Sounds of Om Featuring Atomic Mike, Kaskade, and Colette

Ninety minutes into the LA installment of the Sounds of Om tour, there is exactly one person dancing in front of the main room’s DJ Atomic Mike. It’s a girl — we’ll call her Sandra, for the sake of conversation. Sandra is completely lost in the music, her eyes closed and her body completely bathed in colored lights. A few minutes later, a limber Indian male, with moves that mirror the “popping” breakdance style from the early ’80s, joins her, finally bringing a plurality to the dance floor. This sight encourages other reluctant individuals to bodyrock along with them. And then, finally, the night begins. Sort of. Despite the frequency of quality house tracks and the relative density of the bodies on the dance floor, this Sounds of Om stop, or its musical talent DJs Kaskade and Colette, didn’t generate much palpable enthusiasm. Chalk it up to a fatigued, midweek crowd that probably spent the earlier day at work and/or was headed back to the office later in the morning. Or perhaps it was just a night of music that rarely felt transcendent. As that Randy guy from “American Idol” might opine, it was just a’ight for us. It wasn’t from a lack of effort. Beforehand, the promoter, Puresounds.org, bombarded L.A.-area clubbers with countless flyers and e-mails about the gig. It also chose one of Hollywood’s better nightspots to host the event; while Ivar isn’t an Avalon or Circus, the loft-like locale sports an intimacy few premium L.A. clubs can boast. And the DJ roster was hardly elementary or uninspired. Colette, a local favorite, sung over some of the tracks in her set, hitting high notes one moment, then manipulating the mixer and scratching tunes the next. Kaskade drew the audience in with tunes that were typically — and often simultaneously — melodic, warm, and rhythmically inviting. And Atomic Mike, the main room opener and a friend of many of the revelers, offered up stimulating funky house that had dancers crowding the DJ booth, once there were enough of them to crowd. But even when the DJs spun their most popular productions the attendees rarely roared in approval, even though most of them were moving along with and attentive to the song selections. Only when the music approached a certain level of aural ecstasy or metrical seduction did the crowd react as if there was a honest-to-goodness party going on. After Atomic Mike warmed up the building’s dance floor constituency, Kaskade took over on the decks, instantly switching tone. Kaskade brought something smoother and more melodic. The reaction was noticeably animated, and Kaskade’s brand of strummy, balmy, Ibiza house kept most of the witnesses in the room. On occasion, Kaskade infused his set with stirring tracks that seemed to shut out everything else in the periphery. Interestingly enough, those moments weren’t usually when he spun his own productions An hour later, Colette took over and, as Kaskade, brought a distinctive shift in sound, this time bridging the west coast house sound with tribal undercurrents. Colette was greeted with hearty cheers, especially once she began singing over the songs. Some of the tracks were new productions of her own — fitting, as she’s set to release an artist album this spring on Om. Some were more familiar, such as her 2002 favorite, “Feeling Hypnotized”, and others drew their inspiration from the radio, as she crooned Robert Palmer’s “I Didn’t Mean To Turn You On” over one song, followed by a recording that sampled Culture Club’s “Miss You Blind”. At this point, there was a half-hour left in the proceedings and not only was the crowd thinning, but remaining gig-goers were starting to yawn and lean against the wall. For some serious second wind, the beats needed to be driving, and the melodies required a freshness that you can’t get with the ’80s flashbacks. Kaskade returned to the turntables and upped the tempo, dropping a remix of last year’s hit, “Steppin’ Out”. He followed that with another of his originals, “It’s You, It’s Me”. Yet even this double whammy couldn’t wholly revive those still milling about. Colette assumed the headphones once again to close it out, ending on a house track sampling the Temptations’ “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”. Even the male bathroom attendant came out to groove to this one. As the DJ let the song fade out and asked everyone to drive home safely, she was given a final yell of approval. At least this tepid happening went out on a euphoric note. Too bad no one was left to hear it.