Was this divine, or simply Arca's world as we glimpsed it?
A divine visitation descended upon Burgess Park and was left overlooked. Like a rogue deity appearing in front of an audience, shedding the firmament's austerity and shaking the earth in a blinding display of sheer power, people turned to leave to catch the end of a Mall Grab set. Half a congregation swapped a theophany for a boogie, forsaking revelation for rhythm. For the first time, Maiden Voyage crossed the Thames, bringing its vibrant, queer-centred festival to south London, with Arca headlining a lineup of less experimental soundscapes.
In fairness to the infidels, these distracted heretics, were essentially invited to leave by Arca who chose to start her set with fifteen to thirty minutes of her most spectral electronic odes, a Venus descending, draped in pensive, operatic vocals which ripped like sonic gossamer, designed to filter out the nonbelievers, a sanctified culling. But to me, it was a miracle: defying all suppositions and rules, and a true test of faith for her most loyal apostles. It demonstrated her ability to make anything malleable. The lost half drifted, but those who stayed saw her bend everything to her will, a potent reality-rift of warping vocals and tectonic bass, daring the crowd to stay. Those who did were anointed. A headliner for a queer dance music festival—with an extensive arsenal of big beats—aiming to shake minds, not booties. At least not for the first half; the blessing finally came drowned in mosh and madness.
She subverted further: a sex swing at stage right where she chained herself, groin to crowd. The overt sexuality and BDSM-laden aesthetic shredded norms, transforming the event at her whim. Gig, burlesque, or iconoclasm? Its art dissected and reassembled into a nonpareil mutant hybrid. Unbelievably original and yet beating to the same pulse as the crowd; queerness and gender non-conformity is present, more so than ever before, and Arca is a figurehead, grounding those gathered like cypress roots in electronic soil, feeding on a chorus of synth and ferocity. Like a dark angel, she beckons with open arms and barbed edge, a reverent irreverence.
While she is sanctified, musicians compared to God do not fare well (picture Jarvis Cocker mooning MJ at the Brits). Divine yes, but God? Arca has displayed her omnipresence: Ye, FKA Twigs, Björk, Rosalia, Lil Uzi Vert, Ryuchi Sakamoto, Shygirl, SOPHIE, Playboi Carti (allegedly)—she has possessed them all. Beyoncé videos, Mugler and Gautier Runways, Vogue—she has appeared in all. Her world tour this year has spread the gospel across three different continents. Her omnipotence can be felt by anyone who bears witness to her—it's what forced the mob to flee to Mall Grab, it was in the rumbling bass that shook the ground (even insurance brokers agree an earthquake is an 'act of God'), it was in each intricate whisper of electric noise that flooded the high-end. Was this divine, or simply Arca's world as we glimpsed it? The discomfort of this argument, of course, lies in God's reputed benevolence. Arca has enlightened us all and demonstrated the freedom of expression we can have in our lives, our identity and our creative expression. She is truly a gift to us; kind, however, is a stretch. I lost count of how many times she called us bitches and I discerned "puta" more than once during the Spanish section of her sermon. I was enraptured by the sonic assault on my ears but it was a fist without a kiss—there was no mercy. Perhaps she is more devil than deity, or at the very least, Old Testament.
During her apparitions, one is less Mohammed on Mount Hira and more Prior in Angels in America, the sudden presence of the divine prompting orgasm and terror in equal measure. Arca utilised her strength to deliver her message: 'Do what thou wilt'. An occult phrase adopted by Alistair Crowley and popularised (in part) by the Beats, it is wholly fitting of Arca's ethos. Crowley and his subscribers believed that, with practice, one can find their 'true will' and in doing so gain a guardian angel. Perhaps Arca is such a spirit, a seraphim leading by example. The world in her head is now waking, her visions have become reality, and with the practice of true will and discipline, the same could be said for us. Go forth, she seems to say, and wield your own fire. Go in peace, and serve yourself in the name of Arca. Amen.
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