8 March 19-25, 2026 miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | NEWS | LETTERS | CONTENTS | Month XX–Month XX, 2008 miaminewtimes.com MIAMI NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | ART | STAGE | NIGHT+DAY | METRO | RIPTIDE | LETTERS | CONTENTS | HEELS ON THE MAIN STAGE T hey stood tall on one side of the room, dressed in all-black and high-heeled boots. One, two, three, they slipped into forma- tion like quicksilver, cutting the air in sharp movements. Hands by their hips, legs straight, eyes piercing. On the other end, their feet bounced between the floor and the air as if trying to spark a fire. Each leg moved in a mesmerizing one/two — everyone locked in step with one another. The Ultra Angels — the Downtown elec- tronic music festival’s designated dancing en- semble since 2013 — held a practice for New Times in a Riverside studio on a chilly Febru- ary evening. They trickled in, giving each other hugs. They wore their Ultra/Resistance (Ultra’s techno brand) shirts, leggings, and embroidered socks, and soon took position. The 90-minute practice was light, with techno and EDM playing from a speaker. The twenty or so dancers at the studio were Miami natives and daughters of immi- grants. Some come from as far as Belgium. Some have been dancing ballet, tap, salsa, or jazz since they were three years old; others got into dancing in college. Some have worked in the circus; others in clubs. Some dance with fire; others ascend curtains and contort in the air. The Angels likely wouldn’t be here with- out their Director of Entertain- ment, Katie Kansas. A native of the Midwest state, and a dancer since she was three. She discov- ered electronic music in the late ‘90s through friends holding makeshift basement raves in the halcyon days when elec- tronic music was trickling into the middle of America. She moved to Denver to study at Rocky Mountain Col- lege of Art and Design. While in Denver, she immersed herself in rave culture and began danc- ing at clubs and designing costumes. Later, she found her way to New York City to con- tinue working in the dance industry. In 2011, she received a call from Ultra’s co-founder Russell Faibisch. “He said, ‘We were looking for something new, and you are somebody we should talk to.’” Ultra had dancers since its 1999 inception on Miami Beach, but it was a grassroots, dis- jointed effort. Faibisch wanted an organized team with choreography that could keep pace with the festival’s growing seismic produc- tion. “I did a trial in 2011, and Russell reached back out in 2012 to give it another try,” re- counts Kansas. “Angels came about, I think, when we were in Buenos Aires, and Russell said, ‘This is it. You’re doing the right work, but you have to figure it out for all the world- wide partners.’” Faibisch was referring to Ul- tra’s global brand, which hosts over two dozen festivals and shows in Argentina, Ja- pan, Spain, and Australia. “I knew from branding and marketing that we needed a name and fans to be relevant, like any DJ. The name and brand were what was needed for the worldwide partners.” Kansas developed the proof of concept, dedi- cated an Instagram to the Angels, and started touring in 2013. While artists performing at other big festivals develop their own spectac- ular choreography, Ultra is one of the few that has a designated team of dancers traveling the world for the brand. Now, DJs on the Main Stage, the Resis- tance Cove and MegaStructure, and the Ultra Worldwide stage share the limelight with the all-women 40-dancer team. The Angels’ du- ties also expanded to Resistance’s brick-and- mortar residency, M2 on Miami Beach, during its season. It’s hard to miss the Angels on game day. They arrive at the festival around 10 a.m. for warm-ups and various makeup and costume designs for each of the three days. “We have helmets and armor and very high heels, and we walk the en- tire festival in heels,” says Eli over the calls of five, six, seven, eight. She is an aerialist for Re- sistance and a native of Belgium who trained in Paris. “I’m in the air — we are professional circus artists. We can adapt easily. Back when Ultra started, it was just a stage, and the dancer made it bigger. Some people now come just to see the Ultra dancers.” The Angels are split be- tween those who dance for Re- sistance at the outdoor stage by the water, the Cove, or inside the roofed MegaStructure with its tunnel-like architecture and LED lights that lower and raise from the roof. Within the MegaStructure, Angels dance flu- idly to techno’s repetitive, darker sounds. Sharing the space are aerialists like Eli, who wrap themselves in twenty-foot lengths of white curtain, hooking their feet in the crooks of their elbows and knotting their bodies mid- air as lasers and lights go berserk. The other Angel division is the “Hype Squad.” These are shufflers who are on the festival grounds with attendees, whose pur- pose is to excite the crowd and allow them to dance and enjoy the show. “The running man and the T-steps are the two most important moves,” explains local Angel Gabby Valdez on the signature Melbourne shuffle, a dance style where dancers twist and pump their legs in a blur, like sprinting in place but with sharper pivots and turns. “If you just have those two down, you can become a whole shuffler.” The Angels hold auditions in Miami virtu- ally every year. Applicants are given a chore- ography a couple of weeks before, then perform it for Kansas and other judges. Many can match the tempo, but Kansas follows an experiential approach. It’s, in part, an I ’ll- know-it-when-I-see-it method. “I look for stars. It’s hard to explain. Do I need auditions every year? Not necessarily. Am I always look- ing for the next star? Of course.” Indeed, her Instagram handle reads, “My Real Talent is Finding Gems.” The other element is gauging whether an applicant will be compatible with the team. It’s entirely team-driven, and what is good for the team is good for the individual. “You have to have a lot of stamina. It’s a lot of work,” explains Kansas, “And we’re not just performing at the festival; we also have family dinners, go support artists at after-parties, and explore each city. We hit the ground run- ning with rehearsals. But if you don’t get along, you’re not on the team. I don’t deal with drama — there’s no need. The brand is built on a community of dancers. And I want people to feel proud of the team. If you take it for granted, there is someone else who really wants the job.” Not making the auditions brings obvious melancholy. But every Angel that did not make the audition the first time never took it as a sign of defeat. One veteran Angel of eight years, Kim Kong, part of Resistance and an aerialist, auditioned three times. “I wasn’t brought up to dance. I call myself the ‘non- dancing dancer,’” she says with a warm smile. “I started at Ultra in 2018. I auditioned three times until I got it — I will never forget that. I just knew in my bones that I was meant for it and that ‘no’ didn’t mean never." Rehearsals can only go so far. During the festival, the Angels have spent roughly 3 hours getting on stage. There are external fac- tors, such as the weather. Of course, there is fire and water that shoot out of the Main Stage feet away from the Angels. Then there are the minor errors that the layperson doesn’t realize, like the mark on the stage’s floor is missing, and the Angel doesn’t know where to take position. “Doing it for so long, you still don’t get over the nerves, but you get more confident,” Ash- ley Gonzalez, a Miami native and dancer since age three, says. “Truly, you have to pre- pare physically, mentally, and eat healthier. Especially with the heat, be careful and stay hydrated. If you’re not taking care of yourself, you won’t perform the best. But there is noth- ing like seeing the crowd — just the wave of energy. It’s a natural high.” The chief misconception the Angels ex- pressed is that they are not considered “danc- ers” by whatever defines the word — that somehow dancing on a stage to thousands is lesser than pirouetting in a concert hall. “One of the main misconceptions is that people don’t know the professionalism that it involves. You’re presenting a global brand, and people think you’re just up there. We have to look good, intact, and exactly like our partner — we’re a representation of 20 26 From shufflers to aerialists, the Ultra Angels power Miami’s biggest electronic festival. BY GRANT ALBERT Ultra has had dancers since its 1999 debut, but it was a grassroots effort. Photo by Sean Pozin >> p9
