The Juice Box

Rating: 5 out of 5 bottles of water

by Leif Wauters

I never thought a dance party could make someone cry so much, but that’s exactly what Sydney’s Toybox did to our friend Mike last Sunday due to joy overload. It was a similar reaction for other first-timers, my partner Mo included. Between magnificent music, a horny crowd, fun surprises, and the most ridiculously fantastic light show we’ve ever seen, overload was unavoidable.

After a relatively early night from Mardi Gras the night before, Mo and I woke around 10 AM to a text from our party companions, Steve and Mike, calling the troops to action for Toybox. We showered, donned some gay attire, forced down a bite and had a sunny trot over to Taylor Square where we would meet to share a cab across the Harbour Bridge to Sydney’s classic home of family amusement, Luna Park. We were greeted at the doors to the event by a stout, yet lovely, fairy then went through a thorough pat-down before being quickly ushered inside. Once again the threat of heavy security didn’t materialize and entrance to the party was a breeze, although a relatively removed but noticeable police presence could be felt throughout the night inside the event.

Steve and I had been blessed by the party before so we knew what was in store, and were really looking forward to the reactions from our company of Toybox virgins to the visual extravaganza that awaited. Seeing it through their eyes was akin to seeing your first fiery sunset and being shocked by it’s awesome beauty, and we were so glad we could share this event with our loved ones.

We entered the party past what would later become the outdoor chill/smoking arena where you could also grab a grilled sausage if eating became an absolute necessity. Strangely, the rather unappetizing food was directly next to the Tumble Bug ride patrons were encouraged in the FAQs to avoid riding if uncertain about retaining the contents of their stomaches. I hope many senseless boys didn’t fall pray to the combo. Thank God sizable frozen fruit bars were distributed at key moments during the party, quite seamlessly I might add, which was enough to calm our bellies until after the night was through.

The first room was a small dance area that would be the slightly slower-tempo escape from the fury of the main hall. It could hold a couple hundred at best, but was more of a pass through for smokers with a couple of “Toylet” options. It was also where a large barrel of chilled water remained filled and available on the bar for parched partiers to top up for free thanks to the Code of Practice for Dance Parties passed in 1997 that made providing chill rooms and free water requirements for getting their license. Awesome thinking, and so needed here in the states (not that many promoters making bank of each pricy, small bottle would agree). Even the purchased bottles of water at Toybox were twice the size of the meager offerings the night before for the same $4 price. Just the first of so many ways Toybox sets itself apart when it comes to looking after it’s guests.

We gathered our wits and stormed the doors to the main hall at half past noon, joining a few other early bodies there as well to stake out their turf and enjoy the building momentum and energy. I love getting to an event like this early. You can stretch your wings to a few dreamy early tracks, scope out the nooks and crannies, and attempt to count the lasers that would soon be scorching the room overhead. Although the early tracks were a soft start to the meat of the event, after a few measures from opening DJ Matt Bachl it was clear the music was already far superior to anything heard the night before. We were home and beyond excited for the ecstatic afternoon to come.

Our other friends began filtering in and most were accounted for by about 2 PM. We staked out a spot near stage right where our troop of furry, smelly bears could be our jubilant selves and scare away those weary of the arousing musk we’d built up from the night before. Although there were other hirsute guests, ours was a seasoned and aggressive bunch who had a love of dancing and the smell to prove it.

The music had been teetering on full-throttle for a while and the crowd was ready for anything when chrysalis exploded. The already gorgeous decor of spinning, mirrored columns and movable rigging draped with delicate sheer panels was set ablaze to a rampant version of “Sunshine on a Cloudy Day” by sixteen, count them – 16 – perfectly spaced, full-spectrum lasers. An emotional cheer overtook the music as we were greeted the beloved production of lighting genius you expect from Toybox. The newbies amongst us stared in amazement as the well-crafted and epic laser show began rolling over our heads. The music was already driving and delicious, the crowd eager, and the party a Gold-winning shot past Mardi Gras, but the sometimes star-bursts/sometimes aurora borealis was the overwhelming addition that caused our friend Mike to express his joy in tears over the next couple of hours. That and the occasional “WOW” spelled by three fingers forming W’s on each side of his open mouth that was gasping for reality that wouldn’t return many hours from then.

For the rest of the afternoon it was difficult to pull away for a smoke, drink, or bathroom break, but after a while we reminded ourselves that the music and lights would still be as fabulous when we returned and Mike would still be barely able to dance through his emotional epiphany that Toybox had bested the many epic events he had attended and helped produce over the years.

Leaving the floor and passing throughout the club was easy despite the sold-out crowd. However, each time we returned to our friends the crowd had encroached further, till some of us were battling elbows and rude neighbors in our increasingly crowded and inconsiderate neighborhood. Being beaten by boney boys and girls storming through or muscling into our space was the only downer of the night, and although it could in no way tarnish the party that was stellar in every other way, it took effort to navigate the negativity.

Just off the rear of the main dance floor was another busy bar, followed by the play room. As if the rest of the event wasn’t full of hi-jinx and nonsense, the rear chill room was furnished with kid’s furniture, stacks of oversized Logos, stuffed animals, and array of toys that would spoil a preschool. A silly adjunct to the serious dancing taking place a few feet away.

Back in the Big Top Arena there were a few areal performers through the night and a series of silly trinkets magically dispersed along the way to toy with with our minds and fill our pockets with mementos. But the real show was the driving, progressive, sometime camp (think “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” from Sound of Music at 142 bpm or more) soundtrack and cosmic, visual battle that took center stage ’til the encore was played by the second DJ, Steven Hales, just past 8 PM. Some of us joked that we wished it we were back at 3 PM again so we could revel longer in what I humbly feel is the best dance party on Earth, but my body would soon snap me out of that fantasy as sore legs, back and feet began to show themselves on the horizon.

Sadly, we couldn’t make the first wave of busses that would return us to Taylor Square, so rather than queuing with hundreds of others, we hopped the train, complimentary Toybox Spring Water bottles in hand, and deposited our friends along the way to some much deserved sleep that eventually overtook the lasers shooting beneath our eyelids. Cuddled next to my partner in the last dark of the day, we remembered the oath we and our friends took somewhere amidst the glorious madness, that we “pledge our allegiance to Toybox” and without hesitation look forward to the next epic installment.

But when it comes to Toybox, one thing is true – the party is so special because every piece is designed to be a perfect companion to the others. Their unparalleled lasers would be poorly paired with anything other than the unrelenting progressive sound they groom from their DJs, the trance-like journey is not the norm at most US or European events, trippy trinkets would be frowned upon at a leather event, and the playroom escape would be lost at a party laden with tribal tracks and attendees who take themselves too seriously. Toybox is a warm and exciting 8-hour dream that is greater than it’s symbiotic parts; expertly conceived and executed to the last detail with love. Endless thanks and accolades to Duncan and his massive team of playful producers and volunteers who continue to create a magical dance experience others should note and admire.

Tags: Toy Box