Thousands of ravers converged from Southern California and beyond for Skyline Los Angeles, an exhilarating two-day house and techno festival that transformed several city blocks.
Insomniac and Factory 93 returned for the fourth year of the Skyline festival, unleashing a wave of excitement across the streets of Los Angeles. Buses were rerouted, and numerous streets were closed off for the event. Amid the chaos on the second night, a thought crossed my mind: “Who even authorized this?”
Yet, I wasn’t complaining. The Skyline weekend reaffirmed that Los Angeles is essentially one huge party masquerading as a city. The festival took place at Gloria Molina Grand Park, and it was a fantastic experience. The notion that “people in LA don’t dance” was quickly debunked. The SoCal ravers were ready to party.
The atmosphere at Skyline Los Angeles buzzed as guests began to gather. “Fans, fans, fans! All fans ten bucks!” shouted a vendor on Temple Street. Outside the venue, a promoter in a hoodie brandished an “Afters?” sign with a QR code. Upon my arrival at the entrance, there was no line, but I paused to gulp down the rest of my water. The security staff were in a jovial mood, encouraging me to chug faster.
The weather was beautiful both days. The kind of gentle spring sunshine that seeps into your clothes and casts a spell over everyone, making everything feel vibrant and reminding us why we endure the notorious traffic.
Saturday’s vibe was pure bliss with sunshine, good energy, and perfect harmony.
Throughout the day, I kept running into the same strangers, who eventually became my new friends. At one point, I found myself dancing next to WELKER, an artist I had recently interviewed for EDM Identity. Everything was going splendidly.
The restrooms were clean and conveniently located. There were plenty of accessible bars and filtered water stations on both sides of the venue. Liquid Deaths were reasonably priced at five dollars each. A mocktail bar adorned with faux ivy between the stages offered bubbly, non-alcoholic “social tonics” by hiyo, infused with delightful nootropics like ashwagandha and lion’s mane. Shade was scarce near the stages, aside from a few trees, but the air was pleasant, and soon enough, the sun began to set behind the buildings.
Mia Moretti kicked off the festivities on the West Side stage. At a festival like this, where I wasn’t overly familiar with the lineup, I wandered around until one of the DJs captivated my attention. Mia Moretti succeeded in doing just that, so I stayed. Most attendees had yet to arrive, but the early birds were already on the dance floor. As I stepped onto the nearly empty metal floor, I felt a touch self-conscious.
I moved over to the East Side stage just as a police helicopter landed nearby. The sound of the chopper was almost drowned out by the booming bass from the industrial array of speakers below the landing pad. The helicopter’s low drone seamlessly blended into the festival atmosphere. At that moment, it felt like the perfect setting for a house and techno festival.
I stepped onto the spacious metal dance floor as KinAhau vibed with the growing crowd. A kandi bracelet was tossed on stage, and he caught it effortlessly. The dance floor was filled with the scent of cigarette smoke as everyone danced freely. Small digital cameras captured moments of joy and camaraderie from the crowd.
One raver I spoke with remarked that the East Side stage had an intimate vibe, as the production was grand, but the dance floor was relatively narrow. The sound quality at both the East and West Side stages was exceptional.
However, the Arts District Stage left something to be desired. The bass bleed-over was terrible, and I could almost feel the DJ’s frustration from behind the booth (or perhaps it was my own feelings projecting) when their drops were overshadowed by the relentless thumping from the East Side stage. Getting close to the speakers could almost make you forget about the two main stages, but not entirely.
The first night wrapped up with a legendary back-to-back set from Seth Troxler and Honey Dijon. I found myself wandering through the quiet streets near downtown, my platform combat boots in hand. After nearly twelve hours of dancing, my Docs were too much to bear. As I walked along the sidewalk in my socks, I fell in love with Los Angeles all over again.
Sunday’s vibe took a wild turn.
I should have anticipated the shift as the fan vendors and after-party promoters outside the venue were replaced by religious protesters wielding megaphones. They held a hefty sign proclaiming, “The wrath of God abides upon the children of disobedience,” while throngs of revelers rushed past in sheer tights, clutching buzz balls. The party was in full swing.
As day turned to night, the atmosphere became more intense. The festival had truly taken over the city, and behind those opaque gates, it was pure rave madness. The music was unrelenting. Fuzzy coats, leather, towering boots, and glitter blurred in and out of focus. The edgy Mad Max energy typically associated with DTLA seeped into the festival grounds. It was hard to believe I was just minutes from my apartment.
The sense of exhilaration was palpable. One raver I chatted with felt completely overwhelmed by the time GORDO took the stage. To spice things up, GORDO played “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” urging everyone to raise their phone lights to “send it to Dreezy.” The crowd’s reaction was mixed; some booed while others sang along. Regardless of these antics, his “Crazy Frog” drop was a highlight of my night.
Day two saw noticeably larger crowds, and I, too, succumbed to moments of genuine overwhelm, lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I took a moment to sit in the middle of Hill Street, gazing at the inactive traffic lights glowing above me. I chuckled at the thought of having crossed this road countless times during my commute. Now, whenever I pass by, I’ll remember the time I raved here. At one point, someone rushed past me with a light-up drum. God help us. I was admittedly a bit dazed.
By some miracle, I managed to squeeze my way to the front to catch a glimpse of Matroda’s set. The crowd up front was impressively courteous, albeit cramped. The “HOT” sticker people were out in full force, and I ended up with one on my cheek while making my way to the rail. Despite the chaos, or perhaps because of it, the music thrived. Cloonee’s Party All the Time remix brought me joy and had me singing along.
The Porta Potty area on the East Side turned into a muddy labyrinth, and the foot-pump hand-wash stations barely dispensed any water. By sunset on the second day, the quality of Skyline’s facilities had significantly declined. By the end of the night, I encountered one attendee dancing with an entire roll of toilet paper. When I asked if he had brought it with him, he shook his head and said a security guard had given it to him for reasons that were unclear.
Throughout the weekend, attendees buzzed about Skyline’s closing set featuring Nico Moreno and TRYM. I had to see it for myself. I was not disappointed. Although I’m relatively new to techno, I was enveloped by the enchanting trance beats and near-blinding flashing lights.
I pushed my glasses up my nose to shut my eyes for a moment or two. I had escaped the colorful, house-infused chaos of the East Side and crawled into the heart of the beast. I arrived in a realm where space and time were trivial compared to the ferocious beats. I felt suspended in techno limbo, floating on air, when suddenly I snapped back to reality as someone crashed through the crowd towards me. They mumbled an apology and hurried away.
I was reminded that the festival ended at eleven instead of midnight. The conclusion felt abrupt—suddenly, the music stopped, leaving only ringing ears, lights on, and a frantic rush for restrooms and exits. However, I lingered in the final moments. As I made my way to the Arts District stage, I encountered Thor Wixom (AKA Thor God of Bass), a talented cinematographer and Steadicam operator. His multi-colored braids radiated warmly under the black lights.
He offered me a brief blessing under his braids, and I felt the serendipity that had eluded me since Saturday come together once more. It was a genuine rave moment. I asked if he’d like to say something “on the record.” Thor smiled and agreed. I pulled out my Voice Memos app and pressed record. “Life is short; you’re never too old to rave. Because the older you get, the shorter it is. So go out there and rave.”
Everything was meant to be on that night at the edge of forever. Moonlight and streetlights bathed us in the heart of our beloved party town.
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