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I’ve spoken many times about the Loft, and at other subtle moments, I’ve even tried to include it in my writing, but never before today, have I chosen to write on it so directly, and I wish I had a reason why.

I suppose it’s like many things and even people in our culture, rave culture, these days. If we don’t make a point to stop and remember them we may forget what it meant to that moment and that time.

Although, as the winds pick up, and the Icey chill of the New Mexico Desert winter is upon us again, I can’t help but recall the time when such a place, and such a moment could exist. And how it all changed my life.

The first time I went to the Loft I must have been around fifteen years old, and a sophomore at West Mesa High School. It wasn’t much of a place, still isn’t.

Designed like a prison, the school revolved around one center courtyard where all the students had to be shoved in one area together during our break times in the yard. It was strange being so young and yet seeing so many different types of people.

That’s actually the place I saw Ravers for the first time. The same people who would eventually take me in and adopt me as one of their own, taking me to my first rave, where I took my first hit of acid, and I heard electronic music in a warehouse for the first time. It was, not to repeat myself, life changing.

But after that first rave, something happened that I did not expect at first. I wanted to go again. And not just go to the rave and get fucked up, but rather it was more than that. I wanted to be a part of it.

I wanted to commit to it like I never committed to school, or baseball, or even the two and a half girlfriends I had up to that point.

That’s what led me to the Loft. Not drugs, or partying, or even the music yet. It was just simply wanting to find where I belong.

If you have not heard of the Loft before, it was this little record shop on Nob Hill that was open for I just don’t know how long, and it’s entrance was a single glass door that sat right next to the Buffalo Exchange, a place I had gone too quite a few times before ever realizing there was a record shop right above it.

You could hear the music floating down sometimes, though, it’s just you wouldn’t think much of it when you were young. Just another secret of being a grown up that I’ll learn in due time, eventually. But what happens when eventually arrives?

I can remember the first day my friends took me to the Loft. It was a tradition and process we’d do many many times after that and it always seemed to have the same repetition.

Start by meeting up at somebody’s house, go to a park to smoke some weed, maybe Pregnant Park or even Roosevelt, depending on which was closer, then head down to nob hill to just cruise and enjoy everything.

It was a cool time in our lives. Birdland, Angel Alley, Astrozombies, Buffalo Exchange, and of course the Loft; which I don’t think had a sign outside, although I’m not sure If I’m remembering it right on this one. Do you?

As soon as you opened the door it’s like the beat would drop just for you. All you saw were stairs at first, but you could just sense that up around that corner was something amazing, and with each step you climbed closer to whatever that magic was.

I can still remember exactly how it felt all these years later, and I’ll even admit it makes the hair stand up on my arms just a little bit. Still, it means so much to me.

When you finally got to the top and turned the corner, it’s as if you just couldn’t believe what you saw next.

It was like discovering a new Universe.

Shelves and shelves of records, just sitting there, in order and organized, waiting to be searched through, and analyzed, and most of all, played.

There were windows all over the studio that overlooked Central below from the second floor it fit into so comfortably.

At the end of the shelves towards the back were some turntables with headphones for you to give a simple listen to all of the records now sitting in front of and around you.

I think there were also some couches too, but I can’t seem to remember that part. Then across from that, spanning across the back wall was a counter where the employees always stood, shuffling through records and discussing so much.

The employees were probably the biggest part of what made the Loft the Loft, though, because of the simple fact that every single of them seemed to be a local DJ from the city.

All ones we knew and recognized very well. So we’d literally go to the rave every weekend and dance to them DJ’ing, and then we’d go and buy records from them all throughout the week.

It was a strange occurrence in the moment, but not completely one I realized until years later now that it’s gone.

What the Loft eventually became was a CenterPoint for what was slowly and quietly becoming its own culture.

And I’m not saying the Loft was the only spot, or even the first, or the last, I’m just saying, when I became a raver, that’s the place I’d go to find out about the next one, and the next one, and the one after that.

Or maybe if I heard a dope track at the rave this weekend, I’d probably find it at The Loft, cause like I said, that’s where the DJ’s were.

So after a while it just became something more than just a record store. It became a place we could go in the sunlight, just like the rave was somewhere to go in the night.

In fact one of my favorite memories from that era involves the Loft.

It was after a night at the Lobo, which was just a couple doors down, and it was during a time when they had a little stretch of raves there for a bit.

And there was this DJ that ended one of the nights playing a great remix of ‘All I Do’ by the Cleptomaniacs, which was originally a Stevie Wonder song, I believe.

Such a wonderful melody to be played as the lights came on and we danced in that old Movie theatre as young foolish teenagers unaware of the adults we’d eventually become.

All we had was that, and I suppose it was enough to get us through, because it did.

But anyways, what I found so wonderful about this moment was the very fact that the very next time I went to the Loft they had that record available for sale to anybody willing to pick it.

I can remember I sat there and listened to that track over and over until the sun started to fall, and I finally had to admit I didn’t have the money to buy it yet. But I knew I’d be back.

Although, when I finally did return, it was gone, never to be seen again. And I guess I coulda ordered it online, or found it on the road sometime, but that wouldn’t have been the same as buying it at the Loft, the way I wanted.

I eventually did start buying records, although, never that one. Even before I had a turntable, I bought records from those DJ’s at the Loft. Records still to this day, I have in my case by my bed.

With my first two purchases being tracks by Derrick Carter and Eddie Amador. Two DJ’s I’d eventually see blocks away from that very spot one day real soon.

I didn’t know that then, though. I don’t even think I knew who those DJ’s were. I was so young and naive. I just knew I had to have those tracks. And I knew my record collection had to start sooner or later.

There are many tracks I got from the Loft, and many I never had the chance to buy, but the point isn’t even about the music, in the end. Maybe it’s about something more than that.

Maybe it’s about having a place where we know we can always find each other. Where we can buy the next ticket to the next experience that’ll bring us closer to who we really want to be.

I guess we can’t have that anymore, with the new digital world we now belong to.

The record shops and ticket hubs are now online and in person interaction has become obsolete. What else can we do but adapt?

Although, the reason why I started writing about the Loft today was because of a conversation I had with my wife, who at the time we first went to the Loft together was only my girlfriend.

She brought it up maybe a week ago and I can’t remember why, but I can remember so clearly what she said.

“I remember you taking me to the Loft. You’d ride the bus to my house and then we’d smoke and ride it to nob hill together. Then we’d listen to records and chill.”

She made it sound so cool and natural. Like our lives were so much hipper than perhaps we knew at the time.

While the rest of the world obsessed over money, and power and one day even fame. Our commitment, even then was towards something I still struggle to explain.

The moment we knew we were a part of so much more, and whatever that was, we knew it was enough to save us. An idea and movement I know we all still belong to now.

So with that I wish to say thank you to the Loft, for the music, and that presale I bought from you for my first outdoor rave that would, again, change my life.

Thank you for helping me dream that dream that teens often need to help them get through the sorrows of this life.

I had somewhere to go. If only for a bit, and I think that’s all we need sometimes. Most times.

Come find me in the record shop one day. But not at the Loft. Although, I know it’s still there. Don’t you?

In order to fully explain to you what the words of J.Cole meant to me in the year 2022, I feel I must admit to you now a huge detail about the two years that preceded it, 2020 and 2021.

First, for the entire year of 2021 I spent nearly all of my time on the road.

Granted, I have always been a road dog, I can’t deny that one. A self-labeled Gypsy of the American highway, I’ve always felt more at home out in the unknown, than I ever will here back in Albuquerque, and I suppose nothing will ever change that.

But looking back, 2021 was so much different than before the quarantine. I was traveling and seeing things at a quickened pace. Like I was running out of time. But I know now, it was something more than that.

Which can be explained by how I handled the year 2020.

I came out of the quarantine in 2020 for various reasons in a complete and absolute depression. Not the first time in my life, but still one of the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced.

