by Shane Patterson
Her name may be small, but her performance this past Saturday at the Afterhours Anonymous Warehouse was anything but. Along with local DJ Danny Marin and Diego Santana from San Jose, the dancefloor was moving all night long and well into the morning. An all-night party, the DJ based from Germany kept going well into the morning hours in the warehouse with her stunning visual displays and continuous house vibe. The endless flow each DJ brought from multiple corners of the world to the dance floor most definitely left one in a trance.
Despite her name, tINI is anything but. In 2003 tINI began in clubs around Munich Germany, and by 2008 was headlining her own shows and nightclubs. She’s still going strong, touring the world and playing in some of the most amazing places, such as Ibiza. Although not a party island off the coast of Spain, tINI still brought the life of Ibiza to the warehouse.
Playing for four hours, tINI most definitely brought the vibrant night life of Europe with her to the dance floor. Behind her were two large screens projecting images that caught the attention of the eyes while the body danced – such as Tom Cruise’s head splitting in half and a fish swimming between them. The music was just as entrancing and enticing, having your ears and mind listening to the sudden drops as intensely as you would watch the displays behind her. To top the scene off, lasers and fog machines complimented the amount of people that showed up for the event, with dancers reaching into the hundreds, entranced all night long.
Deep in Denver in a warehouse somewhere no one would ever expect was a curly-haired woman throwing down all night, in a large facility with wide open space for hundreds to dance. Just outside this dancing party are cookie-cutter houses on one end, and towering factory steam-stacks on the other. And somewhere in-between are hundreds of people dancing all night to one of the world’s top DJ’s. Returning after three years, tINI brought much rhythm and energy to the night, leaving this writer’s legs like noodles as he walked to the morning light-rail, with her beats still beating in his head.