Great party traditions don’t just happen; they’re made. Now in its fifth year, Genesis is most definitely one of the greats.  “Legendary” as the flyer would have it—and that’s no exaggeration.  What was perhaps, in its first year, a New Year’s Day party for Miami Beach locals has become a primary reason for boarding a Miami-bound New Year’s plane.  Get thee to the Beach! 

This year there were plenty of reasons for being on the sandbar for the New Year’s weekend—and at ten am, the line outside Cameo wrapped the corner and down 14th Street.  Boyz in shades and tees—on a beautiful Miami Beach morning.  Boyz from Melbourne and New York, DC and Chicago.  Boyz who hadn’t gone out the night before—because they wanted to save it for Genesis—and let it all out at Cameo.

There’s no better club on the Beach.  The things that other clubs seem to get wrong—such as security or traffic flow—it’s a perfected art at Cameo.  The staff gentle and accommodating, the sightlines exemplary, and the flow—EVERYTHING flows!  (As for coat check, and the inevitable snafus, who needs coat check on the beach??)

And so up the staircase to the mezzanine, for the meet and greet, and the loo, and then on through the balcony club, and out into the main room, where it was “Bang Bang” as we surrendered willingly to Cameo’s funhouse of mirrors—like being swaddled in magic. 

From the ceiling hung vestiges of the holiday season: white-lit pines and snowflakes—done in Miami silver and gold—and alongside us, a whooping Native American princess—and seated over there, radiating flawless beauty, was Chyna Girl.  Happy New Year!  The floor was packed.  Oh, the joy of a circumscribed dance floor—fencing us in, making us close, closer—creating HEAT!

And there at the helm, in the strategically placed booth just above the floor was Tracy, playing like she meant it.  This was her house, her party, her town—SHE OWNED IT!  “The way you walk, the way you talk.”  It was the first day of a new year, and already it was good: a very good year. 

From the crow’s nest of the club, we peered down at the beauty below.  This was the true spirit of the Beach— This was the party that moves people to the Beach—  Face it, it happens.  Take this job and shove it; I’m moving to the Beach. 

And right then, reading our collective mind, Tracy threw down “This Joy (Has Liberated Me)”—and more than even before, we were one—uncontrollable with JOY!  Miss Tracy Young sealed the deal there, tied up with a New Year’s bow.  She made the party hers—hers and ours—and thereafter Miss Tracy could do no wrong. 

From there, she shifted into an eerie “How Long?” blanketing us in music designed to haunt the New Year—and then “Are you ready to jump?  Yes, I’m ready to jump.”  Who wouldn’t follow her lead?  These were snippets of Madonna—but for this crowd, Tracy was our girl. 

Happy, happy, happy—this was the true communion between deejay and crowd.  And can we say lighting?  This is a club that gets lighting—and knows enough to hire not just a lighting guy but a lighting artist.  Lights by the incomparable, the legendary (there’s that word again), Ross Berger.  This man is exemplary in his profession.  And he knows this club; he knows the boards—and his sense of palette and timing (as well as fun) is flawless.  Watch him; watch what he does—and see what a difference good lighting makes.  Under Maestro Berger’s watch, Cameo became a winter wonderland, with intergalactic explosions of light. 

Meanwhile, there was Elaine Lancaster (channeling Alexis Krystle Carrington Colby) coming to pay obeisance to the magician in the booth.  “The Thought of You—the way you walk, the way you talk”—while on the balcony above was a fire-twirling red-haired siren, and another gyrationist with conical boobs from which sprouted wax-burning candles.  And meanwhile, when we wandered back upstairs, into the secondary club, it was like walking into Spiegeltent—all mirrors and pole dancing.  “Um, excuse me, but does that pole come with the dancer?”

And Tracy—  “Oh, you.  Oh, you.  I can’t take it no more.”  There was such abundance, such pulchritudinous excess—  The boyz on the boxes, like conductors—their hips, their pelvises directing us to move.  “You’ve got to free my love.”  That’s what it was about; that was the message of Genesis V: free your love.  Open yourselves to it; let it out.

And as if to subconsciously remind us to be good to those we love, there was “(Brazen) Weep,” that haunting Skunk Anasie track from yesteryear performed by a minx in feathered headdress.  We were under her spell, and Tracy’s, all through the day and into the night. 

For as someone said to us earlier in the afternoon, “If I could only attend one party a year, this would be it.”  Amen to that.  Great parties happen when the stars align—and thanks to Paolo Pincente, Tracy Young, Ferosh Records, and the staff of Cameo, Genesis is truly one of the great parties of our time.