Crikey, it's not every Friday night that Brisbane's The Fortitude Music Hall transforms into an intergalactic rave.
Boris Brejcha's opening Australian tour show (17 January) is my first review assignment for 2025, and I couldn't be more ready to dive headfirst into this sonic odyssey.Handsdown & Leighboy waste no time grabbing us by the ears and dragging us into their world of groovy basslines and hypnotic drops. It feels like Brisbane's summer has followed us indoors, turning FMH into a cauldron of pulsing heat and energy.
Moritz Hofbauer (live) takes over with a seamless blend of progressive builds and thumping basslines, setting the floor alive with movement. Then comes Ann Clue, her artful set building the atmosphere to something seismic. It's not a warm-up – it's a prelude to ignition. By the time she wraps, the room is heavy with sweat and camaraderie, buzzing with anticipation.
The air practically hums as we wait for that first pulse of Brejcha's signature sound. When it arrives – ushered in by 'Tale Of Light (Intro Edit)' – it's not just an opening, it's a summons.
The stage erupts with piercing light, smoke from CO2 cannons, and the electrifying resonance of high-tech minimal beats. In that moment, Brisbane disappears, and we're transported into Brejcha's world.
The FMH surges with a collective grin. Generations collide on the dancefloor: confident two-steppers, rave-hungry addicts peaking at 'Python', and even a few traffic-controller-turned-dancefloor-lords showing off their 'day job chic' moves. It's chaos, but it's glorious.
Brejcha's mastery is unmatched. His surgical precision in slicing and layering rhythms makes standing still impossible. Those lingering on the fringes of the floor look ridiculous; the beats demand motion.
As his set bleeds seamlessly from one track to the next, the crowd moves like a living organism, rising and falling with every build and drop. On the mezzanine, punters lean against the barrier, bouncing in sync with the pogo-stick energy of the floor below.
The visuals? They're not just an accompaniment, they're a full-blown sensory trip. Psychedelic bursts of colour and Brejcha-blue neon light weave through cannon smoke, transforming the stage into a futuristic dreamscape.
The lighting syncs so tightly with the music it feels like the beams are conducting our movements. Trancey without the trance, chaotic without being overcooked – it's pure Brejcha.
Somewhere in this mammoth three-hour set, it hits me: this isn't just a rave, it's an EDM pilgrimage. Young ravers on their first electronic odyssey dance shoulder-to-shoulder with seasoned pros who have BPMs etched into their DNA.
There's an unspoken camaraderie in the air, lifting the energy to euphoric heights. A raver decked out in full festival regalia twirls with streamers that whip anyone within range – not that anyone cares. Nearby, a punk-goth couple moves intimately to the beats, their connection mirrored in the vibe of the entire room. Judgment doesn't exist here – just unfiltered joy.
With each drop, the crowd transforms further. Sweaty dancers become drenched, a tour tee is ripped off and swung like a rave flag, and a paper fan takes flight across the floor. It's messy, it's raw, and it's magic.
Watching Brejcha command the stage, it's impossible not to think about his journey. Surviving the Ramstein air show disaster at six left him with scars, but also ignited his obsession with sound.
By 2006, he debuted at Brazil's Universo Paralello, where his Joker mask – a playful nod to Carnival – made its first appearance. That mask isn't just a symbol; it's a statement, representing the intense, playful identity of his music.
High-tech minimal isn't just a genre – it's Brejcha’s DNA. He doesn't just play a set; he tells a story, crafting a narrative that we, the crowd, get to co-write on the FMH dance floor.
I may have made my departure before Handsdown & Leigh returned to the desk to keep the party people in their happy state until 3am, but one thing is clear: a Friday night in Brisbane has never felt more like a Saturday in Berlin. Oh yes, I've been to Berlin – and now, I've been to Brejcha.
