Last Saturday night, I found myself in a dark room filled with strangers.
Marrakech – No, this isn’t the beginning of a Dateline episode — it’s the story of my induction into the world of techno music.
Spoiler: It’s not just about the music; it’s a way of life.
For years, techno had been an enigma to me.
To outsiders, it’s repetitive beats, strobe lights, and people wearing sunglasses indoors.
But to its devotees, it’s a religion. A late-night communion where you don’t need words.
It all started with a friend — let’s call him Adam.
He’s the kind of guy who thinks sleep is overrated and speaks in DJ names instead of actual sentences. “Ben Bohmer,” “Boris Brejcha,” “Two Lanes.”
At first, I thought these were locations or exotic dishes.
Turns out, they’re techno legends. And somehow, he convinced me to go to a warehouse rave.
Now, if you’re like me, your idea of a Saturday night might involve a glass of wine, a good Netflix binge, and being in bed by midnight. But this time, midnight was just the beginning.
When I walked in, I was hit by an energy I can only describe as primal.
The bass wasn’t just music — it was a heartbeat, a force pulling everyone together.
The crowd? A mix of leather jackets, neon accessories, and those suspiciously perfect “messy” hairstyles. You know the type.
As the beat dropped and the lights flickered, I realized techno isn’t about “getting” it.
It’s about feeling it. It’s letting go of timelines, schedules, and small talk. It’s a shared rhythm where words are unnecessary, and emotions are amplified.
And the DJs? Modern-day shamans. The way they control a room full of people with just a turn of a knob is nothing short of alchemy.
By 3 AM, I was dancing like no one was watching (which they weren’t, because everyone was too busy losing themselves).
By 6 AM, I was watching the sunrise, the echo of basslines still in my ears.
And by noon, I was questioning everything I thought I knew about fun.
Techno might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but maybe that’s the point.
It’s a culture that embraces the weird, the wild, and the wonderful.
So, the next time you hear the call of the bass, maybe answer it. Who knows? You might just find a new rhythm to your life.
After all, as I learned that night, life’s too short for silence.
