#30 __ the good old days

Last weekend, I finally checked off the most debaucherous item on my party bucket list: I attended a panel. Pretty wild, right?

Titled Clubland and its Discontents: Dialectics of Dance and Anti-Dance in NYC Underground Music, it was hard to know what to expect — it’s a theme so broad as to include any angle of commentary on the scene. I didn’t know any of the speakers or moderators, so I was going in completely blind, just hungry to enjoy sober conversation about our culture. What are other people thinking and feeling? What do they see? How bad are these takes going to be? I had zero expectations and a deeply morbid curiosity.

The first half of the discussion was focused on the late 90’s and early aughts. The speakers were veterans of the scene, and with one prompt from the moderator they jumped right into storytelling sessions about the bygone days of underground music in New York. It was everything I never knew I wanted from a forum like this.

Over the course of an hour and a half they pieced together fragments of precious memories from dozens of different bars and venues that shaped their relationship to music and forged the bonds of community. They reminisced about a time before techno, when it was regarded as an obscure German oddity, barely tolerated or understood. There were no star-studded bookings or famous headliners drawing crowds. For them, the role of the DJ at a party was far more informal; rather than the director of the dancefloor, they were first and foremost curators of interesting tracks. The focus was less on mixing or even beatmatching, but on selection.

It was underground in the best and worst senses of the idea. Events were thrown together with whatever was available, DIY in the truest sense where nobody had a clue what they were doing. There were no venues dedicated to experimental or electronic music, nor even many legal spaces to dance. They shared stories about getting hauled out of bars for dancing and of warning systems to alert DJs that the cops were coming so they could switch the music.

Meanwhile, some things never change. The same hunger for creative community that brought me to New York in 2013 is what what lured them in the 90’s. They didn’t know what exactly they would find, but there was a gut instinct that New York was the place to find it — or at least, to find other people who shared that desire. It was true then, and it’s true now.

I felt lucky to witness the conversation. Invaluable knowledge and first-hand experiences were being handed down for the benefit of the community. It was just two old heads sharing great stories.

The second half of the discussion introduced a new moderator and panelists, focusing on the last ten years of the scene. The moderator came unprepared — not a single question to ask or prompt to offer. The conversation rapidly careened into the minutiae of different car services (Juno seems to be the popular option, if you’re wondering). When things finally came back around to the topic of dance music, a sneer spread across the table. “I hate club nights” one person said, followed by a chorus of groans and nods.

They bemoaned the ubiquity of techno — everyone’s playing the same thing, no matter when or where you go. They lamented the death of DIY events — everything today is too professional, too polished, confined to legit venues. No one does listening parties any more. No one’s taking risks. Not like the old days.

Do you remember those days? Oh man, they were something else. You really missed out. Let me tell you. I was there. Unter’s just not like it used to be, ever since they lost the warehouse. Sustain-Release is over; it’s so mainstream now. Movement is passé, not like when it was still called DEMF. Let me tell you. When it was cool. When it was just the freaks and heads. When it was real, authentic, genuine, organic, whole-grain, grass-fed. Not like now. Obviously.

Nobody on this panel said any of these things, but they didn’t have to. It’s an attitude so common among regulars in the dance community that it can be recognized a mile away. The mythology of an impossibly perfect past, memories clutched with a white-knuckled fist. Sometimes it’s expressed as an aloof boredom or casual disdain. Other times, it’s an elitism weaponized to look down on newcomers and reject change.

Every community has its share of golden age syndrome. Whether it’s neighborhoods, websites, video games, or music, there will always be people eager to rant about the way things used to be. That’s not always a bad thing, either. We need a healthy respect for the past and awareness for what has been lost over time. But it was so frustrating to hear established members of the community speak with such a low regard for the many incredible things happening in Bushwick right now.

Our clubs are far from perfect — but they are leagues beyond the bottle-service status-flaunting garbage of the past. We’re losing warehouses and DIY venues left and right, but the cabaret law is gone and new legit venues are constantly opening (and getting raided). Techno is common, but there is a place for every genre, every night of the week. To look at what we have today and see only stagnation is to ignore the incredible array of parties, producers, and DJs doing great work in our city.

Of course, I’m biased. I‘m just entering my third year of dancing, and I can’t miss what I never had. I’m sure that when the tides inevitably turn against my favorite venues and musical styles, I’ll have my own bitterness and disconnection to deal with. New York is a city of constant change and upheaval. Nothing lasts forever here. Some day, Bossa and Nowadays will close. I’ll step into the newest venue to open up, I’ll hate the music and the crowd, and I’ll think it’s all over for the scene in New York. And I’ll be wrong.

I walked away from this panel energized and delighted because I got the best and the worst of what the panel format has to offer. On the one hand, I heard a thoughtful celebration of the past that deepened my understanding of how our scene came to be what it is today. I also saw a deep misunderstanding for the state of our union, which is the very sort of thing that pushes me to write and contribute.

Thank you so much for reading.

previously on outer ][ space:

• #29 __ sustain-release
• #28 __ i’ve seen you around
• #27 __ gentrification