Amnesia's 2024 opening party encapsulated the Ibiza spirit.. or at least the latest rendition of it

As the sun begins to beam through Amnesia’s transparent ceiling, illuminating the thousands of ravers currently packed onto the dancefloor of The Terrace, it’s difficult not to get contemplative. Once open-air, the storied Ibiza nightclub installed this roof in the 1990s to continue its opening night tradition of having crowds dance beneath the sunrise; a White Isle ritual that has held strong since Amnesia first welcomed crowds in 1976 until now.

A lot has changed since its fabled opening, with the growth of party tourism no doubt proving a destructive force for culture on parts of the island. Despite undergoing vast cultural shifts since the island’s 90s dance music boom and subsequent growth of party tourism, Ibiza hasn’t quite reached the point of other past strongholds of the European "hippy" such as Goa, or Tulum. Places where the free spiritism and hedonism which originally defined such oases has completely given way to over-priced gimmicks; simulacrums of a now non-existent culture, tempting hordes of middle-class Westerners to their shores for their far more expensive and watered-down alternatives.

Amnesia, self-described as “a timeless sanctuary where the soul of Ibiza resides” and the alleged home of the "authentic Ibiza experience", is regularly lauded as one of the Island’s favourite nightclubs despite the continued openings of rival super-clubs intended to knock it off its perch. Signalling the start of summer, Amnesia’s opening party remains the stuff of legends in Ibiza, described by music director Neil Edwards as “more than just a party - it's a soulful reunion,” with even the most seasoned veterans finding room in their calendar for the night widely-regarded as the beginning of the Ibiza season.

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This idea of an “authentic Ibiza experience” is something new to me. I (only somewhat) wrongly assumed that each club consisted of some small variation on a stock mix of loud techno or house music, drug-fuelled Brits, over-stimulating lights and hedonistic all-nighters. Despite my preconceptions, and all the wild stories I’ve heard over the years about "Beefa", accounts from the locals of various nights on the island range from the fantastical to the downright degrading. Still, the consensus seems to be that I’m heading straight into the deep end, skipping the poor imitations and heading directly to Ibiza’s most storied party.

Seeing more of Ibiza, I begin to understand the sacredness attached to its vibe and history. As a first-time visitor to the Balearic Island, I’m struck by the beauty of it all. Rolling green hills stretch as far as the eye can see, with views of flawless blue skies reflecting perfectly in the crystal clear water, interrupted only by the silhouettes of towering palm trees. It does elicit feelings of an untouched sanctuary, and I start to feel a semblance of nostalgia for the "original Ibiza" that I never knew.

Following a stunning sunset in true Ibiza fashion, I arrive at Amnesia, with a luminous red sign confirming my destination. I make my way up a long ramp, hemmed in by bright green leaf-covered walls and the most extensive collection of floral shirts I’ve ever seen. It feels like approaching a festival, with the same kind of nervous hush descending over the crowd as we approach the gates. As a few unlucky ones get turned away despite their protests, I make it inside and weave through the jam-packed smoking area, which is filled to the absolute brim with sunburnt lads in sunglasses, as well as a significant proportion of smiling Spaniards, not to mention a fair few older heads, who seem to share the nostalgia I’ve baselessly adopted.

Finally entering the cavernous Terrace, my first impressions struggle to comprehend the pure size of it all. Thousands of pale bodies shift and bounce as far and as high as the eye can see, swaying in tech-house-induced stupor. In the middle of it all are four dancers, synchronised flashes of white, gold, green and blue, and seemingly the only people in the room to have discovered the rhythmic capabilities of hips and shoulders. Adorned in sparkly sequin bodysuits which reflect neon as they contort their bodies, they direct the hordes of 2-steppers below them like composers at the orchestra.

