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Junebug
For about five, maybe six years during my teenage rave days, there were always a few things you could count on when going to the function.
First, there always had to be a jungle room. Had to be. No question. It was required. I wish it was still like that. The smooth drum and bass bouncing off the walls or into the night air; everybody just bouncing around to their own rhythm and beat, as if nothing in the world would ever care more.
Second, somebody was always selling balloons. You didn’t know when or where they’d pop up, but you could always count on somebody with a tank selling 2 for 5. For some reason, no matter where I go, that’s always the price. Same in Detroit, same in LA, same in some desert in the middle of nowhere. Always 2 for 5.
Third, the music was always the priority. People want to pretend it’s about the drugs or the popularity, but back then just like now, the music and the sound always came first. Which was always understood, even for me, at such a young and naïve age when I first discovered the music in the night.
Fourth, well fourth was only true here in New Mexico, but looking back I feel it was as much a tradition as anything I have experienced since. Every year, somewhere in the deserts or mountains of New Mexico, right around a couple weeks from now, they’d have a rave known by the same exact name and nothing more: Junebug.
It’s almost time for Junebug.
Looking back, I’d say it’s been around 15-16 years since the last Junebug, a fact that hurts my heart to admit, since not only does it admit my age, but it also reminds me how long it’s been since the last one as well. Will we ever have another one again? I really couldn’t say, although, part of why I bring this up is because deep down I know, based on what has already happened, Junebug will live longer than just those few years it was around, but only if we want it to.
I didn’t go to the first Junebug. I knew it was happening, and I knew where it was, but that was when I was fifteen and still not able to find friends to go the rave with. By then I had already gone to a handful of warehouse raves, and I was hooked beyond belief. So hooked that I called the info lines and searched for fliers wherever I could. The info line is actually how I found out about Junebug, long before I saw any flyers or lineups on it.
I called a local info line, which I’d do every time I got a new flier. Just to see what it sounded like. Being fifteen, sitting in your room, smoking cigarettes you stole from you dad, calling a phone number that would give you information on an illegal gathering with drugs and music, was something that can never be duplicated or imitated. It’s starting a life I still live now. It’s deciding that yes, I am going to be that person I wanted to be. Maybe I didn’t realize that at fifteen years old, but I see it so clearly now. This was one small way I was choosing the path of my life for myself. A path that would lead me to Junebug, but not until the next year.
The first year I just heard about it, and wanted to go so bad, and dreamed of what it actually was. I had not gone to an outdoor rave yet, so I had no image to connect to it. All the ones I went to before were in some dark building downtown or up in Santa Fe. The desert raves I’d come to love were not a thing for me yet. How quickly that would change.
Just a couple weeks after my missing out on the first Junebug, I met a few people who would eventually become my rave crew, and the people I would spend the next five years going to every single rave possible with. We’d start with a couple in town, and then we went to a two-day outdoor rave called Rumors together, which would be my first outdoor rave, and after that we were hooked, all of us, together.
I spent that entire summer going to every outdoor function I could find with my friends. We went to one in a canyon up in Chama, one in Moriarty, one at the Three-Sided Hole, even one down by Socorro that got broken up. We were all over the place. It was an amazing summer that changed the rest of my life. I had music, my friends, and the rave. Will we ever need anything more?
Then the fall came, and we shifted to the warehouse functions again, as is the tradition for every New Mexico raver. Spend the fall and winter in the warehouse and the spring and summer under the stars. It’s still like that now. Some things will never change.
My first Junebug did not come till that next year in 2001, but after that I did not miss another. It was too much of a tradition to pass up. They even had a fall edition of it called Dreamscapes that I also went to every year, including that first one they had in August of 2000. Every time this group had something going on we knew it was a good time, a safe time, and some amazing music by DJ’s we loved. From that first one it was always the same. The start of the summer and the best example of how good New Mexico Raves can truly be.
After that first one I can admit they all just kind of smash together now into a giant blobby blur in my head, which is the way it should be. I have chunks that pop up from time to time and I know I’m not the only one. Here are two I can recall right now.
