Ourdancefloor.net

Last night should have been a dream come true for me, and on paper it was. I’ve spent most of my life on paper and looking at it from a distance it should have been a representation of how far I’ve come both as a raver, but also as a writer. DJ Colette was playing at Meow Wolf, and I had a date with the raver girl who introduced me to her music.

To top that off two New Mexico House Music Legends were playing right before her in a b2b that I know wouldn’t just help get the night started, but it would also serve as a true representation of the sound this state makes so well. Along with that another great DJ named Girl Wunder played experimental glitch sounds in the second room, representing a new style and sound for the state moving forward. It was already promising to be a special night with great talent in a great venue.

What’s better is that for the first time ever I was going to a show where all four of the dj’s previously mentioned are dj’s that I have written about on my blog Ourdancefloor.net in this last year. Two years ago I left the highest paying job of my life to fully commit to my writing and whatever came with it. From there I published books, started this website and began to interview DJ’s. It’s been a wonderful ride, so far.

But with that there’s been struggle too. All of this happened both during the pandemic and into the aftermath of it. The struggles we’ve faced in the last two years have been unlike any faced in the history of the world, and still we don’t know where that will end. The best example of the toll this has taken will always be in my partnership with my wife, and where we are now.

We met just three months short of 22 years ago, no less than two miles away from where I am writing these words now. It was the night of a rave and we had all agreed to meet at my father’s house to shoot pool and pregame. Yes, my father had a pool table in the living room. It was awesome and we had a lot of good times there. I also got into a lot of trouble too.

She walked in the door that night, we locked eyes, met, and the rest is history. Twenty two years of a crazy, wild, amazing ride that I never had the time to stop and notice while it was happening. As John Lennon says, ‘Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.’ And I couldn’t say it better myself.
What a ride.

We saw the world together. We faced the madness together. So many good moments. So many good memories. So many things they told me that I’d never have, and still I have it. These are things that can never be taken away, and yet still I know, they change. Everything changes. And so did we.

We lost it somewhere along the way. We let it go. We failed. And it wasn’t over anything major. We never fought about money, we’ve always been loyal, and we are each other’s best friends. But still, even with saying that, you’re not gonna stop things from changing. And when it happens there’s no going back. That’s where we are now, and we know that. Especially after last night.

It didn’t start like that, though. It started as a great plan. I got home from helping set up the sound for another show around 6pm and we were showered and ready to go by 10pm. Perfect timing to make the trip up to Santa Fe and hear every single DJ we wanted.

But as I got in the car and I began to drive, the feeling started to change for me. If only for me. It starts deep down in your stomach, like an ache but you know it’s not something you ate, yet still it grows. And the closer we got, the more that feeling began to take over. I couldn’t even explain it. And my co-pilot, she tried in every way possible, but still it did nothing to help.

The anxiety and the fear and the uneasiness took over so much that by the time I made it Santa Fe and was ready to turn into the meow wolf parking lot, I just couldn’t. Similar to the day I quit my job I just couldn’t do it. Instead of turning in I just kept going. At first I said I was hungry, but I knew that wasn’t true. Eating wouldn’t help this.

We then agreed to switch so she could drive and I considered the idea that maybe I was just exhausted, although, again I knew that wasn’t true. Eventually I admitted to her that I just couldn’t go in and she agreed to drive me home. We drove home in silence without a word of anger or resentment. I didn’t tell her why and yet still she knew. We’ve been partners long enough to say things to each other without words. This was one of those times.

She then offered to take me to the after party thrown by Cenit going late into the morning; which was something I had been helping with all day. Just spending one day with this group was amazing to say the least. They are hardworking, and creative, and kind, and committed. I was there to learn and I found that I learned so much just in that. I feel such admiration for those who are so focused on this culture and this life that they don’t even have time to look up and read what the rest of us waste our time saying.

I look forward to seeing what the collective known as Cenit will do next and I wish to offer my help in any way possible. Whether it be helping lug those speakers down the stairs, or even just being the lonely guy in the middle of the dancefloor watching you guys decorate. It was an amazing day, and I’m only sad that I couldn’t see it at its peak last night. But even without that, I know it was good. And you earned it.

I should have at least been okay with that, but instead I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I asked her to take me home and we went straight to bed without saying a word. It was sad, but not in the way you’d think. Sad in a way that I knew when I woke up things would be different forever and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

All that was left for me to do was fall asleep. So I did. With her by my side.

But that was last night and today, in the sweltering heat I type these quickened words with absolute understanding of what must come next. We have to change, my love and I. We have to be better. We have to stop letting our love get in the way of our partnership, and most of all our friendship.

She is my best friend, and if I have to choose between my wife and my best friend, I pick her as my best friend because I want her to be okay. I want her to succeed. I want her to be what I see in her. Even if that means it’s not with me. I love her enough to let her go.

With that I must announce that there will be a change to Ourdancefloor a bit. It started as a commitment to the underground and how it looked from the point of view of two bears in love and on the road. Well, now it’s just not about us anymore. Our dancefloor isn’t just ours anymore. We’ve got to let go of that.

Now Ourdancefloor represents a chance not just to acknowledge those we come across in the culture that we admire, but also a chance to remember those we lost along the way. Ourdancefloor is theirs now as well.

I wish I coulda made it to that show last night, because I know I probably could’ve met Colette and I could’ve thanked her for her music, and I could’ve told her how I’ve been writing about her. How, I discovered her when I was sixteen and she was my teen idol just as much as any pop star. While the rest of the world was watching TRL, I was listening to House Music and DJ Colette.

We could’ve probably taken some pictures together too, but deep down I would’ve always known that in that picture something wasn’t right with me. That I was forcing it, and faking it, just a little. My heart is destroyed, and broken beyond repair. I don’t know when it’s going to feel better, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to return to the dancefloor.

Because of that I’ll keep writing, and trying again. Trying to give New Mexico words to go with its beautiful landscapes and absolutely unique musical taste. I’m going to fall into my art, and I’m going to work my ass off to find a way back to that moment I could have had last night. The moment I knew I just couldn’t face.

And even if the whole world wouldn’t know the whole story, I would. If I had followed through with last night I would’ve fallen back in love with both House Music and with my love, and I would’ve started the cycle over again; the cycle that would eventually destroy our love once and for all. But I don’t want that.

We’ve come too far. We’ve done so much. We owe each other better.

So Our Love and Our Dancefloor aren’t just ours anymore. They belong to everyone. This culture and the people we lost along the way, demand more of us.

So, in closing I will do nothing more than share a video of a song by the Killers that I used to play a lot before I knew I was going to Las Vegas, Nevada. It was near the beginning of our travels, and it would get me ready and it would make me feel okay with taking this shot. A shot that I made dead on; a shot I didn’t know was aimed directly at my heart.

We don’t know when we start on them that these trips are going to change us more than we ever wanted. We don’t know they’re going to ask more than we can give, and still we know when the times comes, we have to be willing to accept it and move on. Now, it’s time to move on.

But I learned that lesson with time, and love, and doing it the hard way, although, most times I just didn’t have to. I learned it with going out there and living it, and knowing that without regret it was and will always be, worth it. So thanks to the DJ’s, and the promoters, and the dancers, and most of all, the girl who was mine, both all those years ago, and again last night.

See you on the dancefloor.

I only actually spoke to DJ Ohm aka Robert Ortega once in my life, and yet I’ll admit I knew of him for years. It’s a small city and an even smaller rave scene. Name’s get around fast especially when somebody is doing something nobody else is, and that’s the first thing that should be said about him. He was doing something only he could do.

His own sound. His own style. He was one of a kind. I suppose that’s the best thing that could be said about any of us. We are exactly us, and nothing more. But then again his reputation as probably the best scratch DJ in New Mexico is not what I will remember about him, although again his skill must be mentioned.

