#15 __ curating crowds
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Early on, I remember telling someone my story of how a visit to Berlin kicked off my dance exploration.
“Ah, of course. You’ve been techno-turned,” they said with a knowing grin.
I had no idea this was such a common experience. I wasn’t sure whether to feel proud that I’d participated in a rite of passage, or embarrassed at how predictable and basic I had shown myself to be.
Techno and house weren’t invented in Europe, but for many people that’s where they get their first true taste of dance music. Berlin, in particular, has been regarded as a mecca for many years because it hosts some of the world’s largest and longest-running clubs. The government has allowed this to flourish with party-friendly legislation — no time constraints for selling alcohol, no open container laws, even granting tax breaks by labeling the biggest clubs as cultural institutions.
The result is that a staggering quantity of tourists come to Berlin every weekend just to experience the club scene, particularly bolstered by the ultra-cheap flights across Europe through the bargain airlines (Easyjet, Ryanair, etc). This might sound problematic — and certainly for many locals in Berlin, it’s viewed with much disdain — but this degree of popularity allows clubs to choose their patrons.
My first night out in Berlin, I was unsure how I felt about this whole door policy business. I figured they were rejecting “ugly” people, or only letting men in that brought women with them, or something otherwise shallow and heinous. But once I was inside, I understood what was happening at the door. This was not discrimination, but curation.
The crowd was a near-equal mix of men and women, diverse in nationality, ethnicity, and appearance. The entire night, I didn’t witness a single instance of harassment or unwanted touching. Not one drunk motherfucker careening from wall to wall. Halfway through the night, the staff brought this girl in a wheelchair to the center of the dance floor, where everyone made room for her. Every single goddamn person was dancing. Not a phone in sight.
The difference this makes in the party experience cannot be understated.
A trustworthy crowd makes it possible for the vulnerable to feel safe enough to get lost in the music, to move however they want, without fear of judgment or assault. A diverse crowd discourages the sensation of a space feeling owned by one gender or ethnicity; it leads to open-mindedness and creates opportunities to witness and share in the multitude of perspectives and approaches toward dancing and parties. An engaged crowd unifies the party towards the music, literally synchronizing our bodies and minds into this shared experience.
There is nothing else on this planet like being surrounded by 200 people that are all, at least for a few moments, on the exact same page. To look in every direction and see nothing but smiles, contentment, rapture. To see each person exploring the space, the music, and the people around them in their own unique and individual way.
Until visiting Berlin, I didn’t know this environment was possible. I, like many others, assumed that assholes and trollops were just an inexorable part of the dancing experience, because that’s all I’d seen at concerts and the handful of clubs I’d visited. That’s one of the reasons I came back obsessed, this whole new possibility space opened in my imagination.
All this came to mind last weekend while I was back in Berlin. In line at Tresor, I listened for over an hour to the interminable whinging of four boys behind me. When they weren’t barfing and dry heaving in the bushes, they constantly fretted about whether or not they would get in. It was such a relief to see them rejected. My night may very well have been poisoned, otherwise.
Meanwhile, in Brooklyn, those dudes are lurking in nearly every party. Finding quality crowds here is not easy.
For a while, underground events could be trusted, as there’s a natural filter selecting for people that have the “in”. But as gentrification creeps across Brooklyn, the number of true underground parties has dwindled. Nearly all parties are taking place in legitimate venues now, making them much easier for anyone to find. Meanwhile, Resident Advisor has centralized the ticketing process for practically all electronic music events. Security through obscurity is no longer an option.
Clubs and parties forever operate on the edge of profitability. Many of them believe they can’t afford to say no to even the more toxic guests, because the cost of throwing a single party is so high — between the venue, security, sound system & engineers, lights & lighting designers, DJs, booze & bartenders — every ticket and drink purchase counts. But this ignores the long-term loss of all the people that won’t come out because they hate the crowds.
This is one more post where I’m asking questions I don’t have the answers to. I don’t know how parties and clubs in America can or ought to be curating crowds. But I know that for dance music to ever be truly accessible, to be enjoyed and loved by anyone — we have to figure out how to create safe spaces filled with diverse people that are engaged with the music. Otherwise, many people will only ever know clubs as loathsome places.
Thank you so much for reading.
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