Green Velvet sets the tone for the evening, introducing the audience to a groovy rendition of the sub-heavy kicks that become hypnotically familiar as the night wears on. Next door there is no such gradual introduction, with resident Marco Faraone electing for heavier and more powerful techno rhythms, spurring punters to quickly forget their sense of self within the Main Room’s darker and more ominous setting. He describes the feeling of playing Amnesia’s opening as “meaning everything to him”, a place where, “musical expression comes first, before any compromise”. As the night goes on and the tempo continues to rise, a certain anarchic energy begins to fill the room, powered by the liberating sense of anonymity felt within the club’s cavernous interior.

This feeling is nothing new, and has been part of Amnesia’s vision from its inception. Formed in 1976 during the midst of Ibiza’s cultural revolution, Amnesia was created by Madrid-born philosopher Antonio Escohotado, who envisioned a space steeped in Ibiza’s 1970s hippy culture of escapism and hedonism and labelled it accordingly as El taller del olvido (The Workshop of Forgetfulness). Originally playing disco, it was a space where people were meant to “forget their problems and indulge in an unknown world far away from ordinary routine.” Further playing on this concept, co-founder Manolo Sáenz de Heredia suggested renaming the club Amnesia.

Although things have since changed dramatically, a certain degree of hedonism is certainly required in a modern day Amnesia, at least to justify the drink prices to oneself, which alongside the heavy-handed bouncer presence don’t quite illicit feelings of flower power and bohemianism. That being said, the punters don’t seem to mind in the slightest, where their floral shirts are now wrapped around sweaty shoulders as the night finds its groove back in The Terrace, with two hours of Mar-T and CAAL ramping up the energy in the room to a restless and perpetual state of motion, albeit not quite with the same fury of Nina Kraviz next door.

At 5:AM, Ibiza stalwart Dennis Cruz takes to the booth with a set reminding listeners of the club’s eclectic roots, drawing for groovy and disco imbued tech-house sonics, as the first tendrils of light begin to permeate the pressurised dancefloor. Although the experience thus far has done little to alter my preconceptions about Ibiza, the subtle change in music, combined with the first hints of dawn sunshine, has a remarkable effect on the sea of ravers down below, in what appears to be a defining moment for the occasion and for Amnesia’s opening as a whole.

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It’s a clear turning point of the night, with the dark and powerful techno monotony beginning to be broken, as the collective trance of the last few hours begins to elevate towards scarcely concealed euphoria. Energy-saving bops give way to flailing arms, sloppy kisses and wide-eyed appreciation, as the coming of daylight seems to bring about a collective awakening, the kind of dawn chorus observed every day in the natural world.

But this is no everyday occurrence, and is about as far from the natural world as you could get. This is Amnesia's opening party, happening once a year, every year, and retold through superlatives, wild anecdotes and expressive hand gestures every other day of the year. Speaking to one punter about why he returns annually, he describes the moment on the terrace as “the feeling of being alive.” Many have waited months to feel that feeling in their chest, their soul, a feeling that could be easily mistaken for the rumble of the bass or the slight discomfort of that last drink, but is neither. It’s the pursuit of that feeling which is why people go clubbing really, whether there to see a specific DJ, to dance, to socialise with old friends or perhaps to meet someone new … it ultimately boils down to that urge to stimulate one’s senses to the maximum in every sense, forgetting the problems of the outside world and truly feeling alive.

Standing on Amnesia’s Terrace as dawn finally breaks and Honey Dijon takes to the stage, every single sense is pushed to the max, a mixing desk with sliders on full. The lasers follow impossible geometries, cutting the now light air with their neon trails, while the pounding music continues to punctuate the steps of the dancers below. As one drop blends towards the next, there is a gap in the night’s 4/4 heartbeat, initiating a rare moment of calm. A calm that perhaps allows a momentary reflection on the last year, or a curious thought about how human evolution got to this. Maybe even a throwaway worry about a forthcoming commitment. And then just as quickly as the moment begins, it ends, and the kick drops with devastating force. All problems are forgotten about until a later date. This is Amnesia.

For information on Amnesia Ibiza's 2024 season head to amnesia.es

Jamaal Johnson is Mixmag's Digital Intern, follow him on Instagram