#34 __ moments to remember

There’s no such thing as the greatest party or the best DJ — music is personal, subjective, and inseparable from its context. Even picking favorites loses meaning over time. How can you compare the total rapture of one night to another? It doesn’t make sense.

Instead, I want to reflect on the moments — good and bad — that have stuck with me over this year. In 2018, I was introduced to the many different kinds of parties and styles of dance music out there. 2019 was a year of diving into the details, getting to know people, and understanding my role at the party.

Laksa @ Reconstrvct.03: Forced Enjoyment

I was sick as a dog this night, but I couldn’t miss this party. I remembered what the last two had done to me.

The first Recon introduced me to the concept of a bass party. It was an incredibly novel experience, built on a totally different premise than techno or house parties. The second Recon taught me about the full range of sounds that can be found in bass music, with many experimental and nearly ambient buildups into serious drum & bass breakdowns.

The third Recon — particularly Laksa’s set — taught me that my body has an almost involuntary response to great breaks. After a few minutes of stuttered bass lines and drum loops, my whole posture changes. I feel light on my feet, I’m bouncy and responsive to every sudden shift in tempo, and suddenly I’m sweeping the dance floor in huge leaps and spins. It immediately unlocks something deeply creative and confident in my movement. The truth is that I might enjoy dancing to breaks more than techno. It’s just harder to find in New York.

Manni Dee @ Untermania II

I finally understood what it means for a DJ to play to the sound system and the venue. It was an idea I’d been struggling with; why do some DJs I adore at the club sound so weak at the rave? But something about Manni Dee’s mixing made it clear to me. He was allowing space for the huge bass lines and kicks in his tracks to fill the whole room. He wasn’t rushing anything, but the pace was still furious. I’m beginning to see what differentiates the good from the great.

Perc Trax Showcase @ Movement

A night of serious industrial in what seemed like an abandoned school, full of wild moments. There was the guy who fell through the ceiling. The dumbass fire spinner who stepped right in front of the DJ, everyone screaming at them to stop because we could see the flames hitting the ceiling. Watching the sunrise through a broken window with new friends. It was dangerous in a way I don’t generally want raves to be (I’m kind of a nerd for safety, I guess) — but once in a while, it’s fun to say fuck it and embrace the beauty in chaos.

The security @ Freaklimate

This was where I learned how important security is to the vibe of a party. The bouncers were a more serious kind of muscle than you tend to see at parties; all of them wore badges and seemed like off-duty or retired cops. They made their presence consistently obvious as they parked at the front of the dance floor or meandered slowly through the crowd. At one point I stepped outside for a smoke, and then the door locked behind me. I asked the bouncer if he could open the door and he just stared ahead, ignoring me. It was an uncomfortable mixture with the sort of vulnerability and openness the dance floor and music brings out. Parties often can’t choose their security, so it’s nobody’s fault — but it highlighted the importance of a holistic vibe.

Wata Igarashi @ Movement

It was the perfect end to three days of non-stop dancing at Movement — a deeply hypnotic and tribal flow that brought the whole crowd of exhausted dancers into total, wordless unity. The quietest dance floor I’ve ever been on. Also the most pain I’ve ever been in while dancing, but I was compelled to push through and make it to the end.

WarinD @ The Black Hole

I had gone to a drum & bass show earlier in the night, so I showed up later than I usually do, at around 3am. By that point it was a raw sweatbox. The air was thick and hot, the tile floor was completely slick with sweat, and every single person was soaked head-to-toe. Five minutes on the dance floor and I, too, was utterly drenched. Beautiful.

I leapt in full force and gave my best energy. I saw one guy withdrawn, their head down, movements lagging, clearly overwhelmed. An excellent breakdown came through, I did a spin, flashed them a grin and a laugh, and they came to life with a smile and a nod. It looked like something clicked in their brain; the intensity of this music doesn’t mean you have to feel negative. You can greet hard and industrial techno with joy and happiness.

I danced for my life for an hour, then stepped outside to chat with friends for an hour, and it was perfect. I had a great time, but I knew it was pointless to try and go further. I know enough about myself now, that I absolutely must have good places to rest to make it through the night. If I try to spend my night somewhere without that, I’m going to have a bad time. But I can still have a wonderful night if I don’t force myself to stay late or arrive early. I finally got how to make this party work for me.

Sunrise @ Unter Christopher Street

There’s no party like a Pride party. While Unter often struggles to live up to its reputation as a queer party, this one is where Unter finally felt as queer as it’s supposed to. Things truly came alive after 6am, when all the club events had ended and it felt like every queerdo in Brooklyn was gathered together in this one place. There was simply no question: this was the place to be.

Further elevating this party was the outdoor stage. There’s a beautiful continuity to parties that can transition from indoor intensity to groovy outdoor vibes as the sun rises higher. We’ve spent the whole night together, and now the rules have changed. We don’t need the fog any longer. We’re getting tired, but there’s no reason to leave.

