A Kaskade Song

There are a few common things you can expect to happen the longer you are a part of rave culture, and yet, even if somebody told you that, you wouldn’t believe it until it happened to you. That’s the case when it comes to a Kaskade song. We all have one. No matter what era we are in, or what section of the scene we belong to, we all seem to agree on a few things, and Kaskade is one of them. Well, everybody except the Jungle Crews. I don’t think they like Kaskade too much, do they?

Or maybe they do? Maybe deep down they, like the rest of us, had one moment, where a song and that DJ, and all the things they wished would happen, finally happened. Maybe they can remember that magic and know what it really meant to find a song that would always be theirs and only theirs? I suppose we should ask them sooner or later. Cause I know that’s what happened to me.

But the craziest thing happens the longer you are a part of this culture in that history starts to repeat itself, although, when it happens again it’s not exactly the same. And that’s why Kaskade is such a perfect example of that occurrence and how it continues to happen over and over again in time. For me, at least.

For me, there are three different Kaskade songs that I have, and each one represents a different moment in time, and I suppose a different feeling. But I guess that’s how it goes for everybody and music. One song isn’t better or worse than others, it’s just simply that it means more to you than the rest. So, although these are my Kaskade songs, that doesn’t mean I think they’re better than your Kaskade song, it’s just that they happened during moments for me when I needed them to, and I hope that’s what your Kaskade song did for you.

First, ‘It’s you it’s me.’ Which was released in 2003, when I was nineteen years old and officially an adult, although I didn’t feel much like one. I was in college and feeling completely disconnected from the rave scene even though I still attended every single weekend just like everybody else.

It was the same story we all felt at one moment or another. I lost interest. I wasn’t having fun. And the drugs weren’t helping anymore. It all just became a show for me, and I felt embarrassed and ashamed that I couldn’t admit that to my friends, who were all just as in love with the Rave as ever.

And I still loved it, it’s just simply, I needed a change. So, I decided to move away. Not too far, but far enough to know I had left, and I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to be back again. It felt like I was saying goodbye. Looking back, I know it was just that I simply was young and went to college, which happens to so many of us. And I was only going to Las Cruces, just three hours away, so it wasn’t as dramatic as most youngsters leaving home, but still enough to know that when I’d return, I’d be different. And so would raving. And so would Kaskade.

But before I moved away, we had ‘It’s you It’s me.’ An amazing example of how truly good house music could make you feel. I heard it and I knew house music would get me through. And I don’t mean that metaphorically, I mean that I knew without a doubt, that house music would be all I needed. If I believed in it, and what it showed me, I could endure, and it sounds like I was in some crazy cult or something, when it was just a moment where we knew our kind was right.

We were right about House music, and peace, and love, and we’re still working on the unity and respect part, but most of all, we were right about Kaskade. Right now, he’s a mega star playing massive stages all around the world, but back then he was just some guy who played his own music and wanted us to hear. His sound and the label he belonged to, OM Records, will always be a beautiful representation of that moment for us. The moment we knew House Music was going to change the world.

My second Kaskade song is one I heard him play at EDC when I was in my twenties. I had moved back to Albuquerque after graduation and had started my life as an adult, or so I thought. I tried being a regular person, and leaving the rave life behind, but it just never worked for me. The more I tried to act normal the crazier it made me, and the crazier I got the more I longed to go back to the lifestyle where it was okay to be myself again.

Sure, it wasn’t easy for me now after the world had changed me, and yet still, there were chances to fall back in. Moments to go back over the edge and experience a life and world that normal everyday people don’t even notice is there. A second realm. A magic one. One that only belongs to those brave enough to find it. That’s how it felt the first time, and again when we decided to go back. And eventually when it finally lead us to EDC.

We weren’t the biggest fans of Insomniac as younger ravers. Massives weren’t our thing, and after a while we started to see them as the opposite of Raves. Taking our idea and making it bigger and brighter, and for profit. We resented what they did for a while. And because of that we stayed away. For a while.

But when we returned things were different. Raves had disappeared. Replaced by Club culture and Bars. Not exactly something I complained about at first, since it always guaranteed the DJ would play, and the drinks are usually pretty good. My favorite has always been Red Bull and Vodka cause it gives me energy too.

Anyways, we tried the clubs and the bars for a bit, and they were fun, but we got tired fast, and we wanted something big. We wanted a real experience. So naturally, we turned to EDC. It just made more sense for us. Why continue to force so many trips just to see one or two DJ’s when we could see a bunch at once? Why not?

So, we went. Even still acting as snobs we went, and we had no plans of seeing Kaskade. In fact, I don’t know if he was even on the lineup. That year, just like with every year, we went for the Techno, and we went for the Neon Garden.

But something happened to us that changed us so completely that we were never the same again. I suppose it was probably heat stroke from the 100+ degree weather, but either way we went up and down that speedway like two stoned kids, and we ended up wandering across the Kaliope Art Car on Monday morning, as the last DJ was preparing to do a surprise set for the sunrise.

