Some are strutting in skimpy disco shorts, bikini tops, rabbit ears and little else, blissfully ignoring announcements that caution against wearing outfits that are too revealing. So far, the scene has been pretty wholesome — in contrast with the fears that Electric Daisy would be a riotous bacchanal. Concertgoers are peacefully coexisting, so far, in a fantastical realm of color, sound and gesture.
The dance beats are frenzied and violent but the crowd is mellow and well behaved, excluding a few rowdy groups of tailgating fans playing beer pong.
State troopers are circling the site in pale blue uniforms that stand out amid a sea of shiny, furry fashions. The performers are all but invisible on stage, surrounded by towering video screens awash in psychedelic colors. People aren't looking at the stage. They're looking at each other, as hips swish on cue. Most songs build to a crescendo of skittering rhythms followed by a tiny pause. When the beat crashes back, it's the techno answer to a guitar solo.
Between the musical alchemists on stage and the tutu-clad marathon dancers in the crowd, this is not your father's rock concert.
With the rumbling bass and the shrieking voices, it sounds as if the world is about the split in two. The clothes get wilder while the sun sinks. Young women in sheer dresses and fluffy boots flutter in like post-apocalyptic disco queens, accompanied by men wearing lawn and leaf bags as improvised superhero capes.
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