I was hopeless, afraid, sad, consumed by pressure and responsibility, and completely unwilling to even face my own feelings. I was a mess.

I suppose I still am. I don’t think we grow out of that one. And every time it happens I am eventually aware of the severity of it, but only years later, as I try to recover. Which is what I’m at the start of doing now.

The traveling helped, and I did finally pull myself out of it, but so did something else. Lost out on the highway, consumed by my own sorrow and failure, I found the words of J.Cole.

And with those words I found my way forward. But only after a while.

I can still remember the first time I actually stopped and heard him, and it wasn’t like with Kendrick, where I’ve been a fan since the jump, or even say with Mac Miller, where a friend stopped and showed me his music, but rather the opposite.

I’ve known about J. Cole, and I’ve been aware of his reputation as a rhymer, but I was also never in a rush. I told myself, I’ll get to him when I’m ready to get to him.

In 2022 I was finally ready.

It started with a feature on another rapper’s song, ‘A lot’, by 21 Savage. His different perspective on life was immediate from his very first words.
He is different.

Whereas most rapper’s are here for clout, or fame or even money, he is clearly here for the substance, and the knowledge expressed through his art.

Very much in the same style as say Erik B and Rakim, KRS-ONE, or even A Tribe Called Quest, he is an intellectual as much as he is a representation of the street he came from.

There is a higher purpose and goal at hand, though, and yet, not from a confrontational or erratic perspective.

He wants success for others even if he does not agree with the process they take to get there.

‘I never said anything
Everybody has their own thing.’

The song itself is an expression on how a man can have both A Lot of success and A Lot of failure and some day he may come to a point where there is no telling the difference between one or the other.

A life is lived whether for good or bad, and as it carries forward all we can do is carry forward with it. J Cole is as aware of that fact as anybody, and I suppose I am now too.

From there I heard the next song, ‘Middle Child’, and this, on the surface, appears to be an upbeat track meant to bop when you’re out getting fucked up in the club, but that’s part of what J.Cole is playing off of.

I suppose most rappers would just be satisfied with making the club go crazy, but he uses this to speak on things you don’t hear most poets speaking of these days. Especially when it comes to money.

“I hope that you scrape every dollar you can
I hope you know that money won’t erase the pain.”

Similar to the previous song he wants success for others, but he also understands the price that comes with it.

And not every price you pay is in gold.

We all achieve things in this life, and yet often times, once we get there we can only think of the things and even people we had to lose along the way.

It’s a heartbreaking truth we all learn as we get older, both with success, friendship, and even love.

Would we all want to go back and cherish what we had just a little bit more, or can we accept that we left it in the past for a reason? I still have no answer for that one.

From there comes perhaps his strongest track, ‘No Role Modelz’, which by all standards is a musical masterpiece. The way it starts.

“First things first,
Rest in Peace Uncle Phil,
For real.
You’re the only father figure that I ever knew,
Get my bitch pregnant so I could be a better you.”

When I was about a 13 or 14, the Fresh Prince of Bel Air was huge, and Uncle Phil was a major part of that. He was big and strong, but also smart and kind. A proud head of the family, and true representation of a Role Model.

At the time I didn’t have the father figure that Uncle Phil was. I mean, I had a father, but he was too consumed by his alcoholism and insanity to ever notice the son he left to grow up alone.

By the time I was sixteen I was homeless, and he was remarried with a new family. Now, over twenty years later very few words have been spoken between him and I, and I don’t feel I may ever see him again.

He failed me at a point when I was not yet a man, and he was so completely aware of that failure, that all he can do now is cower in a way Uncle Phil never would.

I did not think about it until now, but I spent many years wondering the same thing. What would I have been If I had a role model? If I had somebody to believe in, and maybe if I was lucky, to believe in me too?

So long I spent on the run. Chasing the success and acceptance my father would never give me, and now I find myself a father of my own, to a son who is reaching the same age I was when Uncle Phil was in my life.

How can I live with that pain and still be strong enough to power forward? How can I want success for others while struggling so much for my own? Do any of us have that answer?

At least I’m glad J. Cole is asking those questions too.

And finally, I come to this song called ‘Apparently’, perhaps my favorite J.Cole song to date. The hope in his words, and yet still so aware of that struggle and sacrifice made to get here.

If 2020 was my year of depression, and 2021 was the year I ran from it, then 2022 was finally the year it caught up to me, after all this time always being one step ahead.

And those who live with depression know, you don’t just get cured one day. You can’t wake up and say it’s gone, because even if you think it’s gone, it may come back without you knowing, and you may not be ready this next time.

We have seen too many of those we love fail at this never-ending struggle, one J.Cole helped me understand.

“There is no right or wrong
Only a Song
I like to write alone
Be in my zone
Think back to Forrest Hills,
No perfect Home.”

I spent a long time trying to come to terms with my own rights and wrongs. The people I’ve let down, the people who have let me down in return. Circles and circles of madness of what could have been, and yet always back to where I am now.

Still trying to hang on, and learn, and be something better. Trying to make some sense and even a bit of success as well, to show it was all for something. And even if I fall again, I have come to understand that losing doesn’t always mean you failed. It just means you have to keep trying.

In 2022, J.Cole, and life forced me to face more than I wanted, and yet, as I sit so squarely In 2023 all I can say is thank you for the lesson.

It hurt, but at least I know it’s real.

I’m ready for the next one.

It’s going to take me a minute to fully remember what my life was like back in 2009, but I suppose that’s the way it goes.

You just keep living, and moving, and searching for that ultimate goal, and then one day, you either get to it, or you don’t.

I guess that’s also a great way of describing how people feel about Mac Miller, now that I think about it.

You either love his music or you don’t. I don’t think there’s a middle ground.

I didn’t really listen to Mac back then. In fact I hardly knew who the dude was, but then again things were very different.

I was still in college and a new father at 25 years old; it very much felt like the moment where I had to do something. Finally.

The first years of my twenties were spent hidden away in a small college town trying to recover from how traumatic and insane my adolescence really was, and if I’m being up front, all the madness wasn’t just about the rave, although that was there too.

The one good thing, I can say about that period, though, looking back, is the simple truth that during that time away, I really took it easy on myself, which is something I don’t think Mac can say, though, can he?

With Mac it feels like he was always struggling and I guess that’s why I identify with him so much now that I’m older. As hard as we want to pretend we have our shit together, most times than not, we just don’t.

The Rave is a good example of that.

Raves were going through a lot back then too, in a much different way than they are now. To be a raver meant to be considered a drugged up criminal, and not just with the authority but also with family and friends.

You see one news report and you’ve seen them all, and back then everybody watched the news. Which is part of why we walked away. We just stopped.

Drama at the show. Creepy Local DJ’s. Crews fighting for their spots. It’s the kind of thing that never changes, and yet one day you wake up and say you’ve had enough. And as much as I loved the rave, I had reached my limit, and was done.

And that was way before 2009.

Over a decade before I decided to hit the road and become the person I am now, I still just had a dream, but I suppose that’s enough, most of the time. All of the time.

And that’s why I bring Mac up again tonight.

As the fog settles and you can feel the condensation in the air, I realize what made Mac so special was that he didn’t hide the pain he experienced, he embraced it. Something I’m learning to do every day.

We have to live first, though. And struggle, and try, and fail, and give it another shot, but not at everything. With some things you learn the first time not to open that door again.

As he said, ‘It ain’t 2009 no more.’

And I’m not sure If I’d want it to be 2009 again. The road from being a young man to being an old one isn’t easy, and it’s hard to say it was always fun, although, it comforts me to know somebody else was struggling all the same.

In 2009 Mac was still a nobody, but so was I. I may die a nobody, and still I feel the need to write these words. But why?

Because one day, Our day, is gonna come, just like it did for Mac, and so many people before him. And I’m not trying to glorify how he died, or even how he lived, because he would’ve been the first to say that he failed, but that’s the point.

We all lose.

