29.06.2011, Words by Ruth Saxelby


It’s raining lasers in Space. A sea of faces bob up and down, bodies moving at a gentler pace than they’re used to in the Discoteca room of the seminal Ibizan club. High above us, set back from the DJ box, are Blondes, playing what feels like the gig of their life. Somewhat surreally, two giant smiley face balloons hang above them. Like the lasers, their sound falls down on us, rippling out to flood the room. They’ve never sounded bigger or more lucid. Every moment flows seamlessly into the next, the tension swells and releases to the rhythm of an alien heartbeat. They may not be the usual Ibiza fare but Blondes have Balearic running through their veins.

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