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If there was one thing that was evident this year, it was how closely “tribes” stuck together and how little cross pollination.

There were the pool parties but now that Beatport charges for their event, conference week lost its one great free networking event.  Its DNS were top notch and mercifully less commercial than those at the Shelborne, Surfcomber and Nikki’s, where spring break was more the order of the day. Maybe that’s why my favorite pool party of all was the South Seas South Philly pool party. The pool itself had the charm of an urban watering hole, and if the bodies were less perfect than those at the swanky parties, the dancing, the music and the vibe had a gritty rawness the others couldn’t buy.

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Miami’s like a ghost town, populated by a handful of zombified veterans, delaying re-entry as long as possible. Tales of old conferences have been told; reasons to return discussed. And good-byes, some with an air of possible finality, were exchanged.

But so were reasons to return, like the boat party, Sunday School and John Digweed’s throw-down at the Vagabond. At least in Digweed’s case, that has as much to do with the club as it does the DJ.

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The Sasha and John Digweed boat party may have upheld an annual tradition but tweaked another. In the past, the party was on a Friday, the night after they played at the Mansion. This year, you had about two hours to get from the boat to the South Beach super club, and the process was jarring.

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