Art itself is the literal manifestation of our expressions. It’s our way of stating how this moment affected us, and it’s a way of making that feeling last long after we are gone. Which is what is happening for Mac now.

His art and his music are only growing.

As each day goes by his words ring more and more true, and they come with a bit of heartbreak from the way they are applied to our own lives.

He saw something before the rest of us, and he wanted to leave us a note for when we finally got there. For when we finally were ready to hear all the things he wanted to say.

I only wish I could’ve heard all the music Mac was still due to make, which is the true tragedy of this story. He still wasn’t done. Still a work in progress. Still undecided on where to go next.

Always changing, and growing, and evolving, even with the struggles and the pain and the sorrow. Isn’t that all of us, though?

Isn’t that the secret? None of us are perfect, or clean, or free of failure.

There’s always somebody in the world we’re afraid to look in the eye. Mac wasn’t wrong for his sorrow, he was simply one of us.

Through what I’ve learned, the very last song Mac Miller played live was ‘2009’, from his album that was released just before his death. The final performance and the final song coming just a month before the morning he was found dead in his home.

Such optimism in his words of encouragement, acceptance and understanding. Such hope for a future that he had no way of knowing he’d never have.

In 2018 Mac Miller died, and by then I was a very different person from 2009, but then again so was he. These words weren’t some way of saying, I figured it out, or that you should go to this show. It’s my way of keeping Mac Miller alive in my own little way.

It’s my way of saying thank you to Mac. Thanks for being on the same road I was, even though neither of us knew it.

Thanks for reminding me today, and every day, that there’s still more art to be made, even if it’s never going to be with you.

* the pictures in this piece are not my own and I claim no ownership. They are simply used for artistic reasons. They are murals from different cities dedicated to Mac Miller.

There was once this place on San Francisco Street, named the Skylight, that is still possibly one of the best clubs I’ve ever been to.

Right place, right time, right music, right DJ’s, the right chance to see them the way I wanted. Just felt right.

We were a bit towards the beginning of our traveling years where we’d spend the majority of a decade seeing everything and everywhere we could.

I’ve seen some amazing things. But still, even with saying that, I know the trip I always seem to enjoy the most, is the one I always take up north. To Santa Fe. Which is where Skylight was located.

The Club was on the Plaza, and very much like the Plaza, it had layers to it. Like a story. The more you visited it, the more you walked around it, the more you studied it, the more you found its secrets, and the more you loved the place just a little bit. . . more.

It was two stories and it had a high roof that would allow the Moon to shine down on the dancefloor at the bottom, with the second floor wrapping around with tables and chairs allowing for a perfect view of both the DJ, and everything around them.

The layout and design of it were outstanding, which allowed for amazing sound that carried all throughout the expanding club.

My favorite detail was always the fact that when you went outside to get fresh air they’d have a speaker set up so you could still hear the music, allowing everybody everywhere to be following the same groove all night long.

I think realistically I may have personally only been to the Skylight four times, and they were all in a one year stretch that included four of the best DJ’s in the world, in a setting I always dreamt of seeing them in.

Intimate, aware, powerful, deep.

That’s probably how I’d describe that stretch. I was in my second prime, and I could feel the DJ’s catching the same rhythm as well. They knew the road just like I did. In fact, these four DJ’s were a huge reason why I started out on the highway in the first place.

The first time I went was for Dave Seaman, who I had been a fan of for nearly a decade and a half by the time I finally got to see him live for the first time. Something I couldn’t believe had taken so long.

I had tried to see him in multiple cities at different stages of my life, and still never got the chance until he finally came to us, with this one night still being the one and only time I’ve seen him to this day.

Dave Seaman belongs to what I like to call, the Global Underground generation.

If you don’t know what Global Underground is, it’s a CD mix series that follows DJ’s around the world, and gives the person at home a chance not just to hear how those outrageous nights went, but also to see them.

The CD booklet would be filled with pictures and stories from the road of how crazy things really got, and the CDs were filled with music you couldn’t hear anywhere else.

The words I read in those pages inspired me to go have some Global Underground moments of my own, and still to this day, Dave Seaman has among the most releases of any DJ.

Seeing him that night felt like I was completing a journey that didn’t just start with getting in the car.

It felt like a journey I started the minute I heard his first track from his first global underground years ago as a lonely teenager who was just discovering the rave and the culture it belonged to.

It was his Melbourne mix I heard first, I think.

The night itself, was a bit of a blur. The lights, the sound system, and the dancefloor, were all exactly how you’d want them to be for DJ’s like these.

Dark enough to get lost, but lit enough to know this isn’t a dream. That first night, I can remember so clearly, Dave playing as one of his final tracks, a song many of us know so well from those desert nights we spent during our rebellious days of adolescence, lost amongst the stars.

‘Little Fluffy Clouds’ by the Orb echoed out into the night and just like that, he captured what it meant to be one with both the DJ and the dancefloor.

Deep in the heart of a plaza that stood for hundreds of years a DJ from the other side of the world played a song he heard so long ago about Our side of the world, and he played It for us.

The connection was deep, the emotion was high, and we were left only to wander the night with stars in our eyes and a subtle reminder that this life is absolutely worth it.

Skylight felt like a dream.

After that we returned a few months later to see a DJ that I never thought would come to New Mexico, and still looking back, it’s kind of crazy they pulled it off. If only just once.

Another part of the Global Underground generation, and still a world traveling master DJ, the next to play Skylight was the one and only Nick Warren, who has been perhaps one of my personal favorites for nearly twenty years.

Nick, like Dave Seaman, released multiple Global Underground compilations, and he is still known as a true master of his craft.

I have traveled all around this country just to see Nick Warren, and still, it never felt quite like it did that night at the Skylight.

I liked that it was dark and moody, but intimate, with the mood of the night starting with Nick just hanging out in the back, having a drink, enjoying the moment.

I try to tell my friends in other cities that DJ’s like New Mexico because they’re just a part of it here. They’re not superstars, they’re just lovers of music again, and we want them to know that. We want them to know they can come get lost too. But only if they want to.

From there he went on and just like with Dave it was kind of just a blur you will always remember, but can never explain. It was beautiful, and groovy, and amazingly subtle.

He wasn’t just dropping a beat or playing a song; he was painting a picture, and using the movements of the crowd as much as he was using the music. Again, we were all one.

By the end of the night I can still remember the head of security dancing along next to Nick as he smiled back at her with joy. I’d later find her name was Taz, and she was such a wonderful part of those nights. Making us all feel safe but welcomed.

Even making a world famous Dj feel connected to the Skylight.

The night ended with him playing a sample from Bladerunner, one of my favorite movies, and a huge reason why electronic music became such a huge part of my life.

The words rang true as we exited the club, and out onto the street, where on that night, as the clock struck two, and the bell from the church rang twice, a thick fog carried down from the mountains and out into the street.

A fog so thick you could only see the person by your side. San Francisco had come to Santa Fe, and all we could do was remember the words.

“I’ve seen things. . .”

After that was something special. A secret date with a DJ we love so much, Danny Howells, who also released a few Global Undergrounds of his own.

For Danny it was different, though. It was in the back, I forget what they called that little room. Maybe the Skylab? I’m not sure.

It was small and only lit by neon lights behind him and out onto the middle of the dancefloor. I suppose you could fit maybe 50 people if you had to.

He was playing a secret show just to try some stuff out and to play for a bit without the madness of the bigger crowds or the flashing lights. Just him, us, and the music.

As I’ve said many times before, Will we ever need anything more?

The first time I discovered Danny Howells was not in Global Underground, but rather as part of a common thing that used to happen back when I was a teenager.

The magazines we’d buy would also come with mix Cd’s from DJ’s they’d hire for the month. A sort of resident for the magazine that you’d get as a way of continuing the connection between words and music.

It was such a strange time and yet one where you’d pay $8 to be introduced to someone playing crazy music on the other side of the world that you’d spend your entire life trying to find, only to one day discover, that the music would come to you.

That was Danny Howells to me.

