#33 __ the tourists

It was 4am at Nowadays, and I was chatting up a mopey fellow as I finished my cigarette. They asked me what I do. I told them I dance. No, they insisted, what do I do. I know what they mean, of course, but fuck that. I said I dance three nights a week, all night long. They didn’t understand, so I found myself trying to explain dance music as a concept. We’re fifty feet from the dance floor and they don’t know what they’re looking at. To me, this is the best nightclub in the country and there’s a god working the decks right now. To them, this is just another bar with loud music, one among several they’ve cruised through this evening.

They go by a dozen different names and faces — the bros, civilians, the straights and cishets, normies, Beckys and Karens— but the implication is always the same. They are outsiders: transient, uncommitted, and blissfully ignorant. They are here for different reasons than we are, often unrelated to the music or the party. They don’t know who’s playing but they’re impressed that you know the DJ. They want to know if you have any pills. They think it’s too loud in here. They drink too much, they bring violence and harassment, they’re oblivious to the vibe, they howl and clap miles off the beat.

I call them tourists because this best reflects their relationship to us and their impact on the experience. As much as we love to shit on them, the truth is that we need them. They pay full cover, they buy drinks, they bring their friends, and they fill up dance floors which would otherwise be sparse if it was only heads. They are the reason we can afford the fancy sound systems and pretty lights.

Tourists are easy to spot because they don’t know how to move. It’s not that they don’t know how to dance — though this is often the case as well — but there’s a skill that every raver unconsciously learns over time: how to smoothly get from one end of the room to the other in a crowded space. It’s about turning sideways, identifying gaps you can squeeze through, using your hands to signal where you’re headed, taking soft steps in time with the beat to keep the flow, following other people that are creating a wake, and apologizing when you inevitably fuck up and bump into someone. It’s minimizing disturbance and respecting other people’s space.

Once you learn it, it’s one of the simple joys of a thriving party. Taking the lead and guiding your friends into the thick morass. Weaving effortlessly between writhing bodies. Cruising around to find a nice spot. Scoping out the crowd. So satisfying. Normies just don’t know how to do this stuff, and it can make finding a groove on the dance floor nigh impossible when too many people are charging through, spilling drinks, and stepping on your toes every few minutes.

Despite their many sins, I believe they still deserve a chance. With the exception of those that somehow found their way to the rave as teenagers (an idea that continually boggles my mind as I get older), most of us were once one of them. This might be the night they discover they are one of us, if someone’s willing to show them the way.

Newcomers bring a raw excitement and curiosity that‘s harder to lure out of the cynics who are analyzing every mix, scoffing at overplayed track selections. For many, this is going to be the most fun they’ve ever had in their entire life. Maybe you’ve heard Aurora Halal play twenty-dozen times, but they’re about to have their minds blown and you get to watch. That’s a unique kind of energy that only they can bring.

Fresh blood is healthy for the vibe. New faces and personalities keep things from feeling too familiar, adding a flavor of unknown possibility to the night. Who might you meet tonight? It can be far easier to lose your inhibitions among strangers than among old friends. Anonymity is a hell of a drug.

The presence of civilians also suggests that we haven’t fallen too far down our own rabbit hole. We’re creating an experience that taps into to something basic and universally human. We are still accessible, in touch with the rest of the world. Not everyone wants this, of course, but that’s why the noise scene exists. (heh)

The challenge for parties is to find the balance. You need people that know what this is all about. Role models on and off the dance floor that embody the vibe. A foundation to build the night on. But you don’t want a monoculture. Diversity creates the best dance floors.

Too many outsiders, however, and any example set by veteran dancers is lost in the stiff wind of drunk oblivion. It doesn’t matter how good the music or the space is: the experience is dominated by people who are not attuned to the music or the crowd as a whole. You might as well be in a sports bar off Times Square.

I love the tourists. I hate the tourists. God bless them and may they find their way into the correct uber at the end of the night.

Thank you so much for reading.

See also:

• #15 __ curating crowds
• #10 __ community