The whole night was a delight, but we were particularly blown away by U, with his Cronenberg/Wild Palms TV set up, and his all-encompassing electronic music, one moment of intolerable flaying by blunt giant cylindrical fingers, followed by another spent boogieing levitationally across ill-defined ketaminic strata.
It was like plugging into some sort of panopticon style Russian novel if you replace the varied circumstances of the populace before the Bolshevik revolution, with the varied circumstances of humanity in a cyberpunk, data-overloaded, neon-crypto-message pumping world that’s already arrived, how come you didn’t notice?
You were distracted by the shiny lights and the bumping beats, that’s why.
You pass through it as if through a collection of scented, iridescent membranes, leaving something behind, maybe a digital copy of your brain took a wrong turn and ended trapped in U’s murky alcove? Hard to prove that, but don’t worry, if it did, U has enough tricks, twists and traps to keep that other U entertained until the heat death of the universe.