Still to this day, I have no idea how I ended up being cool enough to get into that little room listening to this DJ I loved so much in such a unique way. In a way the world would never know happened.

A moment just for us.

The final time I went to Skylight and the DJ I saw that night, are actually the reason I’m writing this today.

Jody Wisternoff, the second half of the amazing group Way Out West, that he started with the previously mentioned Nick Warren, would be the last DJ I’d ever see at that exact club because just a while after that last night, the club closed its doors for good.

Causing that final moment on the dancefloor to matter just a little bit more than I originally believed it to be when it happened. But what a moment it was.

After playing for around three hours Jody himself came down from the decks to dance with the people in the crowd, celebrating and enjoying the night in a way only Santa Fe knows how.

What was it about that place that brought such emotion and joy out of these four world traveling DJ’s? Why are we the only ones who know it happened? Will we ever have that feeling again? Do we even want to?

I suppose that’s the beauty of the most amazing moments in our lives. They sometimes leave us with more questions than answers and yet all we can do is smile and be grateful they happened.

I’m sad I’ll never get to take that drive again, and I’m sad I’ll never get back to that dancefloor, but then again, I don’t have to.

The beat carries on. The DJ’s keep going so we should too. On December 3rd, 2022 Jody Wisternoff makes his return to New Mexico, but this time to the Electric Playhouse here in Albuquerque.

I’m not saying it’s going to be like the Skylight, but that’s because it doesn’t have to be. That was my moment. My story. My prime. Now it’s time for others to have theirs.

You’ve got to be willing to go get your story before it ever happens. But I promise you, when you finally do get to it, you’ll be glad you’re the one allowed to tell it.

So go, dance, be happy, and enjoy this music that carries us everywhere. Acknowledge the DJ’s who inspired you, and remember the moments you’ll never have back.

Thanks to those four DJ’s, and to Santa Fe, but most of all, thanks to the Skylight. Thanks for being real, and better than a dream, but most of all, always worth that drive. And as I say often about the city up north.

It’s all downhill from there.

Come find me on the dancefloor sometime.

Maybe the Skylight again, but only in my dreams.

It’s an odd relationship, the one between the Techno Crowd and the Dirtybirds. We always end up in the same places at the same time, and yet we never want to admit it. Techno heads act like we’re a little too cool sometimes, like the snobs we are, and Dirtybirds act like they don’t wanna wear black, even though they know they do.

Yet, even with saying that, there can never be any denying that some of the best nights of our lives have been had with the Dirtybird crowd, and I sincerely hope they feel the same about us.

We are two sides to the same dancefloor. Dirtybirds on the left and Techno fam on the right. Or maybe the other way around?

In fact, I’m sure if you really questioned the most hardcore of Techno Lovers, they’d probably have to admit they had at least a little period where they loved Dirtybird. Even for just a bit. That is if they still don’t love them now. Like I do.

I don’t feel I can ever let the Dirtybirds go, and I suppose I’m okay with that.

I have had some amazing moments surrounded by the music of the Dirtybird players, and I’m forever grateful not just for the fun times I had, but also for the people I met through those times.

I could probably go on and on about the wild moments had between I, New Mexico and Dirtybird, and still I am happy to know there still may be more to come. Starting with this next weekend.

First, with a show I’d like to talk about taking place on Saturday November 19th at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, as the creator of Sloth Acid Sacha Robotti will be playing for one night only.

Meow Wolf is perhaps one of the most magical places in the world, and Sacha follows a long list of amazing Dj’s that have brought their music to that dancefloor.

I have personally only seen Sacha Robotti once in my life, and it was the first time I went to Chicago, a story I feel helps support my belief that techno heads and Dirtybirds just find each other.

We were going to a House and Techno Festival at Union Park on Saturday and Sunday, but found ourselves with tickets to Friday night of another festival on the other side of the city that showcased a different side to electronic music.

We were definitely a bit out of our element both with the lineup and the style, and if I’m being honest I felt a little old, but there were enough acts on there to be interested, and we had nothing better to do, so why not?

Plus, there was one stage on the lineup we knew we could count on. Friday night, had Dirtybird. It was a great lineup too.

Claude Von Stroke, Nala, VNSSA b2b J.Worra, and of course Sacha himself, who I believe was playing right when we got there. A major moment for any festival experience, especially for us and our first time in Chicago.

It felt poetic in a way. All these years we had dreamt of going to Chicago, seeing the birthplace of House Music, hearing the sound they made, and then finding ourselves starting the weekend just like we spent so many weekends in New Mexico.

Dancing with the Dirtybirds, having the most wonderful time.

And sure, we’d go on to the other festival and we’d have our House and Techno weekend, but only after we had our fun with the Dirtybirds. Our fam. No matter where we are.

The same way it went the first time we went to Detroit, the same way we’ve spent so many nights here at home, and the same way you’ll get the chance to do it yourself with Sacha bringing a piece of that energy with his own hybrid, unique, bassy sound, that bounces between house and techno so effortlessly that all you can do is call it something original all on its own.

That’s Slothacid, and that’s what you’ll get this upcoming Saturday as Sacha plays alongside two DJ’s I know will help create the vibe right for the night.

First, with Joey Fettucinni, someone who not only shows his ability with every chance he gets to play, but also a person who is supportive, and understanding as well. Not something you normally say when promoting a show, but also something I’ve experienced firsthand when interacting with Fettucinni.

After that is Davy Jones, who I first I met when we were both still working at a call center together, where we’d talk about our dreams, and the hope of one day living them like we are now.

I can remember how committed Davy was to this idea even then, and I’m very proud to see how far he has come, not just in following his dreams, but also in how he attempts to support the dreams of others.

I’m happy for both Dj’s playing alongside Mr. Robotti as it will be a wonderful and full night of quality music in the way only the Dirtybirds and Meow Wolf know how.

Link to Event Page

But if you can’t wait for this one, don’t worry, because in Albuquerque the night before, on Friday, November 18th, We House Fridays, and Mr. Afterhours Presents is bringing the one and only Mz. Worthy to the effex rooftop to continue a string of shows that are unheard of in a place like New Mexico.

Mz. Worthy, I’ll admit to you now, gave me one of the best moments I’ve ever had on a dancefloor, and it happened strangely enough, on my birthday.

I’m not always a huge birthday guy, and I hardly ever celebrate my birthday the way others do.

In fact, I’ll even go as far as saying I’m kind of a grouch when it comes to my birthday, and my wife will tell you all about it.

But then there are times in your life where you just have to ignore all the stuff you learned and were told and you have to follow your heart, and that’s how I ended up in a warehouse on the night of my birthday ready to see the legendary electronic act known as Rabbit in the Moon.

If you don’t know who Rabbit in the Moon is, look them up, and if you do, you know this was one of those things you don’t pass up, regardless of date or time, and yet somehow the universe gave me this as a birthday present.

It’s still kind of crazy to think of now, especially because of how amazing it really was.

The show Rabbit in the Moon put on exceeded all expectations and the night proved to be a part of a bigger story I’m still living.

But as I look back, I try to think, what was the moment that kicked the night off with its epicness? When did it all start to become a blur? Who is responsible for that?

And on that first night, just like now, years later, I know without thinking twice, the moment it happened.

It was just before Rabbit in the Moon came on. We were on the dancefloor somewhere hidden amongst the crowd, and there were decorations everywhere, and these giant rabbit in the moon totems scattered throughout the small sea of people, which is not the norm for a warehouse, but it gave a feeling that night that something big was building and everything around you supported that.

And then this moment happened, where it got dark, and silent, and the warehouse was filled to the max with both anticipation and actual people.

And in that moment the DJ dropped the sickest Drum and Bass track I may have ever heard. It just dropped. Out of nowhere. Like, it was one thing, and then another. And as this new thing, the music was destroying the dancefloor.