There was one where I was walking with my best friend at the time, and Jay Z had just released a song where he sampled the Jackson 5, and I remember saying,
“I just love how he raps like that. It’s so unique.”
“No, Mango. He didn’t invent that. He copied Snoop. Snoops been doing that for years.”
“You’re right.” I said. “But he’s the one who put it on a record.”
“True.” He said. “I heard he never writes his lyrics down. I respect that.”
“Really? Like never?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Wow. If I ever meet him, I’ll ask him that.”
We laughed as the sun rose over the desert and the DJ played this beautiful house music from the back of a uhaul van surrounded by dazed and colorful rave kids who wanted nothing more than to lose their minds.
Another time I remember I had gotten into a fight with my girl that day and I stormed off, walking the streets of Albuquerque, like I do sometimes. Like a hobo.
This time I found myself on central walking past what suddenly appeared to be a record shop popped up right across from The Copper Lounge. I knew I would’ve noticed it, so it must’ve been new, and yet as soon as I walked in, I felt I recognized it immediately.
I’d spend the rest of the day listening to records in that shop and forgetting the reason I was even mad. Eventually I’d find one that I loved, and I listened to it over and over and over again. I can still hear it in my mind. I can remember loving it so much that I wanted nothing more than to buy it, only to find out I left my wallet at home.
From there I walked straight back home just to tell my girl that I didn’t wanna fight anymore, and that I found a new record shop. I wanted to go back to get that record but instead we just got ready for the rave. Like we always do.
Later on, we’d go to Junebug together, where we’d meet up with friends and dance under the New Mexico stars all night long. It was right around the time the sun was coming up that morning, and we were all dancing together in the dirt and anonymity of our lives, that the music became soulful and smooth. New Mexico has many sounds, but to me it will always be about House music, and this moment was a reminder of that, especially because of the record the DJ played. The same record I listened to all day long in the record shop that same day. The same record that led me back home to my love, and eventually to the rave again, together.
Without any way of knowing that DJ seemed to have been sending me a message that only I could hear, and I could feel it right there as I stood on that dancefloor somewhere up in the mountains. It wasn’t just that we both picked the same song on the same day, it’s that we were all right there at that moment together, and the music was what brought us there. I remember how fresh and clean the air smelt even though there were clouds of dirt everywhere.
How is that possible?
Clean air surrounded by clouds of dirt?
Where in the world does a place like that exist?
New Mexico.
In the end, I know that stretch we had wasn’t as much about Junebug as much as it was about a time in our lives when everything just made sense. No worries, no troubles, no mayhem from the outside world. Just us, and our music, and our backpacks that we decorated just for this rave, and our friends we somehow found in all this fucked up madness we call life. Somehow, we found each other, and we did it in the desert, or the mountains, or the warehouse, and it was for the best possible reason.
Love and Music and Junebug.
When I think of Junebug, I think of the love put into it, and I think of how I felt that every time I was there. I think of the dark nights I spent in the dirt with my friends laughing and enjoying every single minute of it. I think of seeing people I hadn’t seen since before the winter. Gathering again to celebrate that we made it to another summer. I think of how far the music flew into the night air, and how nobody in the universe would ever believe all those moments were real, because they weren’t there, and for so many of us, that was enough.
I think of how much we grew, and learned, and have become the people we wanted to be, and I think of how much intent and purpose was put into every single event they had out there. They wanted us to have fun, and to be free, and to be safe, and most of all, to be together. We could feel that. I can still feel it now. All we had to do was show our love back.
By staying till the end, by helping pick up trash, by saying thank you. Thank you for the night, and for the music, and for all those years every summer when all the Rave kids knew one thing for sure, and that was enough for us. Its what got us through. It’s what helped us endure. We knew we at least had that.
We had Junebug.
It’s almost time for Junebug.
See you on the dancefloor.
Maybe Junebug again, someday?
