Booked at the Depot, but moved at the last minute to after-hours spot 1722 a couple of doors down, and then ended early by 1722, this past Saturday's installment of Senari's Big Bang was all about keeping everybody, from those in attendance to the talent to promoter Puja Patel herself, off-balance.

At least part of the off-balance feeling, though, was intentional. Unpredictability is one of the most rewarding aspects of many of Patel's shows, especially past Big Bangs: DJ Booman at the Hexagon earlier this year and now, grab-bag dance party sets from Bmore Electro's Craig Sopo and Nacey of Nouveau Riche rubbing up against worker-bee club sets from King Tutt and DJ Pierre. The goal is diversity and an aggressive blurring of borders—and what better transition from electro to club than King Tutt?

The only "problem" with this mixing of scenes is that the promise of club music to anybody in Baltimore has the unfortunate effect of pushing everything that isn't club, no matter how awesome—and indeed, there were moments of pulsing, treble-filled glee in Nacey and Sopo's sets—off to the side, simply because anything that isn't club music can't compete. That's the whole schtick of Baltimore's signature music. It sonically wrecks anything and everything in its path.

Still, Sopo and Nacey's sets were a crucial part of the event's conceit. Their impeccable taste and eclecticism, a preamble for many of the sounds the electro-leaning King Tutt would shoot into the stratosphere later in the night. Tutt's style is comfortably tucked between electro groove and the all-out chaos of club music: Giorgio Moroder rhythms and '70s zombie movie synths segueing into his own arsenal of club hits as well as classics like Scottie B's "Niggaz Fightin."

The key to Tutt's live set, besides this nuanced understanding of how and where club and electronic music intertwine, is his tendency to test the limits of tension and release. Typical club sets thrive on build-ups and, though that's Tutt's long-term goal, he's apt to bring his set down to near-nothing—an barren echo of synths, so spare club-goers' conversations can be heard—only to ratchet it right up into high-BPM, firing-on-all-cylinders, club.

So around 1:30, in the moments between the music stopping and 1722's house lights coming on—the crowd shuddering like a bunch of Nosferatu—it seemed like a final blast of tension before an all-out explosion of release as Pierre approached the turntables. But, no, that was the end of the night. Big Bang, which moved out of the Depot due to double-booking now prematurely ended to make way for 1722's regular after-hours crowd.

DJ Pierre did not get to play. Guys with no interest in whether you actually finished your drink asked if you were "finished with that." And everyone was pushed onto Charles Street, promised we'd be let back in again in just a bit, which of course never happened. It was all very confusing.

In front of 1722, as club and electro fiends cried out along with a confused Pierre, the stunned Doo-Dew Kids, and a hilariously indignant Get Em Mamis ("What is this, high school?"), a very Baltimore after-party occurred. It just had to happen before the real party wrapped up. Soon enough, though, a rent-a-cop tossed out threats of arrest as 1722 welcomed in a new group of partiers. And Big Bang was over.

The final performance of the night then, was not Pierre but Patel herself, dead set on getting everyone back inside. Whether Big Bang went off exactly as planned or not, however, is beside the point. Patel's goal is bringing people together, the bridging of scenes, and that was felt with the borders-blurring line-up that did get to spin and even in that final, communal "What the fuck?" outside 1722.

Just a few days later, Patel has promised a show next month featuring Tutt and Pierre. Everybody that came out to this past Big Bang will get in free and get a free drink, too. How's that for community?

If you can't wait, you can get a sense of Pierre's live set via his latest mix CD, Volume 7: Back to School Edition. Running through 35 tracks in a little over an hour, heavily leaning on the ADD, stacked-tracks sound of Pierre's youthful club peers like DJ RL, Murder Mark, and, of course, Pierre himself, but with an increasingly nuanced sense of mixing, it should tide you over. You can purchase a copy of Volume 7 from DJ Pierre here.