In one instant the entire crowd jumped and cheered in unison and joy, as the music felt so fucking good. It was just real, and honest, and right. Bumping this drum and bass in a warehouse in the middle of the night right before Rabbit in the Moon went on. It just felt like we went into a time machine. It makes me feel the way I always feel in Denver.

Denver makes me feel like I’m back in 99’.

I couldn’t believe how good that felt, and yet when it was all over, that’s the one moment that perhaps stood out the most. The moment we let go. The moment it went off the deep end. The moment we went back in time.

I’ll be forever grateful to Mz. Worthy for giving me that moment, because I suppose looking back it was about more than just music. It was about believing in something, and going and getting it, and following your heart. Being who you truly are.

What I am is a crazy little techno panda who would go anywhere at any time for the right fuckin beat, and that night with Mz. Worthy on that dancefloor, was amongst the best I’ve ever had, and I am so grateful that she is coming to Albuquerque to share that magic with the people I know here.

She taught me to follow my true self just by following the music, and I’m so happy that Mz. Worthy will be showing her true self here on Friday, November 18th, on the effex rooftop under the stars.

Playing alongside Mz. Worthy are two of my absolute favorite Dj’s in New Mexico, not just for their skills and versatility, but also for their commitment to the music and what it stands for.

First is a DJ I feel is meant to take over for years to come in New Mexico, with femme.antics. Both as a DJ and as a promoter.

What I like about femme.antics is her ability to play any style, while still staying connected to her own vibe. I believe she’s playing house for this one, but also don’t underestimate her present and future as a proper Drum and Bass DJ.

Second, is the one and only Badcat, who is not just a first class Vibe Engineer, but also a true advocate for our entire culture. When Badcat plays it’s as If she’s playing for something more, and I suppose I feel that because I do the same.

With every word I write and every moment I have, I know it belongs and comes from so much more than just myself, and what I like so much about Badcat as a DJ is that she respects that balance. She wants you to feel something as well as learn it. I cherish that so much.

Link to Event Page

So, in closing, this upcoming weekend is special not just because of the music being played, but also because of the moments had with the people making the music. We zone in on the culture so much sometimes that we don’t stop to notice all the other people that are a part of it. The ones living it everyday, trying to make it better, trying to be better. Trying to help us catch that beat.

As always, for both shows, go early, stay late, support this culture and the beauty in its future.

Come find me on the dancefloor.

I have a pretty good idea of where I’ll be.

Getting crazy with the Dirtybirds.

As usual.

I don’t believe I ever met Wake Self, but as I’ve said in the past, when you live in a place like New Mexico, you just kind of see each other around all the time.

In fact, as I get older I realize it’s so much deeper than that. We grow up, we change, we fail, we succeed, and most of all, we live together. Apart of each other’s lives both through the good and the bad; even if we don’t even notice it.

That’s just how this goes.

I honestly never thought much of that fact, or all the times I saw Wake Self around, until the morning I woke up and heard the news he was killed by a drunk driver on November 5, 2019.

It’s a day and a feeling I’ll never forget, although, again I never knew him personally, no matter how many mutual friends we appeared to have, or how many times we ended up in the same place.

He was a hip hop head and I was a raver, which to the outside world seemed nothing alike, but to anybody belonging to one crowd or the other, you know they will both always go together.

You’ll even find many ravers started down this path by first connecting to hip hop and the lifestyle surrounding it. A connection we never let go. Myself included.

Hip hop spoke to many of us when nothing else did. It still does. It’s the voice of a living breathing, thriving, always evolving culture.

But I suppose I could say that for House Music as well. Which is why a person like Wake Self was so well known and respected on our side of the musical aisle.

And how could you not know who Wake Self was? He was intelligent, passionate, immensely talented, unique, and most of all, committed to New Mexico, which is something I strive for myself even to this day.

He loved this place, and you could feel that in everything he did.

Hell, he even shot a music video inside Meow Wolf, one of my favorite places in the world, which, like him, is a true representation of the creative power of this land.

But that’s part of why I decided to get out of bed and write about this person today.

He inspired me. He inspires me still.

How bright he did shine. How poetic he really was. When you lose someone so powerful, you feel their spirit leaving this earth. I could feel it that morning as I sat in the same chair I’m sitting in now.

So many people I care for, so many people I believe in, believed in Wake Self, and he represented us all so well. I don’t think there was ever a question he was going to do great things.

We knew what we had. We still know that.

He encouraged self-care, respect for women, and the expansion of your intellect as a way of freeing your mind. He embraced the past while still looking towards the future.

He wanted to show how special and unique New Mexico was, and he was on a path to do that with his words.

We had a shining star. You could feel it. He was on the cusp, and yet still he never lost that side that kept him humble, the side that people so clearly loved.

And when I’d see him out in the city, hanging with his people, the same way I did with mine, you could feel how connected we all really were. How alive and never-ending it all really did feel. If only just for a bit.

And now, three years later, as Wake Self Day arrives again, I can feel his star still shining down on us all. In fact, how can I tell him, would he even believe, that his star shines brighter now more than ever?

It shines in the people he left behind, the people who cry for him still, the ones who are now meant to keep his spirit alive.

It shines in murals I see everywhere, dedicated not just to him, but to all the artists we’ve lost along the way.

It shines in the words that he left behind for us with his music and his rhymes. Words, I don’t feel, will ever fade.

But most of all, his light shines in the young artists whose own future his art has inspired. They follow his path while still finding a way to make their own and it’s a reminder that we don’t ever truly die if we lived a life worth living.

And Wake Self wasn’t the first we lost, or the last, but he left so much behind that I don’t think it will be the end for him. I think this is still just a beginning.

So if you’re reading these words, and whether you loved Wake Self, or you’re just discovering him now, all I can say is keep going. Keep creating. Keep learning. Keep trying. And even if you fail, both at life and with each other. Say you’re sorry. And let’s try again. Let’s be better for each other, and for the ones that don’t have a say anymore.

We have to live for the ones who inspire us, and we have to show that every day.

I wish to say thank you to Wake Self for opening my eyes at a time when I didn’t even know they were closed. His loss and the hole his spirt left in this place I love so much, inspired me to use my own words as support and inspiration to others.

And lastly, please don’t drink and drive. Call a taxi, or a ride share, or even just a friend to come pick you up. We have lost too many good people to the bad decisions of others.

Rest In Power to Wake Self.

May your light shine so bright that your spirit never dims.

Come find me on the dancefloor sometime.

You know who I’ll be listening to.

As the rain drops slowly fall from the ceiling into the bucket beside my chair, I type these words, and I hesitate to share the details of what happened on September 3rd, 2022, also known as day two of Arc Music Festival, in Chicago Illinois.

What many people don’t understand about being a writer is that when you write something, especially about a memory, that thought doesn’t come back once you put it onto paper. Sure, you remember it, but it’s just not the same.

It starts with the creation of the idea in my mind, an epiphany. Then it carries down my spine, across my shoulder, through my arm, into my fingers, and finally out onto the keyboard, which then reflects back to me on the computer screen. The literal manifestation of your thoughts, and yet once you share them you realize they are no longer yours anymore.

That’s why I am reluctant with this one. I don’t wish to share that day with you because I don’t want to let it go, and yet that is the point of the things you love, I suppose. Letting them go every day, and hoping with all your heart they come back.

As we all know, though, often times, the things you love, never come back. In fact, its’ the things and people you love the most that you will lose the most, and they are usually gone forever once they’re gone, aren’t they? Which is a bit heartbreaking, but in this case I don’t think it has to be.

The beauty of what I write is that as I share the moments I’ve had, they then become our moments, and for that instant we are together.

Wherever we are, whatever we’re doing, however we’re feeling. As you read my words now, know that as you follow them, we are together, and since we can share that connection once, we can always go back to it again.

Day 2 is a day I’ll wish I can always go back to. Here’s why.

The day started slow for us, but then again I think that was the case for everybody. Day One went as hard as any night I’ve ever experienced, and I will forever hold that first day as an example of how hard Techno fam can really go sometimes.

