Not a “vinyl crackle” silence. Not a “dramatic pause” silence. The silence. The kind of silence where you hear the ice clinking in a VIP bottle girl’s tray 200 feet away.
The Night the Decks Died: David Guetta’s 3 Minutes of Pure Horror
The bass is throbbing. The champagne is spraying. Ten thousand phones are in the air, recording what is supposed to be the highlight of EDC Week.
