- 20 hours long and nestled in between Amnesia and DC-10's closing parties, Space Ibiza's marathon finale is the longest and hardest of the three to get right. Getting the most out of it requires careful planning. Go too late and you risk missing the festival-sized outdoor stage, which is always one of the more impressive spectacles of the season. Go too early, though, and you might have to call it a day before Nic Fanciulli and Carl Cox spin their annual, sun-lit, classics-strewn back-to-back to close out the Terrace. In the two years I've been covering Ibiza, I've never made it through to the final hours, but this year I was determined to find a way.
To my advantage, my press accreditation allowed me to leave and re-enter at anytime during the day or night. I headed down around 10 PM to catch the second half of Luciano, who was turning out driving, hands-in-the-air tech house to thousands outside. He's too often dull these days, but the sense of occasion had brought out his more charismatic side. The DJ booth, which this year resembled some sort of triangular spaceship, had been lowered and brought closer to the floor, inviting the majority Spanish audience to really let loose and holler their appreciation. The sound and visuals were as impeccable as ever, matching kaleidoscopic patterns and towering, gyrating figures to the music in real time.
The unmistakable silhouette of Carl Cox appeared behind the decks bang on 11:30 PM. Whatever you make of the dance music juggernaut these days, there's no denying the standing he holds at Space and the heartening effect his presence has over the club's crowd. He was on particularly feel-good form on Sunday night, sprinkling his signature big room techno with piano house and edits of disco and soul classics (Jenny Burton's "Bad Habits"). Every time he got on the mic, the sea of faces erupted in cheers. I left with half-hour of his set to go, and when I returned several hours later, he was back spinning alongside Fanciulli in the Terrace.
But Cox didn't stick around for long. I'd barely been there ten minutes when he suddenly disappeared (rumours have it that he fell ill). Fanciulli, now all alone, proved himself more than capable of steering the ship home. It was 10 AM by this point, sunlight was streaming through the back windows and the vibe inside was incredible. There were people everywhere, some of them decked out in fancy dress leftovers from Elrow's Sunset Terrace takeover, and all of them wearing wild smiles and dancing with abandon. Space's owner Pepe Roselló was doing the rounds handing out drink tickets to anyone he passed; staff stood arm-in-arm with punters on the bar; the VIP lot waved sparklers and Space flags above their heads. Even the bouncers, usually a sinister bunch, were grinning and tapping their feet. I've only ever seen clips of the old, open-air Terrace in its heyday, but I reckon the atmosphere on Sunday morning wasn't far off.
Fanciulli, meanwhile, hammered the hits. Donna Summer's "I Feel Love," Armand Van Helden's remix of Tori Amos' "Professional Widow," Ce Ce Peniston's "Finally" and Bronski Beat's "Smalltown Boy" were some of many. These were just rewards for making it through to the bitter end. Space Ibiza has one more season left on its lease. If 2016 does end up as the club's final hurrah, next year's closing is going to be one hell of a send-off.
Photo credit: Tasya Menaker