We ended up not going to sleep until maybe 9am for no other reason than we just didn’t want the fun to end, which happens a lot in this life. So, because of that, we started the day behind.

Although, not in the way where you get frustrated and upset, but rather in the way, where you just say, fuck it, we’ll be there when we’re there.

Something I feel we’ve lost over the years is our ability to just roll with it, and I’m so grateful for the fact that we returned to that with Arc this year. We did what we wanted, when we wanted, for as long as we wanted, and that was something we stopped doing for a while.

We took our time this year, and found ourselves getting in line just in time to catch the end of Enrico Sanguinlini getting the Grid going early with his one of a kind Italian Techno Sound. We have always been huge fans of Enrico, and hearing him take over the mainstage was a great feeling we were able to have all weekend long.

As lovers of House and Techno I can’t deny the fact that going to most major Electronic Music Festivals these days means we don’t spend a lot of time at the main stage, which I end up regretting since at a lot of them, especially the Insomniac ones, the main stage is amazing and an experience all by itself.

And I’m not here to complain about EDM, or what is played there because I understand why they exist, and I don’t have any energy to criticize them. That’s why we have boutique festivals like Arc and Movement. Smaller festivals designed more for us that prove as an alternative, not a competition.

I truly believe there is room for both types of festivals. My weekend in Chicago helped remind me of that fact.

After Enrico we remained at the Grid to hear another Italian Techno titan, a real favorite of ours, Joseph Capriati. We had not seen Capriati live since before the quarantine, and I believe it goes without saying that it was tough for him just like it was tough for all of us.

But that’s why Arc was so beautiful. It was a chance for us to celebrate that we’re all still here. And we’re all still together. Not everybody can say that. Not everybody made it to Chicago this time. We can’t ever forget that one.

I can still remember how it felt when he dropped that bass for the first time in the way only he can. Sometimes he plays house and its fun and interesting, but this wasn’t one of those times. This time he played techno, and it was heavy, and as powerful as the sunlight that was shining on us all day long.

He had that same smile, and the music was banging. Just absolutely banging. I loved every minute of what that DJ played. Living up to everything I expected, and I believe, exceeding it as well.

Even Carl Cox, who was closing the stage later that night, hung around, and took pictures with the crowd, and enjoyed Jospeh’s set as much as anybody.

It was a sign of what I’d see throughout the day and the weekend. This wasn’t just a celebration and a reunion for us on the dancefloor, but also one for the DJ’s as well. They’re all so on the go all the time, and yet so little do they see one another.

Chicago was an excuse for us all to stop and enjoy the music, the love, and this life together. We take that and each other so for granted sometimes, don’t we?

After enjoying the moment with Capriati as much as we could we decided to head over to the Expansions stage to hear the unique and captivating Ricardo Villalobos, who, true to form, was late.

Nobody was surprised, but also not upset either. You could feel everybody just chilling and going with it. Especially because, sure enough, after about half an hour there he was, in all his glory.

Swaying, and moving with the beat as if he were a ballroom dancer, clearly already having a better time than everybody, and playing a style of music you know only he plays. Music I found to be subtle and quite amazingly beautiful.

His control of the percussions and his ability to keep you captivated while working deliberately towards the next beat are impressive to experience in the daylight of Chicago.

He clearly loved the setting and gave us an hour of cool, Latin, minimal, almost tribal house, that would lead perfectly into the two DJ’s who came next. And let me tell you, these are the DJ’s we were waiting for.

Mark Farina and Derrick Carter have separately, been two DJ’s I have loved since I first discovered House Music over twenty years ago, and they are without a doubt the two biggest reasons I went to Chicago this year in the first place.

I’ve seen them both before, but never together. Never doing a b2b. I had dreamed of what a b2b between the two Chicago natives would sound like, and even after I heard it, I struggle to explain what it really was.

I can even recall right before they played, how they were up there with Villalobos, and even Honey Dijon had showed up early to say hello. They were all up there hugging, and celebrating, taking pictures together, and enjoying this one moment they’d have under the Chicago Sunset with House Music from all around the world surrounding them.

Then it started playing, and it felt like this set was the set I was waiting my entire life for. I’ve struggled a lot to try and describe exactly what to say about this exact moment mainly because it took me so long to have it. How can I truly describe something I’ve worked my entire life for? Will my words ever do it justice?

No. But they don’t have to. All my words need to do is tell you that for nearly two hours I heard a mix of the jazzy trippy sound that Farina invented and the Funky Soulful sound that Carter created mashed together so perfectly that it made a new sound. It was both of them and something completely new all at once.

There were A’ Capellas on top of songs, and songs, layered on top of other songs. And three songs playing at once. And one DJ focusing on the track, while the other focused on the words. And then there were times where one of them would flip the crossfader in that old school house way I remember so well. Or maybe scratch a little. Just to make sure you were listening, but also to show just how in control of the beat they really were.

Even a friend of ours, who is from Chicago, and had seen them both so many times, he just considered them locals, could not believe the sound they were pulling off.
So funky. So powerful. So loud. So real. So House.

There was even a moment where we left to go see Carl Cox at the Grid, and halfway there we simply turned back. And it wasn’t that Carl wasn’t going off at the mainstage, because he was. It’s just simply that we had seen Carl a few times before, but what was going on with Farina and Carter would never happen again, for her and I, at least.

This was our one and only chance to see these DJ’s, in this setting, and we took it. Not missing a moment.

We even found a spot towards the end where we sat together on a chair swing and laughed as we marveled at the moment. How did we get here?

How? After all these years of struggling, and sacrificing, and believing in nothing but the music and each other, How did I get here?

It was at this moment, as the love of my life sat at my side under the Chicago stars, in the middle of a beautiful park, I realized those words just weren’t in my head anymore.

Without even noticing, Honey Dijon started playing the last set of the night. The last one I wish to write about at least. And what did she start with?

An A’ Capella, of course. I mean, this is Chicago.

But it wasn’t just anybody singing. It was David Byrne, truly one of my favorite artists of all time.

How did she know to play this song at this moment in this way? How?

Because she’s Honey Fucking Dijon, and she’s from Chicago.

“And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack.
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheels of a large automobile.
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house.
With a beautiful wife.
And you may ask yourself,
Well,
How did I get here?”

Of all the moments, and all the DJ’s who have ever given me a moment, I don’t feel any will make me feel the way Honey Dijon made me feel right there. She gave me a moment with a song, and a place, and a person that I will never forget. And she gave me it without even knowing I was out there.

House is eternal. House is love. House is everywhere.

And as he repeatedly whaled into the night while jazz trumpets slowly built behind his voice, David again, said over and over.
“Same as it ever was.
Same as it ever was.”

For all my life the Talking Heads have been a major inspiration for my own art. True intellectual artists who are telling you something while you are feeling it. I followed David Byrne’s words out onto the road that led me to that moment, and in that moment Honey Dijon repeated those very words back to me.

“Same as it ever was.”

There were other DJ’s I saw that night, and other moments I had, but looking back, I see so clearly they all come second to that one. The moment Carter and Farina finished and Dijon began. It’s one I don’t think I ever thought I’d have, and yet, because of belief, and love, and commitment, there I was. There we all were.

The music eventually ended and we walked slowly towards the exit thinking only one thing. That was the night we were waiting for. That was Chicago.

For whatever reason we must’ve seen this night coming, as I’ll admit to you we had no plans for an afterparty for this one. And don’t get me wrong, Chicago was as alive with House music as ever, so we had many options to choose from.

Derrick Carter and Villalobos were playing Cermak Hall, while Get Real and Gene Ferris took over Radius; Farina was playing somewhere in the city with Mike Dunn, and Honey Dijon was playing the legendary basement of Metro, known to us all as Smartbar.

We wanted to go to Smartbar, and when we couldn’t get tickets, we decided to just stay in. For all the parties we made, there’s one thing we have taken for granted over all these years. Our time alone together in the hotel. Enjoying the peace. Enjoying each other.