Fourth World 2K19

Community really began to materialize. With 18 hours to enjoy such a large space (the outdoor area of Knockdown Center is incredible), there was plenty of time to enjoy the music and let myself get lost in deep conversation with so many friends, new and old. Everyone in the scene was there. It’s one of the few parties that feels like it’s totally ours.

So many moments of connection with people. One friend took me into the green rooms (where the artists hang out) for my first time — a lifesaver since it kept me out of the massive bathroom lines. There was someone I’d seen (but never met) at dozens of parties before, and they asked if I wrote “that blog”. We launched into a lovely hour-long conversation about the scene.

It finally felt like I was making it. Being recognized as part of the community. My efforts were building into something.

Exile @ Bossa

This was the first night at Bossa where I knew every person playing on the lineup, and there’s nothing more wholesome than dancing for your friends. For most of them it was their first time playing Bossa, so we all shared an excitement for their debut in our local sanctuary. It was the night before Sustain, and there was a holiday energy in the air. It was just a pure weeknight Bossa experience.

DVS1 @ Sustain-Release

With just 40 or 50 people on the dance floor after sunrise, I had all the room to dance and a front-row seat to watch DVS1 work the decks. There’s nothing else like the intensity with which he operates these machines as he puffs away at a cigarette. He’s constantly bringing tracks in and out, maintaining this impossibly consistent improvisation where he’s juggling all these different bass lines and drums, teasing different melodies. It took him a full two hours just to warm up, by which point you could tell he was in his element — a warehouse with nothing but dedicated ravers inches away from him. I was completely locked in for the remaining 6 or 7 hours of his set.

I pushed my body harder than ever before in my life, pausing every twenty minutes to chug another bottle of water and chat with a friend for a few minutes before diving straight back in. It was pure fusion with the sound. The closest I ever came to this kind of extended rapture was at The Gods Planet last year, but I was held back because I wasn’t experienced enough. I didn’t have the right clothes or accessories to stay comfortable, my body wasn’t in this kind of shape, my mind wasn’t as focused. This time, I was prepared. I could go all the way.

Once his set was over, I devoured a sandwich and fell asleep in a hammock thirty feet from the dance floor. I will remember that dance floor for the rest of my life.

Caterina Barbieri @ Unsound

I had spent nearly two straight hours talking with friends. From the moment I arrived, I just kept running into people and finding myself engrossed in lovely conversation over and over. My voice was going hoarse, and I stepped away to get some water. I crossed through the main stage, looked up, and saw a perfect silhouette of a woman posing on the stage, backlit by strong teals and cyans. A simple hypnotizing melody stopped me in my tracks. Silence, then a single massive strike from a harpsichord. She lifted up the mic and started chanting.

I just started bawling. I don’t know why it was so immediate or so intense. Something about her pose, the lights, the harmony of her voice with the long release of the harpsichord. I was enthralled for ten minutes before carrying on with my quest for water.

If you’re curious, she was performing her album Ecstatic Computation.

Spinoff Gabber

For this last one, I’m going to re-post something I put on Facebook, because it captures all of this year for me.

around 7am i sat down for a rest. a stranger turned around and started chatting me up as we shared a cigarette. then they launched into a fifteen-minute monologue.

about me.

they said that they saw me everywhere this year and that i was usually alone. they could never imagine going out without their friends, but it gave them hope just knowing that i could do it. they said they saw a passion so strong it made them want to find something in life they loved as much as i loved dancing. they said whenever they saw me on the dance floor, they saw the party.

i hesitate to share this because i’m not trying to flaunt anything. the dance floor is not about ego.

but encouragement like this tells me that what i’m trying to do matters to at least a few people out there. that my efforts are not in vain. because i don’t just dance for myself. i’ve done that a hundred times over already. often, now, i’m dancing for the party, to loosen up the crowd and set the vibe. for the local DJ that needs to know they’re worthy even if they didn’t pack the house tonight. for my friends, to keep their energy up and make them feel safe.

i just passed two years since my first rave in Brooklyn (Black Hole’s 1-year anniversary). i remember the fear and anticipation of going out in those days — not knowing what to expect, being completely alone thirty, forty, fifty nights over. but i knew i loved the music, and i knew i wanted to be a part of these experiences. i let my ears guide me.

i still feel like a loner sometimes. i wish i were better at making conversation; i kick myself at all the missed opportunities where i can’t think of something to say and miss out on a chance to get to know an acquaintance better.

the more i learn about our community, the more i see its imperfections and injustices. but my love for this continues to grow. i feel more strongly than ever that this is where most of my energy in life is going to be spent. i love this music. i love the people. i love these environments. i’ve never felt more fulfilled and more alive than on the dance floor at sunrise.

if there’s such a thing as a calling in life, this is it.

Thank you so much for reading.

related reading:

• #29 __ sustain-release
• #25 __ movement
• #19 __ raves to remember
• #3 __ the bass party