Once a year, something very strange happens, something that inspires both awe and nausea. Fort Armistead Park, in the outskirts of Baltimore, MD, transforms into a countercultural mecca, uniting every species of music lover in a freakish carnival of civil disobedience and epic bass drops. Yes, the annual Starscape Festival, has come and gone, and I survived to tell the tale.
Besides the music, and endless dance party, I go for extreme people watching. You tend to run into interesting characters: preps dripping head to toe in neon, Jersey Shore rejects, punks, true ravers in their glowing Tron suits/bikinis with fishnets, and every sort of person in between, giving you a sneak peak into the absurdities to come in the next sixteen hours of being bass-fucked.
The venue itself is incredible. Five stages: a main stage, dance tent, beach stage, Steeze Promo bass arena, and the fort stage. The fort is probably my favorite, just because it is like a clubhouse for adults. Grey stone is drenched in graffiti art, some of which happens right before your eyes, and it has a secluded location deep in the woods.
The beach stage is nice for a breather and is lined with vendors offering all sorts of services: food, alcohol, body paint, and all sorts of jewelry and clothing. Location combined with a vast area of spectators—a majority in costume, glitter, and neon—Starscape is a lot like Disney Land. On LSD.
DJ Who, whom we saw at the U-Hall Memorial Weekend Blowout, performed for the VIPs, while we listened from our hiding spot in the rocks of the fort. Skrillex, Bonny More, led a dub-step assault on the beach stage, making my heart beat in rhythm with the bass while I tried to fiddle with a glow-stick. However, I quickly lost my glow-stick, and my confidence, to a fan with moves so impressive, I questioned whether he did anything else in his spare time.
Later that night, there was a stampede to the main stage for Bassnectar, a lineup that also included Israeli trance group Infected Mushroom. I almost didn’t survive the sets due to a demon pixie who made it her mission to keep me and my friends separated in the crowd. It is hard to dance when packed together like sardines, at least that is what I kept telling myself during the endless nudging war between myself and the pixie demon. We finally defeated her, mosh-pit style, but this caused us to be rib-crunchingly close, so we left and went on a much more dangerous mission—to use the Porta Potties.
I don’t know what is more disgusting: using a Porta-Potty after twelve hours of use and sizzling in the hot sun, the amount of trash left behind in the park after the festival died down, or the moment you realize that the dark tan you think you have gotten from being outside all day is actually dirt. Despite the grime, Starscape is a truly out of this world experience. Even if you were not one of the people with pupils the size of quarters.
Starscape: its for the music, the people, the stories, but most importantly, the sixteen hour dance fest.
My feet are still throbbing, and so are the beats in my head.
