HIJINX 2025

“Year 3: When the Bass Drops So Hard the Building Falls Apart”

Year 3 in the books! And let me tell you, it is a miracle that no wooks were harmed in what almost became the live action reboot of Final Destination at HIJINX this year. You know a festival is going hard when the venue itself starts to tap out. During the third song of Zingara’s set, the bass was hitting with such violent, beautiful intensity that it literally vibrated a vent cover loose. I watched it pop off and dangle ominously above the crowd like a heavy metal Sword of Damocles. Most people would run; we just stared at it and waited for the next drop. That is the level of commitment we bring to the floor.

HiJinx is a full send two day festival that brings some of the best artists together in Philly for two nights of absolute mayhem. But let’s be real. We aren’t just attending a music festival. We are engaging in an annual mass ritual to grab the New Year by the throat, throw the bass in its face, and remember what is actually important as we ring in the future. It is the rave finish line of a 365 day marathon. Lasers blasted our faces while the saxophone from GRiZ melted our minds into an EDM trance of pure bliss. It wasn’t just music; it was a spiritual reset button pressed by a funkstep wizard.

There is a specific kind of magic that happens when you pack twenty thousand feral bass heads into a room the size of an aircraft carrier. The air stops being air and becomes a physical substance, vibrating with potential energy. When the lights go down and that first drop hits, it is not just sound. It is percussive therapy. My ears tingled and my nose actually itched all weekend because the bass went so hard it was vibrating the cartilage in my face. That is the kind of abuse I signed up for.

I stood there looking like a neon warrior, wearing my third eye sunglasses, my Level Up and Subtronics Jersey, and my glow in the dark green jacket keeping me warm against the phantom chill of the real world. I was surrounded by a sea of beautiful people wearing everything from pashminas and bucket hats to those ubiquitous little clip on sprouts attached to everything. In that chaos, I felt a profound sense of peace. Yes, peace. In the middle of a dubstep drop that touches your soul, I actually burst out into tears a few times. This is where I find my Zen. The outside world ceases to exist. There are no emails here. There are no bills. There are only the rhythms to feel joy, love, and Wubz.

We danced away the stress, the failures, and the absurdity of the past year. We sweat out the bad vibes and replaced them with pure, unadulterated dopamine. It was twenty thousand of us looking at the future and shouting, “We are still here. We are still alive and kicking.” It is the most optimistic way to start a year. You aren’t sitting on a couch wishing for things to get better; you are on your feet making the moment perfect.

Seeing the joy on everyone’s faces, from the wide eyed first timers experiencing their first laser bath to the seasoned veterans like myself, renewed my faith in this chaotic culture. We are a tribe. A weird, glittery, bass loving tribe. And as I walked out into the Philadelphia night, ears ringing with the phantom echoes of the main stage, I didn’t feel old. I felt recharged.

Here’s to the bass. Here’s to the lasers. And here’s to one more year of raving. I’ll see you on the rail.