A 4 time DMC US Finalist and Red Bull Thre3style Regional Qualifier, he didn’t just take turntablism to new heights in New Mexico, he was and is its identity. Many of us grew up listening to the sounds of his scratches. It cannot be understated that in writing these words we didn’t just lose a person, but also something I suppose a little bit more than that. In this moment we lost a star.

What I will always remember about Robert Ortega was the one and only night we spoke, and connected in a way you usually do in this life. Just passing each other by for just a moment and yet in that moment, with what is essentially a stranger, you may find a truth you didn’t see before. That’s how I felt about that night, but I should also admit Ohm wasn’t the only reason I feel this way about that night.

I remember I had just gotten out of work, and we had decided to go to dinner with our friends, another couple we met somewhere along the way, that we found ourselves immensely connected to, and I feel that is an understatement. He’s an artist and she’s a dancer, and they seemed to be the type of people I’d meet no matter the time or place or surroundings. Our meeting was not coincidence.

But then something happens when you make these connections with people, even if you didn’t mean it, and that’s the fact that you drag each other into the pains you face without even trying. We let each other in, and in doing so our emotions become intertwined. Something I didn’t even think was possible.

On this night our friends were fighting when we got there, and I suppose most people would have left right away, but we aren’t like that. We’ve had our own passion filled fights of our own, and we have no place to judge or turn away. If you love us enough to show us that side of you I suppose we love you enough to stay. And we did.

Plus I was really fuckin hungry, and they promised us some good food so I put up with their fighting to eat, and I don’t feel ashamed admitting that. But in order to tell you the truth about this story, I’ll admit, we never actually got food. Not once all night long.

We started at some bar on Nob Hill, and I can’t remember the name but I would know how to get there if I needed to go back, and I remember how it looked inside. It’s strange how the memory works like that.

We started by taking shots, and I remember the boyfriend got mad and went outside. I guess, to throw a fit, but what was funny is that his fits would never work on us. We’d sit with our friend and we’d all kinda laugh about it, and we’d drink some more, and maybe order some nachos and we’d just ignore him. You have no idea how many times this happened, and it was always kind of fun. But tonight there were no nachos. And that’s when DJ Ohm comes into the story.

I can remember seeing his silhouette at the end of the bar. How funny to think these things now. He was hunched over, and already drunk, but trying to hold his own. The bar was nearly closing and he was at a point where you could tell even then that this wasn’t someone at the bar for joy, but rather for pain. It’s tough to admit that but I knew it was true. Those in pain often recognize others in pain first. We know our own.

“OHM!” She noticed him and called him over.

He noticed us before but did not want to approach until we were ready.

“How you doin, Ohm?”

You could tell he was upset, and yet he tried so hard to hide it. Then he told us about his trouble with his girlfriend and how they broke up again, and I didn’t know any of the details, but I suppose they never got back together, which is reason enough to be at a bar alone drinking the sorrow away. I’ve known that pain too many times before and even then I did not judge or resent him, but rather the opposite. We suddenly felt it with him.

After that he agreed to come hang with us and we went back to our friend’s house, and after that our friends just continued to fight more. It was up it was down it was all over the place, and it was never over anything, but also something I had no place to judge. Couples fight and when you’re in the middle of it you think you’re the only one going through it, but in reality everybody has fought about this stuff. We knew that. And so did Ohm.

It wasn’t all bad, though. We had moments of fun. Taking shots or just smoking weed, like I always do; or just talking. We talked a lot. Having that one moment of intimate conversation that lets you know we’re all in this, is something humans need desperately to survive. That night wasn’t as much about glamour or fun, but rather one where we were all miserable, but at least we were together. And sometimes that’s enough.

I told him I tried being a DJ when I was younger, and I was so bad that I stopped because I respected the art of DJ’ing so much that I wanted to leave it to the people who were natural to it. People like him. He smiled at that one and thanked me for saying that. Not everybody gets it, but you don’t have to be a DJ to understand.

Then he talked about his idea behind #realdjs, and how he wanted to use it as a way of getting back to the art and talent of being a real DJ. How we’ve forgotten that and we all agreed. He made a good point with that. We’ve lowered the standard a bit and we shouldn’t have. We have to be willing to ask more of a DJ and their craft and we have to see it as that. We have to see them as more. I suppose even more so now that he’s gone.

After that I remember our friend came into the room and he asked me why we were still there. Why do we care? And I remember so clearly what I said, even more so now based on who was listening.

“Most people, they only show you their fake side. The side for show. And even if you get to know them, you’re never sure if that’s them or if they’re still faking. But this, and you. I know you’re not faking. You can’t fake this. Anybody can be fake, but what you guys are doing now, is showing me the real you. And you don’t turn away from that.”

I suppose I’ve changed the words since then, but the idea is still the same, and I can remember Ohm responding the most to what I said. In these moments, of sorrow, and pain and all the struggle of live we have to get through, that’s when the real us comes out, and when that person comes out it’s as much about who’s there with you as it is about what you’re facing.

We’re all just trying to survive. I know that. Ohm knew that, and this night we spent together will always be a reminder of the messes we get ourselves into and the people we find along the way.

I never spoke to Ohm again after that night, but he gave me a fist bump after we talked, and I thanked him for the years of his talent, and we went our separate ways. One night only.

And I’d see him around, both before then and after. It’s like that here. Everybody sees everybody. We’re all just a part of it. And I know he had his demons, but so do I. So do we all. But still he carried on. Still scratching. Still representing New Mexico. Still rockin’ the rooftop, or sister bar, or maybe the El Rey if there’s a hip hop show. If we are a culture and a community he was a part of it, and now we lost one of our own.

In closing, I know this isn’t a story on DJ Ohm professionally as much as it’s a moment I shared with Robert Ortega personally, but I know that’s how I will remember him. A person I met in a bar one night in the Wild West as we both were just trying to find our way. I’m still searching for mine; I hope he finally found his.

Thanks to the friends who let me into the madness of their lives, and agreed to acknowledge the sorrow in my own. And thanks to Ohm. Thanks for the memories, for being one of a kind and for being a real DJ.

If life is a dancefloor I suppose the afterlife will be as well. And now at least we know, when it’s our time to get there, the music will be jumping, and that dancefloor will be filled with the people who went ahead to make sure it’s ready for us once it’s our time to finally get in.

I’ll see you on the dancefloor, you guys. We’ve gotta keep going, don’t we?

Here’s a cool video he made that not only showcases his talent but also his sense of humor.

DJ Ohm’s thoughts on Albuquerque DJ’s

This is not my original image and was used with the permission of Dj Eldon

All the pictures to follow are by Sonya Gallegos

Tramway to 98th with DJ Eldon

Two blue haired freaks wandering aimlessly through a broken city is what we appeared to be. But not today. Today we had purpose. We had a plan. Although, at first, I’ll admit we couldn’t decide what to listen to. But do you blame us for this one?

The plan was good. Start on tramway and drive down central all the way to 98th street, viewing the entirety of the city called Albuquerque along the way. This city, like so many others, has many faces, and my plan was to see as many of them as possible in one day. But again. What to listen to?

We considered a few DJs, both local and not, but none of them seemed to fit. We needed a DJ who represented not just the city properly, but also the sound. It was then we decided on one DJ and one mix. Which now that I think of it should have been a no brainer. We decided to listen to DJ Eldon.

To anybody involved in the electronic scene in New Mexico this DJ needs no introduction, and yet I’m going to give him one because that is a major point of these words. I want you to know them and their music, and I want us to see each other for who each of us really are.

Eldon is not just a part of the House Music scene here, he basically helped create it, and that is the first thing you should know as you crank this mix up. When you’re listening to DJ Eldon, you’re not just hearing his mix, you’re being given a lesson on our culture. Rave Culture, and where it came from.