For so long you just go go go, and you don’t stop to enjoy your love, and that starts to take a toll. For my love and I, after twenty one years, there were just as many missed chances as there were made. This was one where we just wanted to stop. And save ourselves for Sunday.

So instead, we spent all night in bed, listening to the music of a DJ from New Mexico, who very much had a part not just in our knowledge of House, but also of Chicago.

I met Reverend Mitton when I was sixteen, and from that moment on it seems I was learning from him without realizing it. I suppose DJ’s are the teachers, and the dancers are their students. In our classroom we studied House Music, and the Rev will always be a master when it comes to house.

Because of that I wanted him to be a part of that night. I wanted him to know that even though he wasn’t there, as the sounds of House filled the streets of Chicago, and there were people dancing everywhere, at least one speaker in the whole city played the sounds of New Mexico. The sounds of the Rev. I feel we owed him and our home that.

I’d want them to know that even if they weren’t physically there, they were there in our hearts, and in our hearts, is where House Music lives.

Sometime in the morning we fell asleep in each other’s arms as the overcast slowly crept back in above the skyscrapers outside our window, and all I kept thinking was one simple fact.

House Music is set the beat of my heart. And never in my life had my heart felt so full.

There was nothing left to do but sleep and prepare for our final night in Chicago.

Together.

So we did.

After Day One we took the green line back to the hotel, and found ourselves right in the middle of the Riverwalk on a Friday night, surrounded by strangers. It’s amazing the places you’ll go if you simply go out there and find them.

We stood on the bridge and enjoyed the smooth air as it brushed up against the river surface just enough to carry that cool breeze slowly towards our faces that were fried and covered in sweat from the hot Chicago humidity.

It was a welcommed moment of refreshing peace.

After that, we took shots in the hotel room as we freshened up fast and rushed right back onto the subway. The red line this time, where a random guy tried to sell us weed, and we joked with another that there’s no place on the planet like the red line.

Something we knew for a fact now after returning from wandering the Subways of New York the weekend before.

It dropped us off just outside Chinatown, and we rushed through the dark city only to suddenly find ourselves at the foot of Cermak Hall just around midnight, ready for the afterparty.

Cermak Hall and Radius are very unique in the fact that they are two very distinct clubs with their own identities, but they are connected to one another, with the weekend of Arc being the best example of how great it really gets.

Buying tickets to one meant buying tickets to both, and even though our tickets were to the Anna afterparty in Cermak, we still managed to make it over to Radius to see Boris Brechja performing at the top of his ability with an amazing soundsystem and an outstanding light show.

Radius is one of the best clubs I’ve been to in that it still attempts to stay true to the warehouse mentality with minimal decorations, but also still giving that powerful performance that Techno can now give with lights and sound and power.

Many people complained that Boris played early, which is understandable if you bought a ticket to see Boris, but to me he was a bonus on a night where I just didn’t have the time to go see him at the Grid earlier in the night at the festival.

He was closing the main stage out as Richie Hawtin played the Expansions, and Chris Lake played Elrow, so it was very exciting to get a redo with him, no matter how short it was, and how unhappy people seemed to be that next day.
Oh, and believe me, they were.

There’s this thing that happens with the festival crowd, and it’s this obsession with Set times, and planning it just right, and making sure no DJ is missed.

And don’t get me wrong, I do that too, but I’ve also had friends get mad at me for missing a DJ set at a festival, or get upset because we wanted to see someone different than they did, or even force us to see DJ’s we didn’t want to see, simply so we can all be together.

I understand that Unity mentality, and I support it, but not when it comes at the expense of the experience of all involved. We all work hard to get to these moments, and because of that we should all be allowed to walk our own paths and to experience our own moments. What I fear is missing right now is the willingness to embrace the spontaneity of things.

The ability to show up, and let what happens happen, and no matter where you go or who you see, that’s the experience and path you were meant to take. This same idea can be applied to life as well, I suppose, and although I’m not encouraging irresponsibly, I am trying to remind my fellow dancers of where this culture started.

We are not built on set times, but rather love of the music together, and the music should be what leads us, not the list saying what time the cool DJ starts. We should embrace what we weren’t prepared for, and that is exactly what was happening in Cermak Hall. As Boris finished Sama started, and I’ll admit it became a bit of a blur from there.

She played with such power and intent that it stole the day for me, and that’s not even including what happened around 3am or so, as Anna decided to do a b2b with Sama before her own set, something not planned or expected.

Something we do as preparation for a build up to a festival is we love listening to previous mixes of DJ’s we know we are gonna see, and for the lead up to Arc we both had one favorite we loved above the rest. Sama and Anna doing a b2b at Exit Festival in Serbia.

We loved their energy playing together, and yet we had no intentions of hearing them do a b2b at all as it wasn’t planned in any way. But again, that’s the beauty of spontaneity, as the music played by the two together that night at Cermak Hall, wasn’t just my favorite of the night, but also amongst the best I heard all weekend. They left me smiling from ear to ear as we finally tapped out around four or five am, and Anna was just getting started.

After all we still had two more days of the festival, and how in the world could they match or top this?

We hitched a ride with a good friend from Denver back to the hotel as we remembered the red line at five in the morning isn’t the safest option, and I stared out the window at the Chicago morning light as we all asked the same thing. What does Chicago have for us next?

If Techno ruled Day one and even the pre party with Pan-Pot, what would Day 2 give us?
Looking at the lineup before we fell asleep sometime after sunrise we got our answer. Day 2 was about House Music. Because as we all know.
Chicago is about House. And it was time to go home.

It’s really fun remembering what it was like living during the same time as the Beastie Boys. Life was amazing in It’s obscurity, and I was at a moment where my intellect and my awareness were reaching that point of self realization.

In simple terms, I was finally starting to recognize art that I liked. Art that I’d find for myself. The Beasties were among the first I loved, although, I had no idea they existed long before I ever discovered them that one day, when I was maybe about 11 years old.

Maybe sooner. Who really knows. I assume it was around 11 or 12 years old because it was during the time I was really into skateboarding, and their style played a huge part into who I found myself wanting to be.

I just knew they were something different, and that was enough for me.

The first song I heard from the Beastie Boys was ‘Watcha Want’. A crazy mix of punk, rap, rock, and all kinds of other styles that I don’t think were even invented yet. Right out of the gate they were blowing my fucking mind.

I couldn’t believe it. I remember I waited days, maybe weeks to finally have the chance to record it off my radio that hung above my bed, onto a tape, so I could ride around the neighborhood and jam this new track by this new band I never heard of before. It’s amazing how little I still knew.

It was back when we still lived right off Western Skies, and before my father used his Navy Pension to buy his big house on the West Side. The new house was nice and all but I estimate I lived in that giant one no more than two total years, and never all at once. Moving around constantly.

Western Skies I lived at for more nearly five years straight, and although the neighborhood was rough, I always felt comfortable there. I’d ride around on my skateboard that I decorated with stickers from 107.9 The Edge, and I’d say what’s up to the homies and the ese’s as they hung out doing their thing, and I just didn’t give two shits about anything else.

I had my music, my skateboard, and the road. I suppose not much will ever change for some of us.

From there my connection to the Beastie Boys grew as their musical abilities were on full display, with what I believe is their best track, ‘Sabatoge’.

The Guitar Riff, the way they shout out at you, even the attitude in their tone. I’m still amazed listening now in the middle of the night as an old man.

One thing that always remained with the Beastie Boys is you could always hear their attitude and you could always feel their power. ‘Sabatoge’ has as much power as any track I’ve ever listened to. And don’t even get me started on the video.

From there they went futuristic with Intergalactic, and again, they asked me to change, and evolve with them.

By the time this one came out they had returned to their Hip hop ways, but with their own ability to progress, and I was going through a bit of a change as well.

I had outgrown the skater life, and was now fully immersed in all things Hip Hop. The Wu Tang Clan, Tupac, the Notorious BIG, Snoop. It was such a golden age that Jay Z was still just an afterthought. A side player.

