Make Time For Making Time

Philadelphia is not widely considered a hotbed for dance culture — it is better associated with punky, DIY grit. One key exception is Making Time, a lifeline for adventurous showgoers in the City of Brotherly Love. Founder David Pianka (AKA DJ Dave P.) was employed at a coffee shop in the 1990s, which put him in the orbit of local bands. For his first foray into music, he invited them to play a party. "Each floor had a different genre," he remembers. "It was a one-off that we were going to do with our friends. It wasn't meant to be a party for 25 years." Named after a song by the Creation, the series endured. By the time the Strokes played in 2001, Making Time was a precocious institution.

Making Time has flourished well beyond its modest roots, becoming a three-day event in its fifth incarnation at haunted Fort Mifflin. I attended for the second time in September, following a rain-soaked introduction in 2023. The lineup spans electronic, ambient, and indie rock — performances hosted in historic spaces including artillery bunkers and secluded groves. Pianka's vision is uniquely close to my heart. Having grown up a Revolutionary War reenactor in Virginia, I bring that nerdiness to raving as an adult. Fulfilling Pianka's "transcendental plan," Making Time operates at the level of Dekmantel or Draaimolen while staying earnest and unpretentious.

Pianka approaches scheduling as a DJ set, escalating from amorphous experimentation to downtempo to straight-ahead bangers. "This festival allowed me to revisit the past of Making Time and incorporate more guitar and experimental music," he muses. "It allowed me to diversify the bookings. I was starting to feel stifled by parties with three or four people. People don't necessarily want to hear Malibu at 4 a.m. It doesn't allow me to book according to my interests, which is what I do — I book what I like." Pianka maintains a long note on his phone, updated with gems discovered on Bandcamp, Boomkat, and NTS. 2025 highlights ranged from Ghost Dubs' North American debut to Olof Dreijer's bleepy aural patchwork to Suzanne Kraft commemorating the daylit album Talk From Home.

There is a cyclical quality to Making Time, the sonics in constant motion. "You can experience music walking from one stage to another or when you're getting a beer," Pianka says. "It's all-encompassing and infinite." Gloopy visuals from Klip Collective and a tucked-away gong room further the immersion. I embraced a sampling platter mentality as I wandered between Making Time's six zones, shuffling beneath a Pringle-yellow tent one moment and crouched within an earthen wall the next. My brain was euphoric, rapidly absorbing avant-folk from Tara Clerkin Trio, Donato Dozzy's meditative insistence, and jacked-up UKG by Interplanetary Criminal. This was my first ever festival solitary and sober from beginning to end, yet I was never out of place or antsy.

Though the 18th century site is distanced from urban bustle, Philadelphia is a main character. The humane cost of living has allowed Pianka to grow a practice without survival hustle. Unlike outdoorsy East Coast peers, Making Time offers cosmopolitan amenities — from a natural wine cave to bug spray. The Lot Radio and Resident Advisor promoted stages. Food carts acknowledged Pennsylvania's thriving culinary world. Pianka avoids radius clauses, encouraging gigging around Making Time; he even spearheaded a nationwide tour for Aya to offset the price of a visa.

As someone staring down 30, dreaming of catching Ben UFO without crashing in a sleeping bag, Making Time provides a compromise. While I waited for my bus to Brooklyn on Sunday night, a crew of black-clad strangers materialized. We were all in a post-transcendental state, and settled into a warm conversation about standout sets and the ones we regretted missing. Even once speakers fall silent, Pianka's exuberance keeps Making Time masterful.

PEAK TIME

THE AFTERS