But this music didn’t just start with rave culture, and that is the first lesson I feel DJ Eldon has taught me. So many people have contributed to this sound, and this movement, and yet so many of them have been lost and forgotten by time and death.

It is the nature of the underground to be a secret and yet in doing that, we make it possible for those we’ve loved through this sound to be forgotten, but it doesn’t have to be that way. We can remember them. They can be our rainbow in the clouds.

His mix starts with a poem by my all-time favorite poet Maya Angelou, and you can hear in her voice just exactly what she and the DJ mean to say to you. To be a rainbow in the cloud is to be a bright light even if the world is crowded and confused, lost in the madness.

We all have that power to contribute with love and intent, and house music is an extension of that. House music is our love language, and with this mix DJ Eldon knows exactly what to say.

It’s smooth, classic, sophisticated and in the words of DJ Sonya G, “Soulful Tribal Funky Disco.”

As the drive began, we could feel ourselves already falling into the mix perhaps more than the city around us. We dodged knocked over shopping carts, people wandering in the streets, other cars not paying attention, and of course the need to stop and eat everywhere we saw. With us eventually stopping at a local spot called Golden Pride to eat a breakfast burrito in the car while the mix still played.

Food has always been a huge part of our journeys because, well, you need it, and also because we’re always stoned and hungry, so it made sense that we’d integrate that with this drive.

“Live every day like you’re out of town, and you’ll never get bored.” Sonya said from the passenger seat. I had no choice but to agree.

We scarfed and hurried so we could return to the road only to find the broken, shattered part of this unique city. For all the joy and beauty, we have felt from this place, there’s also sorrow and suffering, and you can see it on central as much as anywhere.

I’ve grown with this city even though I am not from it and seeing its change has affected me in a way that I just can’t compare, and yet, as I say that, I see so clearly how that emotion is connected to house music, and therefore, Eldon himself.

As a teenage boy I found the music in the night, and looking back, I realize so many of those late nights hearing the beautiful house music I love so much, were organized, and made possible by Eldon. To say he is just a DJ is selling it short. He has expanded the knowledge of House Music lovers in New Mexico in such a profound way that it’s impossible to measure his impact.

The awareness of what he’s playing and yet the smoothness with which it all blends is at a master level I’ve only seen in House Music Legends. Which is what Eldon is. His influence having a far greater presence with each song that plays.

I realized by the time we reached Nob Hill, and the graffiti art, that this isn’t just a mix, it’s a display of how far house music has come, how much it’s seen, and yet how far it still has to go.

The eternal hope of this music, our music, is that it’s inclusive and always welcoming. It wants you to find it. It wants to save you. It wants to inspire you. But most of all, it wants you to share that with others.

That’s something I have been taught, but not just by Eldon’s music but also his words. He has been places we haven’t, and he has seen things we never will, and yet with every conversation I have with him there is a reminder that all of these things he saw, he knew he was meant to share with us. Something that inspires me not just in music, but in life.

We have to show each other the way, and the directions are in the music we play for each other. By the time he plays a great mix of a Sade song I love so much, we could feel ourselves transitioning from the East to the West as the city was changing.

We had reached downtown. The tall buildings and the homeless sleeping on the street below them were the backdrop now. A beauty and a sorrow we just could not ignore. And still we had to carry forward.

Not just with life, but also because the light was green. All you can do sometimes is remember. Remember so at least one person doesn’t forget. Does that make sense?

Well downtown we stopped at this new spot on 5th street that was a mini food market much like the ones we see in bigger cities. You had a stand for pizza, and one for burgers. Another for chicken tenders, and even a little bar with a moon in the back.

Albuquerque is growing, and trying to be better, and we’ve got to see that about it. For all we’ve failed at still this city tries for us, I suppose we should try back.

We settled on some cheese curds and a Detroit Style pizza to share as we rushed to eat before the money on our meter ran out. Being downtown again, hearing the cars, and the people, and all the life, was desperately needed, and exactly what I wanted.

As the mix moved into what I call Futuristic Disco, the city changed again. Now we had left downtown and were moving into the westside. A growing part of the city, and still always the same. Colorful, dirty, and real. Such a true way to describe this city and the people in it. We are changed by this world and yet still we shine. Again, like a rainbow in the clouds.

The drums of the mix start kicking in more at the end, a great representation of that New York Tribal sound Danny Tenaglia has championed for so long. Before that, the music was soulful and uplifting like Chicago house, and its at this point I remember Eldon again, is using this music to teach us. We have new school emotional house, soulful Chicago House, tribal New York house, and a little bit of that New Mexico flavor to throw it all together.

Perhaps it’s the many pieces of art I’ve seen along this drive that have inspired me, but this mix is much like a painting being done right in front of you. With every brush stroke the image becomes clearer to those of us around, and yet you realize it was always clear in the painter’s head. We just simply had to wait long enough to see it finished.

By the time the mix comes to an end, and we’ve reached 98th street we are looking down at the city we spent all day covering, but only down one street. Still so much more to see, and hear and feel, and yet it’s amazing to think we actually did that. Seeing one end to the other is an act that I feel is being lost in electronic music.

We want the hits. We want the now. We want the 1,2,3 jump. How am I tell you, that the beauty is in the journey, the moments you had along the way and the people you chose to share them with.

Of all things Eldon has taught me both with his music and with his words, it’s that the people who make this culture are what matter and they are the ones who give this music purpose. I feel grateful to have been able to take this drive, and also to have had such a beautiful soundtrack along the way.

In just under two hours I saw the heights, nob hill, the university, downtown, the Rio Grande, and of course, the entire city itself, looking down from the end of it.

There’s more to be said about this DJ, and about this music, but for now, I’ll leave it at what we’ve said so far, and maybe If I’m lucky you’ll come back and learn more.

And when you’ve learned enough, the only hope is that you’ll know what I do. The point of this music and this culture is to share it with others; to remember the forgotten. To make sure they are not lost to the underground.

My only hope is that you bump this music and let it fill the air that surrounds you, and even if you don’t cruise from Tramway to 98th, you’ll still by the end know what New Mexico and House music stand for. Because DJ Eldon taught you.

If you want to hear him live soon, his upcoming shows are at patio 201 on May 20th for an Architects of Rhythm takeover with Justin Roberts. After that he’s playing with JT Donaldson in Santa Fe on July 3rd, and then with Gene Ferris in Albuquerque on August 5th.

This summer, like many summers before it, will be filled with the beautiful sounds of house music, and I am so happy to say that. Not everybody has made it to this point, though, and as I sit here writing the final words to this one, before I go on to the next, I just wish to say thank you to DJ Eldon.

Thanks for showing us House Music, thanks for staying true to those who aren’t here, thanks for that one day you talked to me for like an hour just about the Paradise Garage. And Ron Hardy. And the Music box.

But most of all, thanks for stopping and sharing a word every now and then. Your word. Which isn’t just a voice, but also a part of House Music history.

Enjoy this one, you guys. It was an honor living it, and now it’s an honor writing it. Have fun this summer, and if we’re lucky. I’ll see you on the dancefloor.

Or not.

Monday Morning Mix

Week 1: Girl Wunder

As we loaded up our car, and made our way up into the Sandia Mountains, I started the first mix we wanted to review in the series that for now is called, the Monday Morning Mix, but don’t get used to that title.

The idea is simple. My partner and I will drive around for at least an hour, with no specific destination in mind, we will listen to music, we will get stoned, and we will talk and share what we thought. Which is something we’ve been doing together since we were teenagers, and yet never have we applied that to the music of those around us. Never towards New Mexico. Never until now.