Rap and Hip Hop culture exploded in the nineties and I was in love with it. I still am. Which is why I’m up writing about it at 2:30 in the morning, while a beautiful naked woman lays in bed, waiting just for me to join her. The culture has given me so much, and I must do my best to give back to it.

The Beasties are such a unique part of Hip Hop Culture simply because there is no one version of them. No one style. No one answer. In this new day and age we must be many things, to many people, at many different times.

I still subscribe to that state of mind to this day. The only good style is the one that can be any style.

I see now that my early relationship with Hip Hop would end up being the catalyst for what I now apply to my studies and commitment to Rave Culture. Before I ever found a rave I was deeply connected to the MC and the DJ.

Which brings me to my forever favorite track by the Beastie Boys, Three MCS and One DJ. The ultimate example of not just their ability, but also an inclusion of the fourth member of the group, Mixmaster Mike.

The way the three wordsmiths flowed with each other naturally and organically can also be shown in the way they flowed with their DJ. The simplicity of this track and the video that goes with it shows not just what hip hop will always be about, but also the Beastie Boys as well.

Three guys on the mic, dropping their rhymes, expressing their style, and a DJ using his skill to cut and twist the track to match their vocals in such a way that it’s different every single time. The nature of a true DJ can never be ignored nor denied. I know that just like the Beasties did as well.

For every good MC, there’s always a good DJ that has their back. Nothing will change that one.

These few words I share with you about the Beastie Boys are not meant to be my only words, but rather a start to what I wish to say to Hip Hop and how it’s molded me more than perhaps I realized when I first began to write words onto a pad.

The culture of it still lives with me now, and I owe the Beastie Boys a bit of credit for that. For me, a brown boy from New Mexico cruising on his skateboard alone into the sunset, they answered a call I didn’t even know I was making.

I’ll never have that feeling back, and I suppose I know I don’t have to. Living it once is enough sometimes. Most times.

Not mentioned is their legendary album Licensed to Ill, their inclusion in the beginning of Def Jam Records and their work with producer Rick Rubin.

I could go on and on about what they’ve done and what they’ve changed, but for now I just want to share how the music changed me.

How the music still affects me now. So as I write these final words, and I return to bed, with the woman who may save or destroy me, I just wish to say thanks. Thanks to the Beasties for encouraging me to always be something new.

I don’t feel that’s a rhyme I’ll ever forget.

Back From The Chi

Part II

It took me a minute to finally get to writing part 2 of our time in Chicago for Arc Music Festival, because writing about a festival is very much like going to a festival. Once you’re in it you’re in it, and whatever happens, happens. So, you just gotta go with it.

My two trips to Chicago are as much an example of this fact as any, and as I saw time and time again with this year’s edition, the city will ask more than you expected and it’s up to you to either respond, or not. With Day One it seems everybody responded. I mean, everybody.

From the minute we got to Union Park you could feel a different energy than the year before. Not as much anxiety coming out of quarantine, as the 2021 edition was the first festival back for many of us, and the tension was everywhere. Like, learning to walk again, last year was filled with apprehension that was replaced by excitement this year.

People weren’t as afraid, or self-conscious, or reserved this time. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that Day 1 of Arc Music festival went just about as hard as any Day 3 of a festival I have ever been to.

House and Techno FAM came to party in 2022, and it was a celebration of this city as well as one of the fact that we were finally starting to get some proper festivals of our own.

Day 1 started, strangely enough, nice and slow for my rave pal and I. We took our time recovering from what Pan-Pot did to everybody at Spybar the night before, and as the gates opened to the festival, we still remained in bed, eating Spaghetti together from our favorite spot in Chicago, Portillo’s.

It’s a secret pleasure of this traveling life that with every place you go, you also taste their local and favorite restaurants, and sometimes, those are what you miss the most when it’s time go.

As much as we loved the DJ’s playing to start day one, none of them could compare to our joy in finally eating that Spaghetti again. My only regret is not getting ribs too.

After taking our time, we finally felt fed and ready enough to enjoy the music, and as we boarded the green line, the energy was already building.

One of the huge advantages of this festival are the Subway lines of Chicago, which take you all around and back again, with this one dropping you right at the front door of the festival itself, causing Ubers to be secondary for a weekend.

We finally managed to get ourselves into the festival and facing the mainstage known as the Grid, dead on as Nora En Pure played that sultry smooth sound she seems to have such a skill at adapting to any stage she plays.

We have seen Nora at many spots in many different settings, and yet she always seems to know exactly how to adjust her sound to fit the dancefloor.

We didn’t stay long, though, as our priority was the Expansion stage, as Day 1 was dedicated to techno all day long. We barely missed Pan-Pot, but felt comforted by the fact that we saw them the night before, and found ourselves right at the beginning of a block that would consume both the majority of our day one at the festival but also our night at the afterparty.

Sama’ Abdulhadi, a Palestinian DJ once arrested during an event in her home country, started a heavy and authentic style of Techno that you could feel, and a perfect example of the sound she’s been spreading all around the world.

The weather was beautiful, with an overcast and cool weather, and the music was amazing, as Brazilian powerhouse Anna followed right after, continuing the energy and unity you always seem to feel from the Techno FAM, no matter where they’re from.

Techno is about us all being there collectively together, and enjoying this sound that has gone all around the world and back again.

Very much like House music, Techno was made in America but embraced in all corners of the world and these two DJs were such a good example of that as their ability and power could be felt at every drop of the beat.

Techno is Universal. Even Chicago knows that.

As Anna played with the Sunset and brought the crowd of techno freaks to an emotional peak, then the last DJ of the expansion stage came on. Richie Hawtin.

I’ve written many words and traveled many distances to see Richie Hawtin and every time has been outrageous in its own way.

Whether it’s in New York, or Detroit, or Los Angeles, or even here in Albuquerque that one time, Richie Hawtin seems to bring something a little different every time, while still staying true to that sound he’s championed for so long now.

Still though, even with saying that, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Richie play the way he did that night to close out the stage. He seems to always be trying to prove something, and with this one Richie went hard. So hard. He had the sound system blasting and the entire crowd dancing with joy.

There’s this secret of Techno that if it’s really loud, really fast, and really heavy, it causes the people listening to go insane and happy. Richie did that to everybody that night.

We just danced and enjoyed how good he really sounded, and every now and then all I could do was muster the same words I always seem to say when I see Richie Hawtin:

“Fuckin Richie.”

We managed to pull ourselves away from Richie just in time to finish the night at the Elrow stage where Chris Lake was controlling the beat in the way only he can, and true to its from, Elrow was as colorful and outrageous as you’d expect it to be.

Chris Lake is one of my favorite producers and DJ’s, and perhaps one of the very few that would justify me leaving Richie Hawtin, but needless to say, seeing Chris at the Elrow stage is an experience I knew I couldn’t miss, and by all standards he did exactly what he always does.

There was even a moment, near the end, where he actually did what any good DJ seems to know how to do. He pulled at our emotions, this time, playing Innerbloom, by Rufus Du Sol, but only the chorus, only enough to hurt just a little.

Only to get your attention long enough just to drop right into his own track, ‘Turn off the lights’, which caused everyone to go crazy, and sing along in unison as the confetti flew and everybody was dancing.

From there Chris finished with the Bob Sinclair track ‘World, Hold On,’ which samples the classing Frankie Knuckles song ‘The Whistle Song,’ and you could feel how insanely wild night one really was.

Starting in one place and ending in another. Going crazy to techno with Richie Hawtin and then singing our hearts out with Chris Lake. Chicago asked everything of us for day one, and in return House and Techno FAM gave everything back. I mean, everything.

As the silence carried over, and we all made our way out of the festival grounds, I just kept thinking one amazing fact that will always represent the day for me.

“Holy shit, Sonya. That was only day One.”

And that’s not even including, the afterparty.