pkern

Just Parliments, my friend...

Damn right! I can't wait! I miss PVD - he hadn't been around these parts since what - January at Twilo (moment of silence...) And poor David Seaman will be spinning in mediocre Southampton this Saturday, where I'm sure very few will even listen to his set, nevermind appreciate it...waaaahhhh!!!

1) PVD 2) David Seaman 3) Pete Tong 4) Digweed 5) Timo Maas

The first time it hit me was one night last year – I think it was some time in February. I was standing in the middle of Twilo’s dance floor, two hours deep into a set by David Seaman when the bass dropped to silence, the crowd slowed to a stop, the lights ceased flashing and then, we all looked up toward the deejay booth, waiting to see what David would do. I didn’t know anyone there, other than the one person I had gone with. Yet all night it seemed like the crowd had drawn closer and closer to me. Maybe it was the shared experience of travelling through David’s exceptionally crafted set – the journey it was taking us on - or maybe it was a camaraderie born from making it all the way to 6 a.m. with at least three more hours to go when we knew the rest of the city was readying for bed. But as close as these strangers had all felt to me, once that silence hit, and we all watched like anxious children as David’s hand release the next track, that place became a church, and I became part of an infinite collective, a beautiful congregation on the very edge of rapture. Suddenly, the silence was severed: “I had a dream…” the words rang out in that unmistakable, undeniable voice of Dr. King. In unison, we lifted our hands – to David, to the night, to the words and what they meant. “I had a dream, that one day…” and a lilting oboe ached behind his voice. “…this nation would rise up…” and a gunning snare drum lifted too “and live out the true meaning of its creed. I had a dream today.” I looked around me: to my left, a gay couple, in front, a drag queen with bangled arms outstretched. Behind, a group of Asians, to my right, a Spanish girl. “…my children will be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character…I had a dream today” And the bass returned like a heartbeat, the pulse gradually building until the room felt like a womb – warm, wet and loving – and I felt like a child again – innocent and powerful, safe and courageous. “…the words of that old Negro spiritual, free at last free at last, thank God almighty, we are free at last!” And the crescendo hit like an awakening, the snare now racing over the once-solitary oboe, we all began to jump, cheer, squealing in thanks to a God I had never intended on believing in. For in this place, this moment, this music I had found, I felt no distinction in myself, no distance between what I was and what anyone else was. For the first time, I understood - what it all meant, what David was trying to say from behind those tables: that it wasn’t about drugs – it wasn’t about partying: it was about truth and beauty and most importantly, community. It was about humility at the feet of all that is larger than us, and responsibility for all that is within our power to change. I understood why I loved this scene - that as long as there was night and music and people who flocked to both for comfort and relief, I was not alone. This is the gift. This is the dream. And then, again, on Saturday, standing beneath the painted dome of the Hammerstein Ballroom in Manhattan, listening to Spacegirl build anthems from nothing, the feeling returned. Strangers became friends, dancing became worship, a labor of meditation and triumph, and the room became an altar upon which I sacrificed every inhibition and preconception and judgement for the chance to feel free, and safe, and beautiful, and young, and just like everyone else. This is what each night out should leave us with – an awareness of being alive, vital and inextricably connected to each individual we encounter. “I had a dream…” and once and a while, on the perfect night, it becomes real. It stays with me even after the sun has come up and I’ve retreated back through the tunnel to where I came from. The night is short, and the deejay eventually leaves the deck, the speakers sink into silence and the doors close behind us. The strangers disperse, lost again into an even larger sea of anonymous faces that bear the marks of strain and weight. Let this music be a metaphor of what we can become, of how we can handle one another, of how we can live our lives and regard the world. Let this music harmonize us the way it harmonizes the most seemingly disparate elements into seamless symmetrical song. Let these magic nights blend into day, until there is no separation and even the sunlight offers shelter to us all. Peace.

True, true! Thank you for your intelligent - and articulate - response to my post. I agree that the idealism expressed in it deserves to be balanced with a good stiff dose of cynicism. Ironically, I am usually the cynic in my group so my outpouring is a rare mood...nevertheless, I think this whole "scene" needs to refocus and remember that there is something more substantial to be had than a hangover and low seratonin levels...

Amen! And those hoochies have done much to ruin it for those of us (just as beautiful) ladies who don't particularly enjoy teetering around on platforms...

I couldn't agree more! And even though the moment might be fleeting, the lesson of it can endure. I'm so glad so many people are relating to what I wrote. I was very curious about what reactions I would get. So many people are reading this thread, and so few are responding. What's up with that????

yes - he's spinning from 2-5 at Tavern in Southampton this Saturday. The cover is $30... I'm still debating...three incredible hours of David Seaman up against three hellish hours with a Hamptons crowd that I'm sure won't even be listening to him spin...not to mention an overpriced club that probably charges $30 for a bottle of water too... Still, it might be worth it...

I'm so sorry...that's just horrible. Please, please, please girls (and guys), be careful out there. Take care of yourselves and each other - know what and who you're dealing with, and just don't over do it. Moderation! Always - and caution. This is supposed to be fun, remember??? Not life-threatening. I'm certainly not advocating drug use here, but if you are going to use, go to dancesafe.org and for a donation of $20, they'll send you a test kit. It screens for certain foreign substances and is at least a precaution against SOME of the dangers. Moderation, everyone - please!

