Throughout the summer Rosello's Space has maintained a relatively polished aesthetic. Operations have run smoothly, the majority of nights have brimmed weekly to the tune of bubbling capacity and musically the superclub has displayed a breadth of diversity beyond, over and above any other island haunt. From the comfortable pull of Cox's Revolution to the carefully edged programming of the Kehakuma collective this has been a season of slight experimentation and intelligent consolidation.
As the years wear on the trend for extended Closing Parties has caught and multiplied. In a similar fashion to its clubbing counterparts, Space's final fiesta began at an early four in the afternoon - its planned trajectory lasting until around midday the following morning. For the opening and closing parties Space turn the tarmac at the rear of the club into a sprawling outdoor stage complete with horizon conquering production stage and a literal inferno of light. Ultra, the corporate giant behind the similarly named Miami festival, label and usually hi-nrg electronica sound hosted the outdoor stage - which truly dwarfed everything. Carl Cox struck a tiny yet immediately identifiable silhouette in the distance as he pocketed the party mantle from Hawtin and Gaiser before him. Normally only seen amongst recent progressive European festivals and of course - the burgeoning EDM scene across the water - the size of the occasion seemed literally suitable. Cox spun a travelling set skipping this way and that between every conceivable strain of modern-come-classic techno. Flirting with euphoric soul before plummeting into minimal swamps the size and stasis of the crowd confirmed the continuing appreciation for the ever-affable curator. In the club proper an extensive gaggle of residents and island settlers were expressing their wares in cosier climes. DJ Remo, of Milan manned the flagship Discoteca and provided one of the night's auditory highlights. A low, considered groove bound from point to point filling the then sparse space with a well-formed sonic darkness. This season has shown me that Time is the most potent tool in a DJ's arsenal and Remo produced a well-formed journey with deft exactitude as minimal snickers and smiles ran over a core of flopping hums.
Wink was the first heavyweight to grace the interior situation. His sparse compositions seemed set with an inherent glow - melodic scrapes and stabs of machine funk twisted between a jittering low-end. Progression was the key as Wink flicked - switch like - between light and dark, casually unfolding a sonic journey which was never reliably predicted. A live set from Argentinian export Guti proved another brain-tickling choice. Guti is an artist with the sublime talent and ability to constantly shed expectations and embrace self-reinvention. A departure from said wrongly assumed sun-kissed vibe led to simplistic yet effective compositions beset by heavy timbres and enthusiastically powerful sub-bass. Peppered with Latin knocks and ditsy feminine vocal his lightly manipulated beats did remain in the realm of the functional.
In the Terraza, Reeves handled a dancefloor that seemed set to auto-bustle before Edu Imbernon galvanised proceedings with a slew of infectious, irresistibly jacking favourites (I am loathe to label them 'hits' as although recognisable all remained exclusively rooted in the underground). John Tejada's Mono On Mono, with its beautifully wriggling sounds dealt in minimalism before Voorn's Magnolia remix of Dark Flower by Robert Babicz attested to Imbernon's continuing style of sound - often scant but always dripping with a certain electro spirit. In the main room the complete yet thankfully temporary failure of one turntable meant for pokey end of record silence and thunderous applause as Kraviz attempted to keep her professional cool. Mired in her usual heavyset techno her sound showed more flair - more ear-weirdness - than previous displays as Nina's trademark semi-acid tones ran parallel to fresh, tickling percussion. Back to the Terrazza and the billed special guest - to join Cox in a morning back to back affair - was revealed to be tech-head Nic Fanciulli. As the sun forced its way onto the tips of fingers and crests of bowed heads - the answer was not to abandon the pursuit of hedonism but resolutely continue it. Whilst many clubs on the island seem to rely on past glories or the merit of their own existence, their own egotism, Space at least continues to explore new avenues with zest. Toying with nights who deliver wholly different concepts whilst forging stronger paths with the shakers of the mainland music scene are values that define Space as a modern force on Ibiza and suggest its continuing, upwards evolution.
Words by Michael Huntington, Photography by James Chapman.
