpane. The last hint of night-time was farewelled with the first notes of hi-tech from Phsiris.
His set was fast, quirky and playful with a deep, haunting undercurrent flowing beneath it. I have seen him play so many times now but something in his music always stretches out and wraps itself around my insides.
The rest of the day was a delirious blend of scorching sunshine, gloriously cool breezes and cranking tunes. There is seriously nothing like a solid hi-tech session in the daytime. It creates a beautifully chaotic environment; the kind of place where the sentence: “I can’t see through this unicorn because of the chicken legs sticking out its nostrils” makes perfect sense.
Many words were said to me that day; some ridiculous, some profound, but my favourites came from one of the organisers when I was thanking him for the unrelentingly awesome, psychedelic journey I had been on: “How are we ever going to top this next year?”
Just knowing that this is their intention gives me absolute confidence they’ll be able to pull it off. I can’t imagine how, but I know for sure I’ll be there to find out.