Thanks so much everyone for your awesome feedback - and for taking the time to read my rather long-ass outpouring. I'm glad you feel it too... So does anyone else have a moment they'd like to share???

The first time it hit me was one night last year – I think it was some time in February. I was standing in the middle of Twilo’s dance floor, two hours deep into a set by David Seaman when the bass dropped to silence. Even the air seemed to pause as we all looked up toward the deejay booth, waiting to see what David would do. I hadn’t known anyone there, other than the one person I had gone with. Yet all night it felt like the crowd had drawn nearer to me. Maybe it was the shared experience of travelling through David’s exceptionally crafted set – the journey it was taking us on - or maybe it was a camaraderie born from making it all the way to 6 a.m. with at least three more hours to go while the rest of the city was in bed. Outside the streets were quiet, and for the first time in hours, suddenly, so were we, slowed to a stop as the lights ceased flashing and the beat disappeared. And though all night I had felt close to these strangers – bound to them by volume and bass – in the silence, we converged and like an anxious child, raised our hopeful face to the deejay booth. The room had become a church, and I had become part of an infinite collective, a beautiful congregation on the intimate edge of rapture. Suddenly, the silence was severed: “I had a dream…” The words rang out in the unmistakable voice of Dr. King. In unison, we lifted our hands – to David, to the night, to the words and what they meant. “I had a dream, that one day…” and a lilting oboe ached behind his voice “…this nation would rise up…” and a gunning snare drum lifted too “and live out the true meaning of its creed. I had a dream.” I looked around me: to my left, a gay couple; in front, a drag queen with bangled arms outstretched; behind me, a group of Asians; to my right, a Spanish girl. “…my children will be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character…I had a dream today,” and the bass returned like a heartbeat, the pulse gradually building until the room felt like a womb – warm, wet and loving – and I felt like a child again – innocent and powerful, safe and courageous. “…the words of that old Negro spiritual, “Free at last free at last, thank God almighty, we are free at last!”” The crescendo hit like an awakening. The snare now racing over the once-solitary oboe, we all began to move, jump, cheer, squealing in thanks to a God I had never intended on believing in. For in this place, this moment, this music, I felt no distance in myself, no distinction between what I was and what anyone else was. For the first time, I understood what it all represented - what David was trying to say from behind those tables. It wasn’t about drugs or escapism, or simple hedonistic partying that serves only its own self-indulgent end: it was about hope, unity, community, and most importantly, joy. I understood why I loved this scene - that as long as there was night and music and people who flocked to both for comfort and relief, I was not alone. This is the gift. This is the dream. And then, again, on a Saturday night in August, standing beneath the painted dome of the Hammerstein, listening to Spacegirl build anthems from nothing, the feeling returned. Strangers became friends, dancing became worship, a labor of meditation and triumph, and the room became an altar upon which I sacrificed every inhibition and preconception and judgement for the chance to feel free, and safe, and beautiful, and young, and just like everyone else. This is what each night out should leave us with – an awareness of being alive, vital and inextricably connected to each individual we encounter. “I had a dream…” and once and a while, on the perfect night, it becomes real. It stays with me even after the sun has come up and I’ve retreated back through the tunnel to where I came from. The night is short, and the deejay eventually leaves the decks, the speakers sink into silence and the doors close behind us. The strangers disperse, lost again into an even larger sea of anonymous faces that bear the marks of strain and weight. Let this music be a metaphor of what we can become, of how we can handle one another, of how we can live our lives and regard the world. Let this music harmonize us the way it harmonizes the most seemingly disparate elements into seamless symmetrical song. Let these magic nights blend into day until there is no separation, and even sunlight offers refuge to us all. Peace.

Excellent advice overall. I'd just add that the decision to "experiment" is very personal and not to be rushed in to or influenced by other people's opinions on the matter. If you do decide to "experiment", just be safe, educated and smart about it. All I would add is: 1) make sure you eat a good dinner before hand, and take a vitamin 2) Definintely take 1/2 first and see how you feel in an hour. Better to err on the side of caution 3) Go with people you love and trust and STAY TOGETHER! Take care of one another. 4) Be sure to drink enough water (very important) but don't drown yourself either. 5) Go to Dancesafe.com and buy a test kit 6) don't drink any alcohol or do anything else, especially for your first time 7) go somewhere you know you like, and where you feel safe and enjoy the music. If you hate the club, you'll hate the whole experience. Just use your head - "Know thyself - all things in moderation" (Plato or Socrates, I can't remember which). Experimentation is a personal choice, and no, I don't think Ex has to be a gateway into other narcotics (it hasn't been for me). In my opinion, if you're headed toward addiction, you'll find it whether you drop or not: work, golf, sony playstation, internet messageboards... Be careful and have fun!

Thank you! Thank you! have you even been to the Wednesday night dance ritual at c-fly? I've heard it's good, but never been myself...

Hey - has anyone been on Centro Fly on thursday's for Subliminal Sessions? I'm thinking about going and would love a review. I saw Darren Emerson spin there a few months ago - outrageous set, perfectly warm and fuzzy crowd, but PACKED. Any chance Thursday's are less hectic?

Has anyone been to the Wednesday night dance ritual at Centro-Fly? If so, how was it? What's it like?