The Rabbit Hole may be the last underground node after the corporate whitewashing of downtown Indianapolis. While that’s a story for another day, this isn’t a bad way to go out.
There’s a specific kind of energy you only find in a basement club—a raw, unfiltered pulse that corporate venues just can’t replicate. It’s the feeling of leaving the surface world behind as you descend a steep, neon-drenched staircase that looks like a psychedelic portal into Wonderland.
Once you’re through the “Looking Glass” and past the blacklight-reactive murals of the Mad Hatter, the atmosphere shifts from surreal to high-tech underground.The main room is a masterclass in mood, anchored by massive, glowing hexagonal LED panels that crawl across the ceiling and walls like a geometric glitch in the matrix.
These sharp blues and reds cut through the shadows of the exposed industrial pipes and dark brick, creating a sanctuary for the heavy low-end. At the center of it all is the command center—for this evening, the latest Pioneer tech—which isn’t necessarily important, but it serves as the focal point for the DJs performing the night’s ritual.
Before we talk about the amazing talent, I did a little digging into the historical context of the building for the nerds out there. I mean, you’ve read one event article, you’ve read them all… right? So, here is a bit of history.
The space itself is housed within the McKee Building at 200 S. Meridian Street, a landmark in the city’s Wholesale District that dates back to 1888. Originally designed by the architectural firm R.P. Daggett & Co., the building served for decades as a commercial warehouse during a period when this area was the industrial hub of Indianapolis. While the street-level and upper floors have evolved over the last century, the basement retains its original Romanesque Revival character, featuring the same heavy brick and foundation work that was carefully restored during a major renovation in the early 1980s.
Curtis Jones showed his face for the first time in years to warm the place up. The floor was slow-moving at first—I mean, who the fuck but my nerd ass is going to be at a club at 8:00 or 9:00 PM? So, this one goes out to all the opening DJs who can rock some shit but rarely get in front of a real crowd.
Curtis Jones has been a DJ since before most of you were even a thought in existence. I’m going to guess 26 years plus—the days when we actually played records. Every set I hear from this man is absolutely flawless; he knows mood, vibe, frequencies, and tones. He knows how to build an atmosphere. Thankfully, as people started to trickle in, he didn’t just curate the set to them. He stayed in the zone and did the work. I had the time of my life getting to listen to him play for the first time in a couple of years. Curtis is a perfect example of talent that does it purely for the love.
Jeff Long is a long-standing favorite in the Indianapolis scene, recently seen helming high-profile sets like the Hot & Bubbly New Year’s Eve bash at Regions Tower. Known for a high-energy flow and a professional presence in the booth, he’s the kind of reliable local fixture who keeps the city’s underground pulse steady.When he stepped into the terminal for his ritual, he kept the momentum going, knowing exactly how to handle a room like this. He maintained the drive with a solid, high-energy set that bridged the gap between the early vibes and the peak of the night. Even if you aren’t a gear-head or a deep-dive nerd, you can appreciate someone who just knows how to lock in and keep the floor steady. He’s a pro’s pro, and having him in the booth at The Rabbit Hole was a perfect fit for the night’s energy.
The energy shifted into high gear when DJ Mes took over the decks. A relentless force in the house scene since the mid-90s, Jason Sutton (aka DJ Mes) is the mastermind behind Guesthouse Music, a label that has become a global powerhouse for that chunky, jackin’ house sound. He’s a prolific producer with a #1 house track under his belt on the legendary Cajual Records, and watching him work the booth was a masterclass in longevity. He effortlessly bridged the gap between old-school grit and the modern digital era, proving exactly why he’s still a headlining titan in 2026.
By this point, the club was packed, the air was heavy, and the energy was peaking. I haven’t mentioned Uriah G yet, mostly because I’ve written dozens of paragraphs about him over the years, but also because something bigger than a standard set was happening.The real story wasn’t about the tracklist—though the 2×4 tag set he and Curtis Jones dropped at the end of the night absolutely ripped the matrix apart. The real story is a tale of two best friends who fell out years ago. The “why” doesn’t even fucking matter anymore. What matters is that through the power of music, bridges can be rebuilt if you’re willing to stand on your principles and ignore the bullshit you think you know.
Chances are, if you’re reading the rumors, you don’t know shit about fuck. This was a display of brotherly love—once enemies, now back in sync, rocking a packed room of people making merry. It was the perfect closure to the ritual, proving that the music we’re archiving isn’t just sound; it’s the glue that holds the node together.
NO GODS – NO MASTERS
“Look what Hell made”