Now, we want to share our thoughts on the DJ’s that populate New Mexico and beyond, and we want to do it solely based on what we hear together in their music. The first DJ we chose was Girl Wunder, and I’ll admit we know very little about this DJ, and yet that’s what we liked. We liked the mystery. We liked the unknown. But what we really wanted to know. Was it techno?

What is techno, though? To me, there is no one sound that represents Techno, although many people these days will make you think otherwise. Over the course of my travels, I have come across multiple groups that have had this discussion, and although many of them have an answer, it’s usually based around what they already believe.

Some think its hard and industrial. Some think it’s soulful and deep. Others think its minimal and scientific. I’ve really heard every point of view on this topic, and yet at every step I know for a fact, they are all wrong. Well, sort of. They’re only half wrong.

They are each also half right, though. Techno is hard and industrial, and it is soulful and deep, and it is minimal and very scientific. Sort of like a concoction made up in a lab or maybe a magic potion made by some magical wizard. There’s really no limit to it, which is truly the answer to what is real techno.

What is real techno? Everything.

That’s the first thought I had when listening to the start of Girl Wunder’s new weekly mix on halfmoonbk.com named Glitch Mode. Over the course of one hour, I heard at least four different styles of techno and yet every single one flows smoothly and with intent towards the overall story meant to be told.

Which I suppose is another point that must be made about this mix. Some DJ’s mix just to play tracks, and I have no intention of saying that style is wrong, but I will admit, it’s not the one I prefer. I prefer the DJ’s who want to tell you something every time. The ones who want to take you on a journey with their music.

It starts with these glitchy breaks, staying true to the name of the radio show, and yet setting a tone that reprograms your rhythm immediately.

My partner and co-reviewer, DJ Sonya G, made the amazing point of stating that New Mexico Electronic music was always based around three genres when we first discovered it. Breaks, Jungle and House Music.

The other genres like Trance and, in this case, Techno, eventually sprung and evolved here, just like everywhere else, but for us, a rave wasn’t considered a rave unless they had one of those three. Breaks, Jungle, or House music. This mix has all of those and then some.

Starting a mix with breaks is a way of catching the attention of the listener, while still showing there is more to go, and that is what happens as the mix progresses from where we started to where we are evolving. This time to what feels like a mix of bass, jungle, hip hop, and again, those breaks we noticed right away.

Evolution, itself, is an important part of techno, as every student of it will one day eventually learn. There is no one style to represent it because it is the one genre in the world that has no limitations or boundaries.

Techno is expression through industrial, and even digital frequencies, and through that we must embrace all sounds. No one thing represents techno because all things represent techno, and as house represents the home we come from home, Techno represents the world that will change us.

This mix caused us to discuss these concepts, and yet, what I also like about it is that you can hear that Girl Wunder has different influences, and not just in sounds, but also in places.

There is this moment, at around twenty minutes, that I can only describe as some kind of Brooklyn Bounce. It has funk, and soul, and yet it still has that upbeat tempo we know so well. I’m not sure what to call it, but it represents a sound so unique that I know she earned it by living it. A lesson about music we all learn sooner or later.

The music we play isn’t just what we love. It’s who we are. It’s refreshing to hear a DJ aware of that fact again.

At the halfway point the mix transitions into dark experimental techno that sets the tone for the rest of this mix. The techno picks up and its now a race instead of a walk. I’ve often said that many times I put techno through the test on whether it can be played over a movie about a dystopian future where there’s a chase scene. Can you picture that chase to this soundtrack?

Yes. Yes, you can.

Then the mix plays perhaps my favorite type of Techno. Acid Techno. I love acid techno and I will seek it out at every place I go, and yet what I like so much about how this DJ is playing it is that the bpm is at such a mellow tempo that it allows you to absorb and embrace the music in a much different way than when heard in the warehouse or even at the festival.

It returns me back to the discussion I’ve heard about what real techno is. Acid techno is a sound that I hear more and more as time goes on, which I love, because it’s a signal to where we began, but often times its played at faster rates with a quickened pace.

This is a final reminder that this DJ is trying to take you on a unique path with this and every mix. In a digital world where music and DJ mixes are released every single week the focus must always be on the evolution of sound through each track played.

By the end that is exactly the way you feel with this DJ and with this mix. Where you started is not where you finished and yet it ends with such finality that all you are left to do is wonder when the journey can be taken again, and more importantly, what will be played on that one?

I look forward to hearing what sounds Girl Wunder plays next as she has dates coming up in both Brooklyn, Denver, and of course New Mexico. For those of us here in New Mexico she will be playing alongside Chicago House Legend DJ Colette on June 11th, at the original Meow Wolf, and then at Sol Sunday’s Free Music and Wellness Festival named Get Free on July 3rd at the Railyard Water Tower, both in Santa Fe. And you can catch her Glitch Mode radio show every second Tuesday of the month at halfmoonbk.com.

It was a pleasure taking a drive and listening to this mix, and I appreciate Girl Wunder for giving us the chance to share with the world how we feel about her music. The ideas shared were a combination of points discussed between both Sonya and Mando during a drive into the Sandias we took together.

A beautiful landscape set to a unique sound in a magical place is what we have been experiencing our entire lives, and the only thing I can say in closing, is that I look forward to the next drive, the next mix, and of course, the next conversation. Please, bump this mix, show the DJ some love, and as always, support the culture.

See you on the dancefloor.

Colette @ Meow Wolf Event Page

Girl Wunder’s SoundCloud

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.

When we started Ourdancefloor.net a little over a year ago things were much different than they are now. The quarantine was slowly coming to an end, and we were ready to head back out on the road. We had always been road people but 2021 was a year we will never be able to duplicate, and we saw places and things we always dreamed of, and the things we saw before, felt new again, considering what we had been through.

But with each trip and amazing experience I had out there, I was always left with the same feeling. A longing for home. A need to reconnect with the place that introduced me to this music and this culture. Where would I be if New Mexico didn’t embrace me? If they didn’t see me for who I really was and asked me to become that person? It’s a strange moment trying to understand a culture only to realize at its base this will always be a community first.

A group of people who will look out for each other, cheer each other on, and most of all, grow up together. We have that advantage that I don’t feel other music scenes have. We are a part of each other’s lives, and because of that we have watched each other evolve. Our failures, our successes, our moments of awkward and unexpected truths we have together, and I don’t feel that is meant to be taken for granted.

That is why I want to write about Gizmo today, a person that I met two decades ago, although we were two very different people back then, weren’t we? She isn’t a DJ, but then again neither am I. In fact, this website was never meant to be devoted to DJ’s and yet still, you’ll find the only people I’ve written about so far have been DJ’s. Now that has to change. Now, we have to talk about the people on the dancefloor. The people who contribute to the vibe and the community, and in the end, our beautiful culture.

I’m not even sure when we first met or even that we spoke much. Things were different back then in the late 90’s and early 2000’s. Everybody went to the rave to escape and to let go. We left our everyday identities behind, and we became our true selves in the only place we were allowed to be those people, at the fuckin rave. We really fell into it too. In fact, I didn’t even know her real name until we met years later as adults.

When we first met my name was Mango and her name was Gizmo, and we were just two raver kids dancing in the night. Most of the time back then it was never a long conversation as much as it was a ‘Hi, how are you?’ or ‘I’m so glad you came.’

We were teenagers. We had so little to talk about. So little experiences of our own to share. It’s so funny to think of that now. We wanted to so badly to be in each other’s lives and yet each of us were just at the beginning of them. So unaware of how the world was really going to change us.

Today, you know her as Shawna Lovato, but looking back I remember a raver named Gizmo who seemed to always have a wig on, but then again, I feel like everybody did. Or maybe their hair was actually that color, or maybe we were just rolling balls, and everything looked multicolored, or maybe I just have one memory and I’m seeing it over and over again. It’s really hard to say, but even with saying that the image of her from those days is still so clear, and I feel that will always be the Gizmo that we all know. The Gizmo we found in the darkness covered in smiles and glitter.

