In a city where it sometimes feels like everyone’s already on the VIP list, there’s something magical about finding your inner star in a crowd full of strangers. That’s exactly what happened for me at Trench 01, Audrey Nuna’s electrifying DJ-curated event in celebration of her upcoming album. And with a roster like Brian Vidal, Hu Dat, Sean Vu, and Kal Banx, it was bound to be a night where you danced, not because you knew how (even though I do) but because you couldn’t help it.
Audrey Nuna, known for her genre-blending tracks and style, was turning her musical alchemy into an immersive experience, pulling together some of the most exciting DJ talents into one space. The energy was exciting, and as the night unfolded, I felt free to let go and let the warm lights shining on me absorb into me.
As I stepped into the dimly lit venue, I couldn’t help but feel that familiar flutter of social anxiety creeping in, the kind where it felt like everyone was watching. It was the kind of night where everyone moved effortlessly, where cliques formed and unformed like smoke. But I was determined to make anxiety weak under my sheer determination to choose to have fun overlooking and being “normal”.
Brian Vidal kicked off the night with a set that felt like it was designed to pull you out of your head with deep basses and rhythms that felt like a heartbeat of the room itself. I met one of the DJ’s friends early in the night, a random conversation outside Apt 200, but when the music hit, all the small talk faded.
By the time Hu Dat took over, the vibe shifted. The set was ethereal yet grounded, a mix of musical inspiration that made me realize something. I didn’t need to be part of any group to be part of this night. I danced, alone, in the crowd, feeling both untethered and entirely present. It was like dancing for the first time, free of expectation or inhibition, powered by the sonic landscapes she conjured.
Sean Vu’s set hit differently. His beats were the bridge between the pulse of the dance floor and the more intimate, reflective space that the night had become for me. The crowd was electric, but my mind was somewhere else. As Vu layered track upon track, weaving electronic, house, and even nostalgic hip-hop elements, I couldn’t help but think: this is what overcoming feels like. Dancing alone, under strobe lights that made the room blur in time, didn’t feel lonely. It felt triumphant.
Then came Kal Banx, a set that wasn’t just a finale but a closing ceremony. His selections were smooth yet complex, making the crowd feel musically tapped in. The music was the kind you didn’t just hear but felt in your bones. At this point, the whole room was moving as one, a collective energy where it didn’t matter whether you came with friends or danced by yourself. The music, the space, and the night held everyone equally.
Me alone, Apt 200 (2024)
Trench 01 was a reminder of how music can shift your inner world, turn a solo dance into a victory lap, and make even the most anxious of nights feel transformative.