——–Pinky Mendoza
Categories
Sunset in Detroit
The first time I heard Luciano live was at Movement, in Detroit. It was the first day of my first year, and I was so excited I suppose I could’ve seen anybody that day, and it would’ve stood out to me, although, if that’s the case why aren’t I sitting here writing about anybody else? Why aren’t they the ones I remember the most?
I must’ve seen ten DJs on that day at that festival alone, and if I have to, I can probably recall each one, but I simply don’t want to. And that’s no disrespect to them or anybody else, but rather the opposite. It’s my way of saying it was meant to be Luciano. It was meant to happen in Detroit. And it was meant to happen at Sunset. Sunset in the city at least.
There are many things about life I have found are the same no matter where you go. People like to dance, and drink, and laugh- gosh, do human beings love to laugh- and they like to feel alive. I have found these things to be common no matter where I go in this world. But, one thing that is different, everywhere I go, is the sunset. Every single time.
The Sun sets different over the Pacific Ocean, just like it sets different in the Arizona desert, or in the Rocky Mountains, or even in the center of a city with giant skyscrapers everywhere. Yes, the sun will always rise and set, but will everyday be the same? And if so, does every sunset have to be as well? This would be my first sunset in Detroit, and perhaps the most memorable I’ve ever had. So far.
Sunsets in the city are different mainly because of the skyscrapers, and I suppose that’s all relevant to how far into the sky they really are. Detroit is not the biggest city I’ve been to, and yet I’ll never say its small. It’s just Detroit. Detroit is Detroit and you are going to accept it as it is. That’s something you learn by going and experiencing it for yourself, like I was doing that hot day in May maybe about four years ago. Not a young man anymore, but also not old either. Just somewhere in the middle. Always in the middle.
I had been a fan of Luciano’s all my life, but I had no chance to ever see him. In fact, I can’t think of one single time where I even heard of him playing anywhere close to me. I’m sure he’s played closer many times before, but I come from an era where we didn’t have the internet to find everything, and even after it was there, we still took years to accept that was the new form of communication. I will always be that raver kid looking for the next flyer to tell me about the next show. Nothing will change that. It’s just we simply have to adapt now. I got to Movement by adapting.
I’m a sucker for the percussions. The mellow, dreamy, rhythmic sounds that float into the air instead of flying. It just gets to me. What I like is that when I listen and dance, I don’t have to go all out. I can stand back and groove and enjoy the surroundings and how the music is altered by every place it is played. I am allowed to enjoy it in exactly the setting and environment the DJ, and the artist who made the track intended me to hear it in. It’s an alinement of the musical planets. A sign from the universe. A gift to those of us willing to make this pilgrimage to our own Techno mecca. The place we call home. But, when we get there, we aren’t just given techno, but rather everything. We are allowed to enjoy everything. Luciano was a moment where I felt, heard, and saw everything.
I suppose the first thing I remember is getting a message on my phone that Stacey Pullen was running behind and Luciano would be taking his place, with Stacey playing right after. We really didn’t mind cause we were already expecting to see them both, and we were right behind the stage they were both about to play on, so no big deal. It happens. It was our first time at the Stargate Stage. A stage that has a magical portal all by itself, with or without the music. We were excited either way.
We wanted Stacey to be our introduction, but that’s how it goes, traffic sucks, the city and the festival are madness. Small adjustments for bigger rewards. We were still waiting in line to use the porta potty so no matter anyways, but just at that moment a man in a red leather suit walked by us without lifting his head. I could see his ponytail tied back, and I think he had earbuds on, and he just rushed by us. Not running but clearly focused and here for a different reason than we were.
“I think that’s Luciano right there.” I said.
“No.” Sonya said back.
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“Nooo.”
I don’t blame her for doubting. We weren’t used to the VIP. Movement was the first time in our lives we had ever bought VIP tickets, and I can’t even say why we did it. We just suddenly said one day, if we’re going to Detroit, we better do it in style. We better do it as VIP’s. We recently had a similar situation just happen with our future trip to Chicago, but this isn’t about Chicago. This is, again, about Detroit, and Luciano.
