REVIEW: We’ve Always Been The Ones Holding The Bass: Seth David in Albany
6/6 @ Ophelia’s, Albany
“We didn’t need visuals or lasers. We had the beat. We had each other. We had a room full of people ready to give in completely and a lineup of artists who knew exactly how to take us there.”
There were no LED screens. No strobes. No smoke cannons. And not a single second of stillness.
Friday night at Ophelia’s didn’t need any of the extras—the music and the people were more than enough. From the moment the first set started, the crowd was in it, dancing like their bodies had been waiting all week to let go.
Rome Thrasher, Double Take, Gimmie Gimmie, and Kellen Hagen each took their shot pushing the envelope just a little further with every handoff. You could hear it shift—from house to riddim to drum & bass to techno to dubstep so heavy it rattled your jaw. Each act played like they had something to prove and goddamn did they prove it.
The ceilings at Ophelia’s are covered in big, dreamy fabric tapestries that sway when the bass gets deep enough, which it did constantly. People showed up in full rave fits: mesh, chains, body glitter, goggles, pashminas, clack fans… the works. Everyone was dancing. It wasn’t one of those shows where half the crowd’s too cool to move; this was a floor full of sweaty, euphoric bodies giving in to every drop like it was church.
And then there was Seth David.
By the time he took the stage the energy was already feral, but somehow he brought it out even more. It felt like he was hardwired into the room, like he could hear what we were craving before we even knew ourselves. No buildup, no warning, just heat. He came in swinging and didn’t let up once. It was instinctual, sharp, locked in. Every track, every switch-up, every bassline, fully intentional. The kind of set that leaves no room for breath, no desire to look away.
And for me, a Black person in a space that often forgets where this music came from, seeing Seth up there fucking mattered. It meant everything. Dubstep’s roots are in Blackness. So are house and techno. This entire genre was born out of Black and Caribbean communities, out of sound systems, out of protest, out of joy. That’s not a footnote; that’s the origin story. But the deeper EDM gets pulled into the mainstream, the more that truth gets stripped away.
People love to joke about “brostep,” love to pretend raves aren’t for people like us. But let me be clear: they are. They always have been. And you have every right to show up, take up space, and be just as loud, just as sweaty, just as free as anyone else there. Seth didn’t have to say that out loud. He embodied it.
Ophelia’s is a strange little world; part dive bar, part DIY bass bunker. You can grab wings and a drink from Slidin Dirty, then climb a few steps and get smacked in the face with some of the most gnarly, disorienting, perfect sounds you’ve ever heard. Step outside and it’s dead quiet, like you imagined the whole thing. But inside? Inside, it’s alive.
We didn’t need visuals or lasers. We had the beat. We had each other. We had a room full of people ready to give in completely and a lineup of artists who knew exactly how to take us there.
Seth David didn’t just throw down, he cracked something open. He reminded us what this music is. And he reminded me that we were never guests here.
We’ve always been the ones holding the bass.