Las Vegas stands as the ultimate American illusion, a mirage amidst the desert, created from borrowed time and poor choices. Dreamers continue to arrive, cigarettes tilted downward, eyes glazed, clutching fistfuls of loose plastic chips. Cash transforms into chips, and in an instant, it no longer feels like real money. The casino atmosphere is a manufactured chill, contrasting the sweat still clinging to skin from the oppressive heat outside. The carpets are thick and cushioned, designed to slow one’s pace. They absorb remnants: extinguished cigarettes, spilled drinks, and exhausted desperation. A man in a crumpled linen suit tosses fifteen hundred onto the table as if it were nothing, and perhaps it is. The dealer remains unfazed. The chips disappear. The cards are reshuffled. Another round. Another wager. Another chance to reclaim it all. Vegas dissociates consequence from action, and the man lingers, anticipating the next hand, the next turn, the next borrowed moment within the illusion.
Clearly, Vegas isn’t made for daylight. In the nighttime, the fantasy intensifies. The neon and LED lights blur the harsh realities, making it simpler to appreciate that everything is merely a disguise, a facade, a dream. Restaurants resembling carousels, a placid Venetian canal with stagnant water, and artificial bird sounds emanating from concealed speakers in the foliage. How is it that the trees appear so lush and diverse in the heart of the desert? Who decided the Las Vegas skyline required a smiley face the size of a skyscraper? And no, it’s not just a mirage. It’s actually the reason for our presence here.
“This is the largest cinema in the world… This is the perfect place to narrate a story.” That’s how Solomun, the Bosnian-German techno icon (and Ibiza mogul), perceives The Sphere, a $2.3 billion, 18-acre structure pulsating against the Vegas skyline. We are present to witness Solomun perform as the opener for Anyma at a venue that has hosted the likes of U2, Phish, and Dead & Company, showcasing a specially curated performance embodying his vision of the "divine" experience of music.
Venturing beyond the DJ booth, he meticulously designed every aspect of the show from beginning to end, including the music and visuals. “For me, it’s always about the music first, dancing first, and then everything else,” he explains to CLASH during our meeting in a hotel room 30 stories above the shimmering Vegas strip, with The Sphere’s emoji-like facade smiling at us through the window. “Even in this place, I wanted to concentrate solely on music and dancing.”
Solomun’s music operates on grand strokes that lie at a crossroads; his deep house embodies something more cinematic and deliberate, prioritizing hypnosis over a fleeting high. He immerses himself in crafting sensory realms within the club environment, building and dismantling them in real time into something both enchanting and exhilarating. “I love to play. It brings me so much joy. And you can’t do it everywhere,” he admits sincerely. “Certain venues allow you to take your time, tell a story, and guide people along.”
In The Sphere, where everything feels monumental and theatrical, his music finds its place. “The Sphere is insane,” Solomun remarks. “The rendering time, the data, the technology required is probably the most complex ever. I spent four weeks brainstorming what I could create, and I was incredibly stressed. I desired to produce something exciting. Something meaningful.”
The set was robust – deep, resonating, and impeccably timed – at times bordering on the transcendent. Solomun knows how to elongate a moment, orchestrating the crowd to move as a unified whole. But The Sphere transcends that experience entirely. It is an emerging art form, reminiscent of witnessing the Lumière brothers’ train arriving at the station, where everyone gasps in wonder, not yet questioning its potential. The show begins in a forest that dissolves into itself, or perhaps creates itself – it’s unclear. The text on the screen poses the question: What does everyone instinctively do when wandering alone through a dark forest? They start to whistle or sing – and immediately, feelings of loneliness and fear diminish. As long as the music plays, there is no need for fear.
This notion resonates deeply with Solomun, a man who was raised in Bosnia before relocating to Germany, brought up by working-class Catholic parents who instilled in him the significance of ritual, faith, and something greater than himself. He has previously discussed the almost spiritual significance of music in his life, not in the self-centered manner of a superstar DJ, but as something ancient and fundamental.
“This is ultimately the most sacred space: the dance floor,” Solomun expresses. Behind the decks, illuminated by a constantly changing cathedral of light, he oversees a
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Las Vegas is the ultimate American illusion, a desert mirage constructed on fleeting moments and poor choices. Dreamers continue to arrive, cigarettes