#13 __ sustainability
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It doesn’t take long before you learn the signs. It’s that thousand-yard stare, a gaunt face with sunken eyes that don’t seem to be focused on anything. It can be a restlessness, a fidgety indecision, the darting looks to and fro, hunting for something not immediately present. Perhaps it’s only in the voice — those hints of frustration and stress, of trite dissatisfaction despite perfect party conditions.
Sometimes they’re just hitting it particularly hard that night. Or maybe they’ve gone out a few too many nights in a row and just haven’t slept enough — a weekend or two of rest, and they’ll be right as rain once more. But maybe they’re in withdrawal. Or perhaps they’re living evidence of the consequences following a lifetime of drug abuse.
One night at 4am, someone told me they’d just come back from rehab, and my heart sank. This place would not help them recover. It is hard to fathom how this could ever be a safe space for them — safe in that complete, holistic sense; a place that would lift them up, rather than tear them down.
In truth, what concerns me is not the so-called harder drugs. Most club drugs are not addictive, and many of them naturally lose their novelty over time. Alcohol, on the other hand, is physically addictive, psychologically habit-forming, and has generally destructive combinatorial effects with most other substances. More importantly, booze is built into the very structure of the scene; it is the core funding model, the premise of whatever meager profits club owners, promoters, and DJs might ever hope to see. Compensation for DJs is almost always supplemented with big stacks of drink tickets.
Secret Project Robot has this sign displayed prominently on the wall by the bar.
There it is: buying drinks, the first and most important step in supporting the scene. I put this side-by-side with tweets and instagram stories from DJs and promoters struggling with alcoholism, and my head hurts. What’s an alcoholic music lover meant to do?
I don’t have any good suggestions here; no clever funding models, no grand ideas about how to rethink this system. I simply don’t know enough about the pragmatics of running these events to opine meaningfully. But it’s a question I don’t see anyone asking: is there a way to fund these events without such a total dependence on alcohol?
A while back, I was on a date at the club. We were outside having a smoke, and as we headed inside, I started putting my ear plugs in. They gave me a quizzical look, noting that it wasn’t that loud in there. I shook my head and said it was loud enough, because I intend to do this for the rest of my life. They laughed.
I know that’s not the timescale many people are thinking on, and that’s fine. For a lot of folks, the club scene will just be one of many brief detours in their life. But for the scene to continue to grow and evolve, to learn from its failures and successes, to become something better and more complete — it needs experienced people that have been there for many years. People to teach newcomers the right way, to reinforce norms, to be role models. It needs people that will stick around, that won’t get pushed away.
I want this to be a scene I can enjoy when I am well-on in my years. I want at least some of the young people I see today to stick around, to make it through for the long haul. I don’t want to see all of them gradually picked off by their addictions, finding themselves forced to leave this scene for their own health and longevity.
Thank you so much for reading.
This weekend, I’ll be returning to the Black Hole for more hard techno. Buzzi’s set at Bossa a few weekends ago sent me through conniptions. I feel so bad for anyone near me that night — no one was safe from the sweat my hair was flinging around.
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