The story of Gizmo the raver is not the only reason I’m writing today, though, because what needs to be said abut Shawna is not just that she’s been a part of this for as long as any of us, but also that she’s just as committed as ever. Supporting those around her, sharing their music, and videos of them playing. She isn’t just some random dancer in the crowd, she is a voice of the New Mexico rave scene who has experienced it all, and still wishes to be here with us. She wishes to support right here and right now.

On a side note, I owe Shawna credit for introducing me to musicians and acts that I love, such as George Fitzgerald, Gorgon City, Lensmen and Calibre during a time when we needed new music in our lives. But don’t we always?

It was when we had just moved back to Albuquerque from Las Cruces after finishing college. We were awkward antisocial adults now and reintroducing ourselves to the New Mexico Rave Scene was a strange and unusual feeling.

We had been away for nearly a decade, hidden away in our own personal bear cave together, my love and I, learning and growing and becoming adults. Wondering if we’d ever go the rave again. And we did. But when we did, we found something we didn’t expect.

We found many of the people from our youth still there. Still dancing, still living, still supporting this culture. Gizmo was one of the first people to welcome us back. And don’t even get me started on the pizza party’s we’d have.

But that’s Gizmo. That’s New Mexico. You’re not just a person in the crowd, you’re a part of our scene. You’re someone that people value. The rest of the world doesn’t allow that. They don’t want to acknowledge how desperately we all need each other to survive.

Don’t be so naïve to forget how much House Music saved your life. But it wasn’t just the music, you see? It was the people you found it with. They are what helped you get through, and in this case, welcomed you back.

But see that’s not all Gizmo is these days. Now, you can go and experience the Gizmo vibe all on its own. Every Friday at patio 201 Shawna is hosting an event showcasing some of the best up and coming DJ’s New Mexico has to offer. This week, on Friday, April 29th she has DJ’S Aimee Jane, Call Me and Davey Jones doing a b3b all evening long, and when you combine that with good food, cold drinks, and a welcoming environment for all ages, you suddenly have something that isn’t just unique to New Mexico, but also a true representation of Shawna herself.

The idea is a place for people to just chill and enjoy talking to one another again surrounded by good music and a growing culture. I suppose in the end, what I value most about Shawna is the fact that she will always be someone willing to have a conversation, and through that conversation you will find absolute love for the music. Our Music.

So please go and enjoy the moment. Watch the sunset, groove to the smooth music, and acknowledge the fact that the people we are surrounded by are not just people who share the same likes and interests as you; they are the ones who help get you through. They are the people you met one day in the magical unknown that we call the Rave. Was it coincidence? Or was it fate? Don’t let these connections go. Don’t take them for granted, but most of all, don’t let them be forgotten.

See you on the dancefloor.

There have been many discussions over many periods of time that have revolved around the definition of the Underground Sound. What is it? What does it represent? Or even the eventual question, WHO is the underground?

If you haven’t had this discussion with groups of people at different moments in your life, then I’m sorry, you’re not surrounding yourself with the right people, and that needs to change. I’ve personally witnessed this conversation in at least five different cities in at least three time zones, and the arguments are always the same.

We all want to claim to know that sound. We all claim to represent that sound, and yet we can all never own it, because the underground is not something you own, so therefore, it can never be something you define, only feel.

For example, when we first got back into raving, we were in our late twenties. We had taken a break to go to college, and it paid off. When we finally returned to the rave life, we had the energy to enjoy it again, and the ability to appreciate it since we had experienced life without it.

I can even remember our first real show back was seeing Derrick Carter at Effex downtown, a few years ago. We had been to Effex a few times before, but this time felt different, especially because it was the first time we’d ever get to see Derrick. Finally, we were seeing Derrick.

Derrick Carter was the first true DJ to me, mainly because I knew he was the one DJ that could play anywhere at any time, and he’d know how to bump it. He represents the true idea of a DJ, in that the DJ themselves are a walking dancefloor, capable of creating that feeling without even knowing it.

Derrick Carter breathes house music just like we all hope to, and yet we knew from his example, you breath it by living it, and you live it every single moment of every single day.

That was always the Underground Sound to me, but then again, things change. Right around the time we finally saw Derrick Carter, we also took a trip to see another House DJ named Solomun.

I’d say it was around 2015 or so, and he was playing a sound I just didn’t recognize and still I loved. It was different. It was unique. It was just as much its own power as something from Chicago, and it was nothing like it. Existing because of House music, and yet evolving into something new. Creating its own Underground Sound.

It was during this period we became obsessed with seeing Solomun in person, agreeing to go any distance if given the chance. Over the course of four years or so we saw him at least six times, with every single one being amazing and unique.

Maybe I’ll talk about each trip someday, but the point is that for that period, the Underground sound to me had evolved from one era and city to another. But then again, was it Solomun that we loved, or was it the environment of the cities we saw him in? What decides the underground?

Somebody had to book him. Somebody had to set it up. Somebody had to create the environment he walked into. To say the DJ was the only thing that represented the underground would be unfair to every single person involved.

As I began to ponder and ask these questions, before I knew it, it did that thing again, and it evolved into something else. This time it was Luke Slater.

Now, if you know who Luke Slater is, you know he’s not any new kind of sound. In fact, he’s as vintage a techno sound as any DJ out there, and yet his sound pops with freshness as much as anybody’s.

Yet still, even with saying that, I know he represented a new moment of Underground sound for me for just a bit there. He represents an evolution. I suppose they all do.

It started with seeing him in a dark scary warehouse in Los Angeles, and it continued with seeing him in an even darker and scarier warehouse in Detroit. In both instances it seemed to be a pinnacle moment for us, as we had heard of Luke Slater for two decades leading up to seeing him, and now saw him in such real underground environments, that I feel they may never be topped. For that moment at least.

Then after that, it did that thing again, where it evolved, and it became somebody else, and so on and so on. It just keeps going. Luke Slater is just as underground as ever, and yet I will never have that chance back.

Same with seeing Solomun in that warehouse in LA, or when we didn’t get into the warehouse Derrick Carter played here in New Mexico. Different eras. Different scenes. Same idea.

I suppose my overall point is that there’s no such thing as one underground sound, but there is such thing as one underground feeling, and that’s what we have to remember, now more than ever.

If I were to tell you Solomun was underground, you’d laugh and make fun of me. He just played Coachella. But I can remember a time where nobody knew who he was, just like I can remember being the only person who knew who Derrick Carter was, and that seems so crazy to think now. Such changes happen to our culture before we even notice it.

With that I wish to say we’ve got to get back to that moment where we celebrate each other, but also where we’re honest as well. This obsession with being the best sound is taking the place of being the truest underground.

That’s why, after all my travels, and all the shows, and all the lessons I’ve learned, I’ve come to one simple conclusion. I suppose I didn’t want to see it at first, but now I know it as fact.

For New Mexico, the only true underground is local, and we’ve got to believe in that again.

Long live the underground.

A Strange occurrence happens while on the road, and you just didn’t see it when you started. You just decided to trust it. To believe in it more than you believe in yourself. It also meant risking more than you originally assumed, although looking back, I still see without hesitation that it was worth it.

Every dancefloor I found was one I was meant to find, and the ones I did not make it to, are no better or worse than the ones I ended up on. There isn’t some list, or guideline telling you how to go about it.

We’ve come far enough, however, to look back, and that is the next mountain to climb. We have to turn it into something of merit, and with that a different perspective. I feel the next step is still through education, although nobody will ever agree to it. A culture of intelligent individuals who seem stuck in their own repetitions. With the people being the most creative being left on the outside. Or are they?

