This past Saturday I was on review for rising star DJ Carnage at Webster Hall. Having little knowledge of the artist, I sampled his SoundCloud prior to the show for a feel of what I’d be getting into. His catalogue of dirty euro-trance/trap hybrid bangers, fittingly labeled as “Festival Music” gave an idea that Webster Hall would have a nice turnout for this seemingly unknown DJ. I had no f*cking clue.

Immediately upon entering the labyrinth that is Webster the energy of a thousand little rave sluts, B&T guido’s, and underage kandi kids hits me like a train. Overdressed and fearing for my life I climb upstairs to be pushed and shoved by the aforementioned habitués inside the packed sauna that became Webster’s Grand Ballroom.

I weasel my way through the gridlock and am ready to call it a night. I don’t know who this DJ is, I can’t see the stage, and I can’t distinguish what’s playing on the sound system. Fortunately my VIP connect comes through granting me a breath of fresh air on the Balcony, a haven from the cesspool below. At my new vantage point I now see the massive crowd below. I’ve been to Webster Hall more times than I should be proud of, but never in my years have I seen such a suffocated crowd. Who the f*ck is this DJ Carnage?

My answer arrives on the decks in the form of a rotund Guatemalan man in sunglasses. A click of the switch and suddenly the speakers are on full blast; injecting the room with pounding big room electro filth to a horde of Webster’s finest fiends. The fervid mob is literally raging to his sound as he’s manifesting a battle call with every hard drop to each dreamy build; leading the crowd to march to his beat. While a trap arrangement was expected, Carnage maintained a house set with redundant drops that were predictable after an hour of playing. Yet the crowd didn’t seem to notice and energy levels flourished consistently throughout his set. Some surprises were thrown in with a nostalgic taste of moombahton, a play through of Borgore’s “Love,” and a remix of M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes.”

Not enough trap for these kids...

But the most notable surprise came in the form of this text from our photographer Alex Paz: “Tiësto is here.”

Tiësto is here? I look to my left. Tiësto is here. Surrounded by bimbos, slamming patron, and pumping his fist to the sounds of Carnage on the balcony at Webster Hall. Seriously who the f*ck is this Carnage?

We slide over to Tiësto to pay our respects. “You’re the happiest DJ!” my S.O. exclaims. “Yes I’m a happy camper!” Tiësto replies. He offers us Jager, we take shots, and then without a word he exits the balcony.

“Webster Hall I have a surprise for you,” says the weighty man on stage. “My big brother is here to join me.” In a flash Tiësto is now on stage playing “Adagio for Strings”. Energy level is now at 150%. Photographers are in frenzy, the crowd is in hysterics, and I can’t believe I almost left early. Who the f*ck is DJ Carnage?

At this point kids are walking on top of the crowd it’s so congested, and the ratchets are literally sweating their panties off. I sh*t you not this is happening. Tiesto has now retreated to the greenroom; I’m on stage and notice an MPC machine next to the decks.
“New York I have one more surprise for you,” the lovable Carnage shouts. “AraabMuzik is in the building!”

The MVP of the MPC takes the stage, his dwarf like stature next to large and in charge Carnage made insignificant by his prowess on the drum machine. The crowd is now completely losing there shit as AraabMuzik goes HAM on Buraka Som Sistema’s “Hangover (BaBaBa)"; his quick-fire finger blasting frightening every vagina within a twenty feet radius.

The guest has finished his performance but confetti continues to rain and Carnage progresses with his show, playing SHM’s “Don’t You Worry Child.” I assume this is his epic final song. A sudden mix into the drop of Knife Party’s “Power Glove” proves me wrong. Carnage can’t stop. It’s 4 AM and the room hasn’t emptied a bit. I have no idea where this night came from. Who the f*ck is DJ Carnage.

And of course, a Tweet from the man himself to close things out...