At Pacha New York, an Infamous Night Club Is Reborn

By the time Rampa arrived on the decks, a bit before 1 a.m., the crowd was congealing into a congenial blur: serious dancers with their eyes closed, celebratory guys in basketball jerseys, swaying couples, groups of friends interested more in one another than in the guy in the booth. He had brought with him Prospa, an English duo known for a series of club hits that evoke the hedonistic spirit of nineties house music. Everyone knew that Rampa would eventually play “Say What,” a 2024 hit he helped produce, which has a joyful bass line and a refrain that is equally indecipherable to dancers across the world, since it’s in a made-up language. People raised their hands and sang along, but only for a few minutes. Rampa told me that he tries to make sure his d.j. sets don’t devolve into concerts; he wants people to feel as if they’re at a party, not a performance.

This is not always easy to do, especially for anyone who appears, as Rampa often does, on lists of the world’s most popular d.j.s. He told me that he had fond memories of his time in Berlin’s underground scene, playing gigs in cramped venues that were often at risk of being shut down. “There were no permissions and licenses, so it was very pure and honest,” he said. He knows, though, that the outlaw approach tends to lose its charm as the crowds grow and the likelihood of disaster increases. On the dance floor, as elsewhere, people tend to want to feel both free and safe; in that sense, every night club is a compromise, and part of the job of a d.j. is to help people forget that. At a scrappier venue, there might be someone at the door, deciding who will or won’t contribute to a great night. But at a big corporate club like Pacha anyone with money can buy a ticket. In that sense, at least, Pacha is more inclusive than some of its smaller competitors. Prices for shows this summer range from forty-five dollars, for general admission, to hundreds or thousands of dollars.