I don’t feel it will ever be that simple. There are creative people on the outside, but there are also creative people on the inside. It is unfair to devalue those who have accomplished something simply because we haven’t. This is where the culture now fails itself, where we fail each other.

Realizing this failure has lead me to the conclusion that our best option moving forward is trusting the next generation of Ravers, although we must hope that’s what they remain. Ravers. I feel if we remain committed to the club mentality, we will only have club kids, and that is a completely different section of nightlife, isn’t it?

To say one is a club kid nowadays, is not a reference to Michael Alig and the club kids of NYC, although perhaps it would be better considering their commitment to theme and decadence was a form of raving all on its own. In this case my reference to club kids is a bit different, though. In this case the context is that of people in their twenties who have only experienced the idea of raves in a club or organized festival.

I feel they are given a bad rap in the grand scheme of our culture because they will never be old school, and yet still, they have the commitment in a way I don’t know if we do anymore. We love it, and it helps us to endure, but we can’t be at the show every night anymore. We can’t keep saying we belong there even though we may one day realize we never did in the first place.

The raver evolved to the festival kid, and now the club kid has a new claim to the culture. But have they earned it? Did any of us? To me it’s very similar to how trance was popular when I was a teenager, and then House, and then Dubstep, and now it’s Techno. But then again when I first heard music at a rave it wasn’t any of those sounds. It was Jungle bouncing off the walls of some random place in Santa Fe.

That was for me, though, and the next step should be for someone else. Their moment should be realized while it’s happening. I don’t feel they have all the answers, but I also know something has to come of what they’ve put into it, and I don’t feel any of us know where that goes.

With all that said we try and stay away from clubs, however impossible that may be. And lately even festivals have become too outrageous a journey to take part in. As crazy as it sounds one day you do finally have enough, and just want to sleep for a bit.

As much of an old man as I’m becoming, I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful to say I’m one of the ones who can rest. Not everybody who started this journey with me can say that. Old age is the gift for making it through, although don’t bother telling that to anybody who’s old. I think mainly we’re just sick of being old.

So as an aging raver, who’s past his prime and growing greyer by the day, I’d like to say to the kids who aren’t such kids anymore, simply this.

Be Kind, and honest. And don’t be afraid to face the truth, and yourselves, and each other. It hurts at times, but I suppose that’s part of being a grown up. A lot of stuff is gonna hurt a lot of times, and you can’t do anything but learn to live with it.

Learn to know the silent truth that you don’t get over some things, you just live with the pain of them, and the realization that to the rest of the world it just doesn’t matter. And if you don’t know what that means I guess you will one day, when you’re old and grey.

Also, enjoy the silence. Some of the realest moments in your life will happen in silence. Don’t be afraid of that. We surround ourselves with such consistent noise, that we forget the sound of our own thoughts sometimes. Experience that again every now and then.

And finally, you’ll see as you get older, it will be harder to stay true, and honest and filled with a good heart. I’ve learned perhaps that is the real test of aging.

Not just health, but also a good heart. Can you age and still keep that strong and honest intent? Can you be what you claimed you’d remain all those years ago, or will you let this life change you into something else? Will you grow or will you mutate? In the end is it possible they are both the same?

I don’t feel I am meant to have the answers to these. I think you are. So, protect your heart, stay true, and I’ll see you when your journey has lead you back to me. Whenever that may be.

– A.❤️

There’s no proper way of putting into words the way you feel when you finally go to Detroit. It’s a moment you can’t have back, and yet also an emotion you have every time you’re there. It’s like the repetition of Techno when heard in the dark warehouse.

You have to travel far and into the darkness to find it. You have to believe in it enough to ignore all the warnings signs and simply jump. You have to jump into Detroit like you have to jump into Techno. But once you do, you won’t want to climb back out.

I didn’t go to Detroit until I was an old man. Well, I shouldn’t say old, just older. Much older than when I first started listening to techno, and I suppose in rave years you could say I was slowly becoming a fossil.

Although not yet. First, I’d have to earn my Dinosaur status, and my two weekends in Detroit would help that perhaps more than any two trips in my life.

When I first heard about Movement Music Festival in Detroit it wasn’t called Movement at all. It was called DEMF. Detroit Electronic Music Festival. It was kind of just a rumor there for a bit.

Every year, in the heart of Detroit, they’d gather for a free festival to play techno all weekend long. Everybody knew about it even though so few of us had ever gone. Before anybody wanted to go to EDC, and even before Ultra got so big, we knew DEMF was out there somewhere. Waiting for us to come find it one day.

I didn’t finally find it until I was in my thirties. Married with three kids, and far past my prime, I knew this was going to be my one shot to go. So I went.

Many people ask me how I manage to balance everything and still travel, and I simply tell them the same thing. Just go get it. Don’t ask anybody for permission. Don’t wait for the right time. Don’t worry about all that other stuff. Don’t be one of those people. Just go get that shit. And when you get it. Get it again.

It’s a metaphor for life, I suppose. But I just see it like, you’ve got to one day decide if you’re gonna be that person you dreamed you’d be. Of course, make sure your bills are paid, and your children are fed and safe, and that your affairs are in order, but also be willing to go the distances others won’t. Prove to them that it can be done and show the only thing stopping them is fear. They are afraid.

I was afraid too, though. I can’t deny. Looked for any reason to back out. Any reason to not go, and yet before I knew it, the tickets were bought, the hotel was reserved, and we were on our way.

That first year was a struggle, I’ll admit, and it had so much to do with the fact that the very weekend before we were at another festival on the other side of the country. EDC. And not just EDC. Camp EDC. First time they ever had it and they absolutely had their growing pains, but so did we.

We went for the wedding of two friends who aren’t our friends anymore, and although it hurts to know that I’m also thankful we were a part of it. I gained confidence in knowing my love and I could face the things we had to that weekend and we stayed strong, together. It wasn’t the weekend we expected, but also one we chose to be a part of. It was our choice to be there.

And I’m glad we were there for them. Glad we had that chance to be part of it. We’ve walked into hotel rooms filled with the shadiest of people, and we’ve done it to save our friends, and still they stayed. They chose that over us, and we’ve got to be okay with that. We had to leave them behind before we caught our flight to Detroit. Before we were changed forever.

It was hot that first weekend. We went out expecting the cold of the Midwest and maybe some rain, and yet we got there to clear skies and heavy heat similar to what we felt in the deserts of Nevada, if you can believe that. But this was different. We weren’t going out to the Motor Speedway to hide away from the world, we were going into the city. The living, breathing, bumpin city.

I could feel the life of Detroit the minute I stepped down from the plane. It was like feeling the history of it all at once. Motown, Stevie Wonder, The Temptations, Aretha Franklin, The Belleville Three, Jeff Mills, The White Stripes, even fuckin Eminem. Detroit has produced so many original and talented artists you’d be a fool not to see how important to American Culture it really is, and not just because of Techno. Everybody loves Detroit.

The Headliners for my first time there alone were the WU TANG CLAN. All of the surviving members were gathering to celebrate the anniversary of their classic album Enter the Wu Tang: 36 Chambers, and they were doing it for Detroit. I couldn’t believe it.

I have been a massive fan of the East Coast rapping crew since I was twelve years old, and I’m even wearing a Wu Tang shirt as I write these words now. When I bought my tickets the lineup had not been released yet, and still, I could have never expected they would be on the lineup. I was going for Techno, and maybe for House, but instead I found so much more. I found my home.

That’s the first thing you should know about Movement. You’re gonna go for Techno, and then find so much more. So much more that you’re just gonna keep going all weekend long. From this stage to that stage to the afterparty, to getting ready in the hotel, to the next day and the next day, and you just keep going. Constantly dancing, constantly moving, constantly evolving with the sounds that surround you.

