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A strobe of light dances off trees in the Santa Barbara mountains as the Egyptian Lover takes the decks. It’s the weekend before Halloween, high time for the freaks to descend. The Egyptian Lover steps into the booth, cutting his iconic figure against the night sky — Kangol hat on backward, Roland TR-808 drum machine operating as an extra appendage — L.A.’s most mythic figure of freakiness rising. The scene: A vaguely bohemian indie-electronic festival running rampant with stoned college kids dressed as Velma and Scooby, tech-house bros and aging Burners looking for a dopamine hit. It’s not immediately the kind of vibe that feels compatible with the famously raunchy electro-hop t

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