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Still Up For the Party? America's Dance Floors Are Graying
2000-11-22 12:28:29

Post Cards from Kakao
Ordinarily, I'd be happy to piss on you, but then some dog might think I owned you.
-- Reverend Cybersatan


Raving over 30 doesn't have to be embarassing anymore.

Once upon a time in my twenties, I could spend two to four nights a week on a dancefloor and still hold a day job.

Now that I've hit 30, I really need some rest.

A recent attempt at re-living my yonder years left me immobile most of Sunday. I forgot what happened on Monday. It was too blurry. I overslept past my alarm on Tuesday. By the afternoon, I was sliding out of my chair. I left work early and canceled evening plans.

Despite these reminders of spinal fluid running dry and bone mass atrophying, I was not alone elder among sprightly youth at that recent San Francisco party.

There, to my surprize, a good portion of the crowd was hardly of the puerile sort.

That leads me to a couple of guesses. Maybe there's an ancient rave culture in San Francisco that never burned out. Could it be that there's a scene so compelling that retiring seems unimaginable?

Okay, maybe that's a stretch. Some of the ancients I met confessed they had actually been really boring and sober until they discovered Paul Oakenfold and ecstasy. One of them said he just happen to be there via a roomate. Some had no idea what they were getting into, but they were told it would be both "tactile" and "visual" - that scantily clad glitter goddesses and fruit fairies would be at their beckon call.

One of my friends who spent most of his teens and early 20s clubbing and getting loaded claims he got it out of his system early. He wouldn't be caught doing it after 30.

"It's a mid-life crisis kind of reaction," he wrote.

While that may be, today's DJs have to deal with the fact that crowds are getting both younger as well as older. The kids may have the time and more bounce in their step, but guess who's got the money? I suspect some parties are trying to cater to these graying customers for fear of alienating the well-heeled.

You can't go to a party anymore without finding a chill-out room for resting the weary bones (in fact, whose even dancing anymore?). More mellow sounds like "Downtempo" and "Dad House" are sneaking into many a DJ mix. Shall we waltz?

Shame on these Republican-like producers! As they grow all the more crusty and dated, they worry that rock blocking BPMs will cause massive brain hemorrhaging or hearing loss.

What they might not realize is that, for most of us, it already has.

Over 25? Decided to give it up? Grab a glowcane and join the Raver Geriatrics list.

Over.  End of Story.  Go home now.

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