The Lobo Theater first opened on August 19, 1938, and apparently, it’s the oldest standing movie theater on Route 66 still to this day. I didn’t know that the first time I went there, though. I just knew there was a fuckin rave, and I was still in that beautiful period in my life where missing the rave was considered a major sin.
We all have that feeling at one moment, and yet, when we’re having it the last thing, we want to do is acknowledge that’s what it is. Like magic. Like a secret. Like a rave.
Being young, careless, and just naïve enough to go into the kind of random places they usually have a rave, is a feeling you can’t have back, and yet, again, you struggle to realize it while you’re in the middle of it.
It’s a wave, and you’re just riding it, hoping it doesn’t end, hoping for another moment in the sunlight. Or the warehouse. A moment to be you. Or at least to find who you’re really meant to be.
But that’s not what the Lobo was. It was something different than what ravers were used to. It was a landmark, and yet one I never thought to see the inside of, until the night we went to Jammy Jam 2 on October 20th, 2000.
I had just turned sixteen and wanted nothing more than to rave. Rave all day. Rave all night. Rave in my sleep. Rave at school. Rave in the car. Rave Rave Rave. It was my life, and I wish I could say things have changed, but still, I know, my connection made to this insanely unique culture during that moment in my life is still as strong as ever, and the Lobo represents that to me, in a way.
It wasn’t the first place I went to a rave at. Or the second. Or the third. In fact, by then we had been going to raves so often, you just stop thinking about it. You just go. You don’t even remember the name, or sometimes the place.
You just know you have to be there.
It wasn’t even about who was ever playing either. I don’t believe it ever was. I mean, there was definitely a lineup, and set times, and all that other jazz, but everybody knew that only mattered to the DJ’s so they wouldn’t miss their moment. We’d all follow a schedule, but it never had anything to do with outside influences.
The idea was always the same. You show up when you show up, and you leave when you leave. And whatever moment you have during that time frame is the moment you were meant to have.
I see so clearly, looking back, we were far more serendipitous than we wanted to admit. The Raver is an eternal optimist and believer in the existence of fate.
I also remember everybody had to dress up in relation to the name of the Rave. Granted, our time at the Lobo didn’t start that, but in a way, it was the last place I remember seeing it on a normal basis. After that everybody changed just a bit and started wanting to look smooth. The theme of the party wasn’t important anymore. At least not as important as who was actually there. Things where different after the Lobo.
The memories I have of the Lobo, and that slanted dancefloor that I hated so much, and that alley in back where we always went to smoke cigarettes, or that morning where we all hung out up front under the sign while we waited for our ride to finally get there, I will cherish forever.
We sat and felt the cool air caress our skin as the pill we took showed its overwhelming strength and euphoria. We were young and in love with the music. In love with the friendships we made. In love with the moment.
I think of all of that, and I smile at the memories, while still acknowledging there are still new moments to be had. Moments with each other. Moments with the Music. Moments with the Lobo.
On Friday April 29, 2022, Donald Glaude is playing at the Lobo, and you have no idea how great it is to say that.
Not just because it means the Lobo is open again, but also because of who’s playing there. Donald Glaude has always been one of my favorite DJs, and I can still remember when he had his bleached blonde hair, and he’d lower the music every now and then just to scream “Get your fuckin hands up.” No mic or anything, though. Just his voice reminding you, he’s there too.
Donald never played at the Lobo back then, though. He played at club 211, he played at the Sunshine Theatre, and he even played at the Prophecy, out in the Santa Fe Mountains, although we never found that one. We just spent the whole night driving in the desert looking for the rave we could hear in the distance. I suppose that’s another story, though.
I don’t think Donald screams over the music anymore, although, I also don’t think it matters. His sound is timeless. Funky but heavy and full of that west coast sound New Mexico loves so much.
Combine a talent like Donald Glaude with a proper list of New Mexico house DJs, and what you have is a chance for New Mexico to have a moment with the Lobo, maybe like I did, during that period I loved so much. But in a new way. In a proper way. The way our younger selves would’ve wanted.
Please go early, stay late, and celebrate a night at a historic and unique spot that now has a chance to make a new story. This isn’t a walk down memory lane, it’s a continuation. A reminder that the story isn’t over, and neither is the Lobo. Neither are those fun, carefree nights, where all we need are the desert sky, house music and each other. See you on the dancefloor.
Ourdancefloor.net 