EDC claims to be the gathering of all the rave tribes, and it is, but I saw more people dancing at Movement than I’ll ever see at EDC. For ECD people go to watch and marvel and wander in amazement. People go to Movement to dance. Everybody dances the entire time. And it never stops.

Even as you sleep, or eat, or try to put your makeup on. Or after its over and you’re at the airport or on the plane. You find yourself dancing over and over again to that rhythm you hear only in Detroit.

And it stays with you when you get home, and you go back to your life and your job and all the other things that drive you insane. The music stays. You just have to close your eyes and you’re there again. Like you never left. Like it never stopped. Because to us it never will.

It’s not just about the music, though, although its still the best weekend of music I’ve ever had. It’s about something so much more. It’s about believing in something the rest of the world doesn’t and it’s about hanging on to that no matter what.

Through all the changes, and sorrow, and loss. So much loss. You get to a point where you wonder if the music is the only thing you will never lose. You have those thoughts more times than you want to admit, and still you carry on. You keep going. And then you get there. One day you just find it, and you didn’t even know you were searching.

There was this moment in our first year, when we were sitting in the VIP, the first time we ever bought VIP in our lives, and it was well worth it. But we were sitting there alone, my love and I, seeing the world together, still, and we met this couple that were sitting next to us, and they just started talking to us because I suppose they could tell we needed friends. That old Friendly raver mentality never goes away. You know?

So, we start talking and they’re from Canada, while that’s at least where they live now, and they start telling us that every year they meet up with all their friends at Movement. And they tell us how they’re all spread out across the world at this point, and they all live their own lives, and they all come from somewhere different, and yet still, they know to always meet up in Detroit. I think they said they had been doing it for around 17 years. It was amazing to hear.

They even introduced us to a bunch of them. All of them waving and shaking our hands and welcoming us to Detroit. I remember telling them how amazing it was they still did that, and I wish I had that too. And I remember him saying

“Well now you have us too. Now you have Detroit.”

And I just cant explain how much it meant to me that he said that, but he knows. I wondered if I’d ever have that. Friends to travel with. Friends to see the world with. Is it asking for too much

Were they like us when it first started for them? We waved goodbye as we ran off to see some DJ we loved, and they were doing the same, and we told them we’d see them again, but I also know I don’t have to. Knowing they are there is enough for me.

“Even if I never have that, I’m so happy they do.” I said to my love as we walked alone. We walked it for Techno.

That weekend changed me so profoundly that I know the person I was got left behind back there. Still back at Hart Plaza now. Like a ghost. Waiting for the music to start up again. Waiting for the movement to begin.

The next year I returned, but it was different. We weren’t alone this time. In just a year, we had found our tribe. We found our friends. Or maybe the found us? Our own group of people from all around the world. All unique, all amazing, all so capable of inspiring me every day, and all in love with the music like we are.

We went to movement together, and we celebrated in the rain, and discussed who we wanted to see, and who we didn’t, and we planned for the afterparty, and fought a little bit, and sat at breakfast together without eating a thing, and we fell asleep talking, and we shared bumps, but most of all we danced.

We danced nonstop and we did it together. At the underground stage, the pyramid stage, the stargate, the one by the riverboat, and of course that main stage. At the Heart of the city. We danced like we would never have the chance to again.

And don’t even get me started on those afterparties.

I’m not going to Movement this year. I have to miss it. I have to prove to myself it can go on without me, and yet I know it will. It will be amazing, and beautiful, and filled with the people who dared to dream of nothing else but techno.

If you’re going, please, dance for us all that can’t make the pilgrimage this time. Dance like crazy. Dance with your friends. Or Security. Or the Dj’s themselves. Dance with strangers, cause you never know. They may be the tribe you were looking for.

Next Month is Movement. And though we won’t be there this time, my friends, and my family will be. The ones who will remember this one final thing that I will never let go.

We will always have Detroit.

Our Home.

When I was in the third grade I was a bully. It’s not easy admitting it, and I know the story is far more complicated than just saying that, but I also know that in the eyes of Wherry Elementary and Albuquerque Public Schools I was listed as a bully. It didn’t matter that I was the shortest kid in the class, or that I had no friends, or even that my home life was so empty. It only mattered that I kept getting in trouble for beating up the same kid. Over and over again. It got pretty bad, to be honest.

So bad that he had to change schools. Can you believe that? I beat a kid so bad he had to leave the school. It’s not something I’m very proud of, and it’s not something I brag about at all, although, I feel it fair you know the whole story. And you can know why I had to beat him so bad.

His name was Dorian. He had glasses and he was in the boy scouts. I was a brown kid who had nobody on his side. Of course, I was the bully, right? It was a no brainer. Easy story. That’s what the school said, that’s what our parents said, of course, that’s what Dorian said.

But Dorian and I know the truth. We know what really started the violence, right? We were both there that day. The first time. He had just started school there, and we were out playing basketball at recess or something. I remember I had just scored on him, and many times when I’d score on someone, or strike him out in baseball, or even just out due him, he’d usually get mad, and that’s what happened with Dorian. He just couldn’t believe I was better than him. So, he did what they always do. He started talking shit.

Standard for a little guy like me. Most people look at me and think I’m soft, and I am. I’m a snuggly little bear, but I’m also a little bear who’s had to defend himself his entire life. Everybody wants to pick on the little guy and that’s what was happening now. Dorian was starting in on me.

First it was the standard stuff. “You’re short. Blah Blah Blah.” All that other stuff. Then he called me something I had never been called before, although I had been told this day would come.

“Well, you’re just a dirty Wetback.” He said. Right there on the basketball court. In front of my friends, in front of the other players, in front of everybody watching. He called me that. And he smiled.

As soon as he said that I grew calm, and I thought back a couple years before then. A conversation I had with my mother that was weird at the time, but I now realized was so necessary in preparation.

“Mando. One day, someone’s gonna call you a Wetback.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a dirty word. And if somebody calls you that, you punch them in the face.”

“Liz, don’t tell him that.”

“No. He needs to know. It’s gonna happen one day. And when it does, you walk right up to them, and you punch them in the face. And you make sure everybody sees it.”

“Even if it’s a girl?”

“Well, no. Don’t ever hit girls. But if it’s a boy, and he knows what he’s saying. You punch him in the face. I’ll never be mad at you for getting in trouble for that.”

That entire conversation re-played out in my head as I stood there on that basketball court, and I knew exactly what to do. As my friends grew red in shock, and Dorian smirked at what he said, knowing what he said, acknowledging this probably wasn’t even the first time, I, the smallest kid in the 3^rd grade, walked right up to him and I punched him in the fuckin nose. Hitting him so hard blood spurted out on the concrete court right there at the school.

He jumped back in shock. Fixing his glasses. Looking at me in fear, but also aware of what I just did. That first time stopped after that one punch as the bell rang just after, although it wasn’t the last time. No matter how many times I would fight back, Dorian would never stop saying racial slurs to me. It just never stopped.

What’s worse is when we’d go to the office, he wouldn’t even admit what happened. He’d say I was just attacking him. He’d play innocent. He’d deny my story. He refused to admit the words he used, even though I could never deny the violence I showed. Everybody took his side.

I’d get suspended, and detention. They even started making me see the school psychiatrist, where he’d try and understand why I was so violent. After a while I just shut down. I stopped talking to any of them. I even stopped telling my parents it was even happening. It just became normal life.

Dorian didn’t stop, though. He just kept talking shit. And it just kept getting worse. So, because of that I just kept fighting him, winning the fight every time. One time it got so bad his mom came in and spoke to me in front of the whole class. She reasoned with me to stop. She was a single mother in the military, struggling to be home. I felt great sorrow for her. I could feel how I was letting her down, and I didn’t have the heart to admit to her how much of a racist bigot her son really was. I just couldn’t be that person, even if he was.

