Bass, good vibes win out during triumphant return of the Snake Pit at the Indianapolis 500

On a familiar grass field inside the third turn of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Oval, superstar DJ Steve Aoki signaled the return of the state's biggest dance party with a little dessert.

Some cake, to be specific. Or cakes, to be even more specific.

As Aoki wrapped up a blistering set in the Snake Pit, back at the Indianapolis 500 after two years of COVID-related cancellations, he threw several half-sheet cakes directly into a massive, apparently hungry crowd.

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Aoki, a past headliner at the early morning party known for thumping bass and colorful outfits, set the tone early.

"We don't give a s*** if it's f***ing 9 a.m.," Aoki shouted. "We're here to rage."

Luckily, the crowd — estimated by NBC's Indy 500 broadcast at 25,000 revelers, which felt about right — wore its best raging attire: American flag print overalls, neon tank tops and all manner of checkered clothing.

As the sun began to beat down in hour six of the pulsating EDM show, the best raging attire often became no attire at all — a Snake Pit tradition. Whether that's out of necessity or opportunity is not for me to decide.

Gatherings of this size can feel a bit unfamiliar these days, and alcohol, sunshine and youth were in abundance. But I saw only good vibes.

Hugs, fist bumps and shoulder rides ruled the day. A few footballs flew around, as did inflatable dolphins, aliens and turtles.

One rather industrious man had duct taped a Michael Myers, of "Halloween" fame, mask to the top of four pool noodles. It towered above the crowd for most of the day.

He also often drank a bright blue liquid from a large, clear plastic jug that resembled a gas can. I'm willing to bet it was not Kool-Aid.

I saw no fights and only a handful of alcohol-related medical issues. Staff handed out water to anyone lying down. The portable bathrooms and concessions held up.

It did not surprise me that Sunday's crowd was much, much younger than the Legends Day and Carb Day concerts on Saturday and Friday, respectively. Just how young was made clear by, who else, Aoki.

When he played a sample of Nirvana's generation-defining hit "Smells Like Teen Spirit," the first thing I heard was someone yelling "who is this?" A clip from Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" yielded a question from another woman: "Is this that 'Pocahontas' song?"

Ouch.

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After Aoki's set, a helmet-less deadmau5 delivered a solid but laid back set. I wanted to see the helmet, but a 2018 IndyStar story chronicled just how hot it is under there, so I get it.

The story also noted that several of deadmau5's laptops overheated during his last Snake Pit set, but he avoided this Sunday.

His set was a bit of a letdown, given the energy level and growing crowd size as the familiar DJ hit the stage. But it also was 11 a.m.

The party paused for some brief patriotic and regional pride during the pre-race ceremony. It launched into a "U.S.A." chant after the national anthem, and more than a few people sang along to "(Back Home Again in) Indiana."

Has anyone playing the Snake Pit ever dropped a trap version of "(Back Home Again in) Indiana?" I feel like that would slay, but is it sacrilege? I honestly don't know.

Thousands of people appeared to clear out for the start of the race. It was strange to me, then, when headliner Martin Garrix hit the stage just after the start.

With a whole day to work with, why have the headlining act compete with the start of the race? It wasn't until halfway through Garrix's almost unfathomably loud set that the crowd returned to the Pit.

During this slight lull, the spokesman for a group of friendly shirtless folks approached me at stage left.

His name was Max Fleetwood. He is 24 years old and from Indianapolis. This was his 12th race and second Snake Pit.

"They've got to make the Snake Pit more geared towards concert goers who are race fans," he said. "I paid $200 for the VIP wristband. I thought I'd get to see the race."

Fleetwood agreed the headlining act should go on later, so that folks can watch the start of the race and have time to make it back.

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By about 1:30 p.m., the full crowd had returned and promptly set the energy benchmark during the latter half of Garrix's set. Between the bass, which rattled your chest if heard straight on, and the crowd, it was perhaps the loudest 20 minutes or so of my life.

EDM, techno, trap — whatever you want to call the music of the Snake Pit — has to be our most accessible music. That's what I love about it. You don't need to know the words or have any deep frame of reference.

There's a beat. You have a body. Put those things together until the beat stops, and get excited for its inevitable return — often accompanied by a handy countdown. When that reaches zero, yell and jump like your body is on fire. Repeat for eight hours. Easy.

Having survived my first Snake Pit on three hours of sleep, a chicken kabob, lots of water and a half-gallon of sunscreen, I saw the appeal and understood the football field-sized hole left on race day these past two years.

But could a more experience snake maybe let me know when my ears, head and body will stop buzzing?

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Rory Appleton is the pop culture reporter at IndyStar. Contact him at 317-552-9044 and rappleton@indystar.com, or follow him on Twitter at @RoryDoesPhonics.

This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: Indy 500 Snake Pit recap: Steve Aoki, deadmau5, Martin Garrix perform