I arrived at Breakaway Arizona with no expectations. My flight landed at 3pm, and I went straight from the airport to the venue to catch Daniel Allan’s 4:40pm set—he was the only name on that day’s line up that I really wanted to see. After a quick pit stop at the gas station to change and grab a protein bar, I found myself at Breakaway’s main stage, dancing in the crowd as I waited for my friend to find me. I figured it would be a chill day: we would explore, hear some new music, and then get down to The Chainsmokers at the end of the night. I didn’t expect to get any writing ideas, let alone have a peak experience. As usual, the universe surprised me.

My friend—let’s call her K—is a certified rave baby™. She came with me for a single day of Goldrush 2023 and cried during Louis the Child because the lights and the music were so beautiful. Despite that emotional experience, she wasn’t quite hooked. I was lucky that The Chainsmokers were playing at Breakaway—it was the perfect bait to reel her in.

After Daniel Allan’s genre-bending set (his two most-loved songs are the stutter house-infused “I Just Need” and his bass flip of “Stephanie”), K and I caught up over some food. She gestured to my pashmina, “I think I want to get one of those!” I had spotted a Loose Lucy’s earlier, so we browsed pashminas until she found the perfect one: a deep gray-blue with a silver sheen and dark blue pom-pom tassels.

The pashmina purchase turned out to be prescient; the wind picked up and gray clouds began to roll in as we made our way to the smaller stage. We danced to Frank Walker’s euphoric progressive house flips of familiar tunes, the perfect mix to make K feel happy and at ease—sing-alongs tend to create a sense of familiarity. It started to sprinkle, and she pointed at the sky, asking if we could go dance in the rain. I happily obliged. I hadn’t bothered to even check the weather, as Phoenix in the spring is typically sunny and 75. K hadn’t checked either, assuming the same thing. We didn’t know then, but this oversight would rock our world in just a few short hours.

We hopped on over to VIP to use the restroom (thank you, Breakaway, for my first media pass!). As I emerged from the bathroom trailer, I heard something unexpected: dubstep overlaid with a saxophone [Griz is that you?!?!]. I had no idea who was playing as I pulled K over to the main stage, following my ears. The crowd was dancing, so we joined in, twirling around and letting loose to remixes of popular songs—more sing-alongs that kept the energy high. While Frank Walker’s set had focused on progressive house remixes, these remixes spanned all subgenres of dance music. It felt like a college party playlist, but optimized to get people dancing—and it was definitely working.

Then, I saw someone walk across the stage carrying a flag. “Wait… we’re at TWO FRIENDS?!?” I exclaimed, an edge of horror in my voice. Two Friends aren’t exactly well-regarded in my corner of the dance music community: one person I was raving with refused to see them at Moonrise in 2022 because he couldn’t “be seen at Two Friends.” I realized that I unconsciously had become a bit of a snob as well. It was a good reminder that dance music is supposed to be fun, and that I shouldn’t let my perceptions, shaped by the culture and the online discourse, prevent me from enjoying “mainstream” artists.

In defense of Two Friends, it actually takes a lot of skill to make a “basic” remix of a popular song—to identify its core and make changes that enhance it, rather than molding it to fit “your sound.” As far as I can tell, Two Friends doesn’t have a distinct sound; at Breakaway, they traversed across many genres of dance music, with each remix tailored to honor its originator. For example, their newly-released “Sweet Caroline” remix keeps the vocals we all know and love front and center while backing them with a four-on-the-floor house beat and a horn-centered finale. Another iconic example is their melodic bass remix of “Mr. Brightside,” which takes the angst of the original and transmutes it into an Illenium-style sad boi anthem. It seems their goal is simple: get people singing and dancing, even if it means being super corny.

The Chainsmokers also played remixes across the spectrum of dance music subgenres, but they set themselves apart from Two Friends in one crucial way: they managed to create a sense of awe, a motif that masterful DJs and producers return to again and again. Awe helps us heal, helps us connect, and helps us transcend. This ability seems to be a requirement for headliners. They can’t just throw a good party: they have to make us feel something. They must set the stage for a peak experience.

And The Chainsmokers had some help—Alex Pall and Drew Taggart were either eyeing the clouds or benefiting from the universe’s divine timing when they queued up “Closer” just as the rain began to pour. K and I pulled the pashminas from our heads, letting the rain coat us as we screamed the familiar lyrics: “we ain’t never getting older.” The crowd began to thin as people ran for cover, and we found ourselves with more room to dance as The Chainsmokers transitioned from “Closer” to a remix of Florence & The Machine’s “Dog Days Are Over.”1

I started to cry, overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment—the perfectly timed rain, the sudden availability of space, the lifelong friend dancing beside me—it was all too much, in the best possible way. I wasn’t crying because I was cold and wet; I was crying because I was in awe of the moment, incredibly grateful to be alive, to have these experiences, and to be able to share them with people who matter deeply to me. I was crying because of the messages of these songs: the promise that the worst days are behind me, and that getting older isn’t something to fear, but something to embrace.

And all this thanks to The Chainsmokers, who I had previously written off as sell-out venture capitalists. It turns out that their commercial success wasn’t a fluke: they’re masters of the craft. They understand how to use dance music to engender awe—a key element needed to create personal transformation.

They also understand how to use dance music to connect us: They dropped a mash-up of Calvin Harris’s “Feel So Close” and John Summit’s “Shiver,” and the resulting euphoria had the crowd jumping up and down in unison like it was 2011 again. This mix gave a sense of nostalgia and familiarity to those who don’t regularly listen to EDM—Harris’s “Feel So Close” was number 42 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 2012 and was the top dance track of the year. Paired with the current dance music banger, “Shiver,” the remix bridged eras, blending two songs that share themes of connection and unity.

Artists like The Chainsmokers and Two Friends don’t deserve our derision—they deserve our respect! They are dance music missionaries, attracting normies and the dance-music-curious, drawing them in for a party and delivering a peak experience instead.

Raves and music festivals can be deeply transformative, and I want more people to be exposed to rave culture—to experience the healing, the community, and the love that I’ve found here. I want more people to dance like crazy in the rain, to exchange gifts with strangers, to feel the bass vibrate their chest. I want more people to dance-walk through the festival grounds like they’re on a mission. I want more people to experience love firsthand, in a way perfectly tailored for them.

So take your rave baby to a Breakaway festival. They might show up expecting a concert. But the universe has a funny way of playing with our expectations. As your rave baby sings along to reimagined yet familiar favorites, moving freely to the music, they might sense that something is different here. There’s an energy here that sets the festival apart from the club; they might sense the love and unity flowing from the speakers, washing over the crowd. Maybe they’ll heal, just a little. Maybe they’ll make an unexpected friend. Maybe they’ll think to themselves, “I should go to another one of these.” You never know. Maybe they’ll even grab a pashmina on their way out.

Mia Arends loves writing and dancing—and thinks both are cosmically important. Follow her on Instagram, Threads, or Reddit.

This voiceover features…