An army of black clouds amassed above Camp Bisco X around 6:45 p.m. on Friday, Day II. “Quick, we have to run back to the car and get hoodies before Shpongle!”. I shout to my Attorney through the gathering wind. Everyone is running towards their camp sites, and those who don’t bother to look up or don’t care are running in all directions to get to other shows.

All photos by Nick Minieri, for some more sick shots, visit beantownboogiedown.com. It’s approximately 4 a.m. when Sydney and I get back from IDentity Fest in Mansfield and fall onto her couches. “What … you mean how the buildups and booming bass lines are still echoing over and over in your head even though the room is dead silent?”.

When Moby takes the stage for his live set on the first day of Electric Zoo, words are unnecessary. His symphony of sound speaks to the masses, hits deep, connects us all, and makes us move. Photo by Kaitlyn Rich. I’m standing on the highest step of the bleachers in the VIP section, looking out over Electric Zoo, crunched between the two meccas of Manhattan and Queens.

RJD2 says at the Dise on the last night of Together 2012 (after taking off his Commissioner Crotchbuttons outfit: a welder’s mask and jumpsuit that he wore while playing the MPC hanging from his belt). I watch him as he pauses for a second to look out onto the crowd, struck by the magic of his thoughtful expression in the silence, his three turntables not moving for the first time since he started playing.

The air around us is heavy with clouds of beige dust that kicks up with our shoes shuffling to the sound of kick drums, shouts, and mysterious explosions in the distance. The 200 acres of fields at the Indian Lookout Club stretch before us, to the right my eyes fall on a new ferris wheel, the only peak rising above the heavy dust.

UK producer Ott captures the insanity of the Big Up festival this past weekend. Welcome to Sunnyview Farm: 1,500 acres of green, rolling hills and winding dirt paths through towering pines and elms, abandoned barns and stables. Once, long ago, horses pranced through the peaceful forest and galloped through the meadows.

Needless to say, things get a little crazy in Part II of the Reporting Live series from Together 2012. Wheezie is literally destroying the place. Leaning back, gangster-style behind his setup, his fingers are straight whipping back from vinyl, shoulders bumpin’. Track after track of the purest dope.

My friends are all passed out hard in a row inside our tent on Friday morning. Apparently the five of us spooned for warmth all night. That’s so goddamn cute. I jump outside into the morning hilltop breeze. The ground in front of our tent is littered with half-empty water bottles, Cliff Bar wrappers and burnt out glowsticks and there are already 300 girls in line for the showers just beyond the hill we’re camped on, looking down at the Silent Disco stage beneath the blazing sun.

The last week of May this year, the Dig came out with an article called GET INTO IT, subtitle: Summer festivals just get bigger and bigger. But I didnt know this when I walked into the Dig office for the first time, which weirdly was the same week said article came out. This summer proved how true that subtitle is.

After the last week, I’m emotionally and physically spent, exhausted from late nights following the news and Twitter—and Sorella’s is a warm, comforting, and bright escape from the headlines, like a big bear hug.

Chances are, you can spot the Cat Hat in Central on any given night doing a “five drink minimum.” I chose my favorite places for the marathon: where Mass Ave. is filled with music. Behind these doors are some of the best bartenders this city has to offer. And tonight, I’m writing about them and for them. Yes, for work. Nobody seems surprised that I’m on assignment, except maybe Maxxi Soundystem, a producer from Brighton, UK playing at Make It New—