After a while it got so bad, he just simply moved away, and I carried on. After that I stayed out of trouble, and I honestly haven’t been in really any fight since. What’s crazy is I saw Dorian again on the first day of sixth grade. A group of friends ran up to me and said Dorian was there and they encouraged me to go face him again. I suppose they expected to see a fight.

But when I got there, and I saw him, and I remembered all the things he said, I knew I had outgrown him and the abuse we did to each other. But then again, maybe he did too.

                I can remember walking up to him, and saying hello, and having him say hello back. And then we looked each other in the eye and we both silently agreed it was time to move on. We damaged each other, and for reasons that were taught to us. Not reasons of nature. Dorian is out there somewhere, and he lives with the scars of my violence like I live with the scars of his bigotry, and I realize neither of us are right.

A bully is still a bully, no matter how you try to explain it, and nothing will ever justify it. We bullied each other, and we both knew we couldn’t do it again. I walked away as my friend’s showed unhappiness for the anticlimax, but then again, they weren’t going to be my friends for much longer either. After that I don’t think I ever saw Dorian again. It just became a memory from there. A memory and a lesson.

I bring up Dorian now because I have that feeling again when somebody brings up the name Dave Decibal. I’ve never met Dave before, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him DJ either. We’ve been a part of the same scene for over twenty years and yet, for whatever reason, the only time his name gets brought up is when he’s bullying somebody else. Over and over again.

He’s bullied so many people in this scene that I don’t even think anybody knows when it started. We just know he’s always been there, doing that thing he always does. My family and friends have been on the wrong end of a Dave Decibal lie multiple times, and it’s shocking to think how many times his name has come up. How did this happen? How did we get to a point where we have let all these angry straight males have such control over our culture? How can we do better?

When trying to answer those questions, I have come to a realization that I wish to admit now. First, i’d like to say I’m sorry to Dave Decibal for bullying him and saying awful things about him. Even if I feel I am justified that doesn’t make it okay, and a bully is still a bully, no matter the reason. I made an oath to remain positive and to contribute, and attacking another member of our community, even if it was just with words, is not acceptable. BY ANY OF US.

We owe each other PEACH, LOVE, UNITY AND RESPECT, and I was not showing that to Dave. So, if Dave ever reads these words. I wish to say I am sorry, and I love you. Because loving you is better than whatever we were doing before.

Second, you’ve heard enough straight males talk about the failures and disgusting acts of other straight males. If you’ve read this far, I wish to say thank you, but I also wish to admit that the best thing Dave and I can do about this stuff sometimes is just simply shut the fuck up. We men have been damaging our culture and those in it for so long that it’s time we step back and listen and try and learn. If we want to do right by this culture, we must learn that this isn’t about us, and we aren’t the solution. But we’ve also got to stop being the problem too.

That is part of why I wish to make peace with Dave. I was reminded something yesterday, and it’s the reason I’m writing right now. Well Dave was arguing and fighting with everybody he could, I was hanging with a Sonya/ia. My wife. My partner. My best friend.

It was our first day off together in over a month, and we had both been working so hard that we truly just wanted to see each other again. Can you believe that? We like each other so much that we still miss each other like crazy, if only just for a few hours. Its weird being in love like that. You feel vulnerable, but also strong. You know there is somebody out there that has control over your heart, but you also know you have theirs in return. It’s a balancing act every day. Trying not to destroy each other while also trying to cherish one another as well.

I love her perhaps more than I did when we first met two decades ago when we went to her first rave together, and I know part of that is because we are still trying for each other. Always trying. Now, as I laid in bed with my wife, watching blade runner for the millionth time, snuggling, and smoking weed, I realized that Dave and I are probably very similar. Same age group, same place of origin, same choice in music. But there’s one thing different about us that changes everything. I have a Sonya/ia, and he doesn’t.

For every moment I’ve had in this life I know It’s been enhanced and multiplied by the fact that I have a person by my side to experience them with me. I am not alone. And sadly, Dave is. Now I don’t know Dave’s history. I don’t know if he ever had a true love. I don’t know if he’s been done wrong. I don’t even know where he’s been. Or what he’s done.

I just know he’s alone right now and I’m not, but it doesn’t have to be like that. The bully doesn’t always have to be the bully. There’s still time for us to be better. For the women in our lives. For the children who will one day be in control of our scene and our culture. For the people around us who still believe in us. It’s not too late, but at the same time, Dave and I have to admit something together.

It’s time for him and I to move on. We’ve got to get out of the way. We’ve got to let everybody else have their shot at this now. So, because of that I’m making a simple offer. If Dave deletes his twitter. I’ll delete my facebook. I’ve often thought of myself as the anti-Dave or in many ways the Dave of facebook. Whereas Dave is the Mondo Gee of Twitter. So, let’s leave together?

I’ll go back to working on my website, and supporting DJ Sonya G’s career as a renegade DJ, and he can go back to whatever he does during the day, and we can contribute to making our scene and social media a place safe from bullies again. If only just making sure two of them will stay off of it. I don’t know if he’ll ever read this, but if he does, the offer stands for the extent of our lives. When you’re ready to leave social media, so am I.

I’ve been watching a lot of Rick and Morty, and with that I see Dave isn’t the anti-Mondo, he’s just me from another universe. We live in a multiverse and there are infinite versions of us living right now. Dave and I are from different universes. In his universe he is Dave Decibal. In this universe I am Armando Gallegos.

I am grateful for the universe I am in. Grateful for my family, and my friends, and the amazing moments I’ve had in it, and I wish only for Dave to feel this love one day as well. Maybe one day he’ll find his own version of Sonya/ia out there. And maybe her name wont be Sonya, maybe he doesn’t know her name yet. And I hope you find her, Dave. Because my life gets eternally better every time I meet a Sonya/ia.

Oh yeah, I forgot to close with this moment Sonya, and I had when we were maybe twenty years old. We were up late smoking and talking in bed, like we always do, and I started telling her about a kid I’d fight a lot and how he’d call me bad names, but nobody would believe me. But that I’d beat him bad and that I felt awful about it cause I didn’t wanna fight, but I feel like I had to, based on what he was saying. And then I describe his appearance and I said some of the stuff he was calling me.

“Are you talking about Dorian?” She asked with a bit of shock.

“How do you know his name?” I replied.

“Holy crap. You were his bully?” She responded.

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“In third grade some kid named Dorian transferred to our school and he said he had to change schools cause of some bully, but after being at our school for a while he kept getting into fights there. I was a mediator, so I’d have to mediate his fights all the time with other students, and he was doing the same thing there.

He kept calling them bad names and they’d fight him. He was in mediation all the time and he was always so mean. Don’t worry. You weren’t a bully. He deserved it.”

I was stunned. Even with that moment of peace I had with Dorian in the sixth grade, that didn’t change how the school system saw me. Through the rest of my public-school life, I was deemed a bad kid and a troublemaker because of that issue Dorian, and I had. I was always inspected. Always interrogated. Always considered to be doing wrong. It weighed on me heavily, especially because I always knew the truth, even if they didn’t.

What I felt at this moment was an immediate understanding that even if the whole world thought one thing about me, somehow, by coincidence or magic, or whatever it is that happened to us, I have one person in my life that knows the truth. That knows who I really am, and she knew it even before she met me.

I know a huge reason for my success in this life is because of the impact Sonya/ia has had on me. She believes in me, she supports me, she is my partner. If you have a Sonya/ia in your life, you, like me, are one of the lucky ones. Say thank you, and I love you, and I’m sorry, and I understand, but most of all, I’m ready to try again. Keep trying over and over. No matter how many times you fail or succeed. Don’t give up on each other, or the music, or this culture, or even weirdo’s like me and Dave Decibal.

Let’s give it another shot? Let’s start again? Do you know who taught me to do that?

A Sonya/ia did.