We didn’t know it was Kaskade. We were just trying to get back to the garden, and still, there we were, front and center, and that’s when he played the second Kaskade song for me.

I can remember looking into my love’s eyes and feeling the chill of the night for that one brief instant we were allowed to have it before the sunrise. There were bubbles everywhere, and people hugging, and celebrating, and dancing, of course. And as time went on, the crowd just kept getting bigger and bigger, and the sun kept rising just a little bit more.

We knew when he was over this would mean the end of whatever that crazy weekend was for us, and we’d always have that one moment, and our own song to remember it by. I know this song represents the moment I knew things had changed for raves, and It was up to me to either get out of the way, or hop on board.

For me I decided to hop on board, and my love for Kaskade took me everywhere, including to the one place, I always wanted it to take me. Chicago. Which is where I heard my third Kaskade song.

The third Kaskade song, much like the others was a bit of a surprise. We went to Chicago with no intention of seeing Kaskade at all. We knew he was playing a festival that same weekend, but we were going to a different one. It was Labor Day weekend, and the city was alive and exploding with music at every single corner.
We were now in our thirties, married with kids. It was our first trip to Chicago, but we were ready. We had traveled all over this country, and now finally had the chance to attend a festival in Chicago, our dream destination.

We had been talking about going to Chicago our entire lives and yet never actually did it until now. Never had the reason, or the excuse, or even the drive to just do it already. Until we did. And when we did. We did. Does that make sense?

We had arrived in Chicago Thursday night even though our festival didn’t start until Saturday. We considered it a day to tour the city and be tourists. Like everybody else. Although, there’s one problem with that. We hate being tourists.

When we come to your city, we’re not there to be tourists. We’re there to fall into the city. We’re there to be a part of it. We’re there to party. So, when a friend of ours offered us tickets at a very cheap price to another festival being held in Chicago, we jumped immediately.

We’d go on Friday, and sneak this one in, see the other side of festival and rave culture, and then we’d go to our House and Techno Festival. I don’t think we even noticed who was playing until our friend was driving us to the festival, which was being held at a soccer stadium.

We recognized enough names to know we could patch them together and find a good experience in it, even though we knew it just wasn’t the crowd we were used to. There was a dirtybird stage, and it’s funny to think that no matter where we go, we always end up partying with those Dirtybirds. There was also a Wakaan stage, where we were given the chance to see Liquid Stranger, a DJ, we knew of, but also knew we’d never go to see unless at a festival. Which was exactly what was happening now.

So we went, and we had fun, and we ate this chicken that we thought was gonna be great, but we ended up hating, and then we went and danced, and listened to music we knew we’d never hear again. And then, we climbed the steps to the stadium and entered just as Louis the Child was finishing and the crowd was getting ready for Kaskade.

If you had told me when I was a teenager that I was going to see Kaskade in Chicago, I would’ve probably freaked out, but that’s kind of how that weekend went for us. After that night we’d see legends like Derrick Carter, DJ Heather, Gene Ferris, and my favorite of the weekend, DJ Pierre. It was a weekend filled with Chicago love, and It’s still amazing to think that for my love and I, it started with seeing Kaskade. Finally seeing him as a headliner. At a festival. On a big stage. Surrounded by strangers. It even started raining a little bit.

Can you believe that? Kaskade in Chicago? In the rain? It’s still crazy to think now, but that’s the point. We all have these moments, and it’s not just Kaskade that gives us that. It’s all of House music, and all of rave culture for that matter. It has given us so much, it has helped us endure, it has taken us to places we never thought possible, and in return we owe it the honor of remembering it.

The third Kaskade song is a bit of a cheesy one, and a mash up, but so am I. So are all of us. We’re all some cheesy, emotional, complicated, mix up of everything we’ve seen and done and felt, and music is a reflection of that journey. Hearing this song playing loud was nothing compared to hearing all the hundreds of people in the crowd with me, singing along, just like I was.

It wasn’t about being cool, or proud, or even happy. It was about having that one moment together where we could all celebrate and agree that this music really does mean that much to us. It did save us. It will continue to carry us on.
Then the fireworks went off, and we hugged, and the music ended, and everybody slowly filed out the stadium and into the parking lot where they’d continue to their lives. All different. All just as important and unique.

And as we sat in our friend’s car, watching everybody go, I continued to sing the third Kaskade song; the one I knew was the one meant to complete the circle. I was allowed this moment, and in return I had the music and my friends to thank. The music got me there and my friends are what I found.

So, again, I don’t expect these songs to be your songs, but they don’t have to be. This wasn’t about the best Kaskade song, but rather the one that meant the most to me. If you have one, please hold it close and remember that moment, but most of all, remember the people you were there with. Remember what it took to get there.

That way you’ll remember they way when it’s time to go back.

See you on the dancefloor.