I laughed cause I knew it was him, but why bother? He’s clearly walking straight to the Stargate stage and that focus he had was him preparing to play. It was his safe place just like it’s our safe place. Plus, I had to pee. We both did. So, we agreed to do our business then go straight to the stargate to finally hear Luciano after all these years. Finally. Then Stacey Pullen walked by as I waited for Sonya outside after I was done. Same way Luciano was walking. Same focus, same preparation. I’m grateful to have seen that side of them both. Stacey was only minutes late and still he was prepared.
“Hey Stacey.” Somebody said as he walked by, and he hardly lifted his head. I knew what I was in for. Sonya finally came out and we walked together to the dancefloor as Luciano’s first tracks could be heard. Closer and closer we got. Louder and louder, it got. We came for techno, but for me it will always be house. And this was Luciano’s house.
The stargate stage in the two years I have gone to Movement has been the house stage. I have seen my favorite house DJ’s play their best sets at that stage, and yet, they’ll all always come second to this one. The one that cemented my love for this city. It was, again, right around sunset in the city. I don’t think it was actually sunset but as mentioned before the sunset in the city is different because of the buildings that surround you. Meaning, the minute that sun goes behind those buildings its as good as set. I mean, you’ll get another hour or two of lightness, and the sun will still be there, but you won’t see it again until the morning when you’re walking out of some afterparty you went to after the festival. Detroit is a very special place.
I can still see him up there, with his hair still tied back, his jacket off now, but still wearing leather pants. Why is that a detail I remember? Leather pants? The sound was so tribal and smooth. It was just a rhythm with layers all over it. So many layers. And you could hear every single one. If he weren’t playing vinyl, he made it clear you didn’t have to if you could make layers like that. The sounds still echo in my mind now. They always will.
He was dancing too. Not as much going all out, but just gyrating a little. He was feeling the music like we were feeling the music. As the sun crept behind the giant Detroit Motor Buildings, he held his head down and became consumed with the sound he was playing. At that moment, Luciano, the music, Detroit, and I, were one single thing. We all existed together. It was an epiphany I could not expect and yet I know was why I had come all this way. He was not from Detroit, but neither was I. This wasn’t about where we started, but rather the fact that this music brought us to this moment right here and right now, and we were having it together. As he swayed and grooved, I stood in awe, then suddenly he gave me something I will never forget.
Slowly, over a subtle rhythm the guitar solo from “Shine on you crazy diamond,” slowly came in. no words, no other sounds. Just that fucking guitar. What a song that’s always been to me. What it really means. The sorrow you feel in the guitar that David Gilmour shows for his friend who was lost, the diamond they still sing about today. It makes me want to cry just trying to explain this to you now.
The stargate, the music, the sun falling behind the buildings, the DJ, the beautiful woman by my side, the city I always dreamed of. All right there. And this song to always be a memory of what it did to me on that fateful summer day. The day the music became something more than just a reason. Or an excuse. It is life.
He played for a while more, than Stacey after him, and after Stacey was Carl Craig. We’d stay in that spot for somewhere around four to five hours without thinking twice listening to those three, and frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever have a better Sunset in my life. It will be the marker by which all sunsets after will forever be measured.
Some time later in the day I found myself dancing next to an older man, maybe ten twenty years older than me. Not an old grey man, but much further in his journey than me, and there would never be any denying that. Stacey was on now and the older dude had that same look you always have when you hear music like Stacey Pullen. His head was down, and he was nodding, and moving slowly in rhythm. He was feeling it, but so was I. We stood there and danced by each other for a bit and then he said.
“That’s why I come here. Not for Techno. This is the real sound.”
And just at that moment and at the same exact time we both said.
“House music.” In complete unison without even knowing we were gonna say it.
His eyes lit up so bright when I said it too. It was like a secret he was scared was going to die, and now in me he saw someone younger than him that knew the truth.
He gave me a fist pound and nodded, and we continued to dance there without saying a word. Eventually he’d go his way and I’d go mine, but I understood the moment immediately.
One day I’m gonna be the old man dancing by himself on the dancefloor, and if I have something to teach, and something to pass on to the young man that will replace me. I’d want him to know it’s always about one thing, and one thing only.
House music. It’s about House music. Luciano taught me that. And Detroit. We’ll always have Detroit.
See You on the Dancefloor
—- Pinky Mendoza
Categories
A beginning
It’s 11pm in a random warehouse in San Diego and it’s the weekend of what should have been Crssd 2021. This journey has become a tradition for us now, and I don’t think it will ever stop, especially after this one. No meet up at the city steps this time, though. No chicken tenders, no randomly ending up at the palms. No marveling at the beauty of the Ocean Side. No drunk loud fools. No dancing in the rain. No new merch. No festivals yet. Not yet.
It’s coming back, though. You can feel it. I can feel it. This weekend showed me that from the only place I needed to see it. From the dancefloor. We traveled so far. And waited so long for this one. So much happened to us in the year since we had been back. So many trials. So many failures. So many moments I wish I could’ve done better. The universe forced me to earn this trip back to my hometown and I could feel it at every step.
The world has changed, though, and the dancefloor is no different. Not as many people, not as loud, not as late in the night that eventually becomes the morning. We manage, though. We find each other in the fog, and in that fog we choose to dance.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to find this time, only that I was searching. I am not the person I was supposed to be, but are any of us? This world has changed our tune beyond recognition at times, and still all we are left to do is move on. So that’s what we will do. We will move on.
I had not lost myself to the dancefloor since the last crssd, when my head was full of acid and my eyes were transfixed on Dax J. It was a techno moment I will never have again, and still this one I was having a year later felt just as good, if not better. In the same green house x techno jacket I bought that day, I let myself go and became consumed by the sound that made me who I am. It never felt so good before just then. It will never feel better again.
It was like the first time, but so much more. I knew what it meant to have it taken away. I knew what it meant to risk everything to get back to it again. I still feel it now. But as I danced there in front of the speaker, lost again, just like before, something happened that I didn’t expect and yet, immediately became the message from the universe I was looking for.
As I danced and celebrated my return to the dancefloor I turned around with my back to the dj and it was at that moment I saw what really matters in this world. My friends. All there. All lost in the music themselves. All different, and unique, and special, and just as important as anyone else. All just as happy to be there. All just as damaged by the year as any of us. All having been through their own journey back to this moment. This means everything to all of us.
And just like that we all celebrated and danced together for just a little while more. We enjoyed it just a little more than ever before. More room to dance. Not as much talking on the dancefloor. Surrounded by those we loved. It was a moment I waited my entire life to have. It’s a moment I will spend my entire life trying to get back to.
Then, just as before, the music stopped and so did we. We stayed and helped clean up, and we talked, and laughed, and we made this funny dubstep song, and smoked our cigarettes and enjoyed the beautiful overcast above the San Diego skyline. Moments I just can’t believe are real, but only to those brave enough to go get them.
After that we got into our car, and ended up at a hotel, then wandering the San Diego Marina at 4am. From there we watched the sunrise from our car as we drove up the green countryside that is just too amazing to believe is real. We made it home and fell asleep just as the day was starting for the rest. Our night was upon us.
I’m not going to share every moment of this weekend just yet, because some of them I don’t even believe happened. I need to remember them a few times before I accept they really happened. But right now, as I sit in my room in the middle of the New Mexico desert, thinking about the last one and planning for the next, I can only say this.
The universe doesn’t just bring us into each other’s lives by coincidence. It doesn’t work like that. Life isn’t that simple. We found each other to help each other endure, and to live, and to dance in the darkness together. Now, more than ever, House x techno means love. It means family. It means life. It means going out there and getting that moment you always dreamed of, and when it’s over, remembering this one fact. It only matters if you have people to share it with. People to bring it home to.
Happy Crssd.
The first words of
Pinky Mendoza
March 10, 2021
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