Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Life is peaceful on Maryam Hjersted's farm these days.
At a glance, Hjersted's farm is like any other: grizzled cats and dogs roam the driveway, portentous barns cling to their golden years and endless acres of land sprawl into the horizon.
But the tribal graffiti on the south side of Hjersted's barn is a dead giveaway to the farm's fabled past - as one of Lawrence's premier rave - ahem, "event" - spots.
"I believe that word is illegal now," joked Hjersted, the uber-cool mom who loaned her 160 acres to her son Tim and his Tribal Vision crew for nearly a dozen of the biggest parties rural Lawrence has likely ever hosted.
Anyone picking up a glossy Tribal Vision handbill knew exactly what to expect: all-night dancing under the stars, an insanely loud PA system, bonfires, drum circles and the occasionally tripped-out lighting rig. Most importantly: no cover charge.
But last summer was the last straw of the ol' farm's love affair with the neo-hippie kids.
"I get a call from Tim asking 'Hey, can I do a party tonight?' and I come home and there's semis in the driveway," Maryam said. Eight hundred kids were soon there for the "Babylon" party. Later, so were the county police.
"We had calls from over a mile away that the windows were shaking."
Nothing to rave about
It's not cool to say the "r" word these days.
Sure, there are still plenty of "events" and "parties." But the days of breaking into a warehouse and running three generators to blow the living snot of people's ears have come and gone. In their place: actual venues, drink specials, ladies' nights and Red Bull sponsorships.
"I hate to say this - because it's kind of discouraging - but we're playing wherever we can," says J. Phoenix, a live PA specialist and music producer who came of age in the Lawrence/KC rave scene.
"Everybody wants to be the guy that's got their name on the flyer, and everybody wants to be the guy that's throwing the party," Phoenix said. "It's just difficult to nail down the venue."
It wasn't always so difficult, of course. There was a time when warehouse managers were more than happy to split town for the weekend in exchange for a month's rent. But that was before the "Dateline" specials and magazine exposes that linked electronic music to recreational drug use.
"Once it was public what a rave was you couldn't go up to a venue owner and say, 'I want to throw an electronic music event,'" Phoenix said. "Overnight all these opportunities that we used to have just dried up and evaporated."
By the time the RAVE Act rolled out in June 2002, music promoters, venue managers and land owners had as much to lose as the so-called "E-tards" (for their use of the drug, ecstasy) who were giving the scene a bad name. Thus began the exodus out of the underground.
Audio interviews
"Once the cops started showing up, everything had to be legit, so we'd start having to go into legitimate venues: The Granada, The Bottleneck, Last Call," Phoenix said.
"We started looking for clubs that had the facilities already in place to hold a large number of people ... where the cops wouldn't just knock on the door and be like, 'Hey, you bunch of stupid kids - everybody out.'"
Sound tribeTo anyone who attended Tribal Vision's farm parties, the notion of raves being synonymous with debauchery was more of a running gag than a reality. Mother Hjersted kept a strict "if I see it you're out of here" policy, and the number of recreational drug users was likely eclipsed by the number of recycling and parking volunteers.
Still, liability concerns eventually forced the Hjersted's to put a moratorium on the shindigs - a decision made easier by the fact that Tim Hjersted and his friends were already scheming a move into the Mass. St. club scene.
"I think more and more electronic culture is moving away from the rave scene," said Hjersted, who now devotes his efforts to Inertia, a weekly "electronic dance-party" on Friday nights at Vermont St. BBQ.
Tim Hjersted with his mom Maryam out her barn, which has hosted several parties. As the parties grew, they were moved outside the Hjersted's home. (see below)
While Inertia's first month pulled in respectable crowds or 60-100 people or so, Hjersted is quickly discovering that techno nights - no matter how discerning the music selection - can be a tough sell.
Hjersted attributes some people's skepticism to the misrepresentation of techno music in the media - car commercials for instance - and Top 40 radio.
"If they haven't heard it very much they think it's the really commercial clubby kind," he said. "The music I tend towards is more organic, song-structured techno ... funky and very danceable."
Law of inertia
Inertia draws from a pool of respected area DJs that includes Tribal Vision alumni like Alan Paul, Andrew Boie and Sydeburnz. Local scenesters like Brent Lippincott (aka Candlewax) of Datura Records and Edwin Morales (aka Konsept) of Downplay Productions have also performed DJ sets, and live electronica acts like DJNOTADJ and E.V.A.C. may soon follow.
In the opinion of Morales, Vermont St. BBQ is simply one link in a chain of local establishments jumping on the electronic music nightlife bandwagon (he cites The Granada, Fatso's, It's Brothers, Wa and now-defunct Varsity theater as examples).
"It took a long time for any legitimate club to want to house an electronic music night because of the fact that electronic music was 'related to drugs,'" said Morales, who earned his promoter stripes in the rave scene. "Nowadays it's funny, because what venue hasn't?"
Morales said he experienced the consequences of these stereotypes firsthand when he booked a rave at Abe and Jake's Landing a couple years back.
Josh Washburn, Rachel Scialabba and Taylor M., rave at Last Call. On Sept. 5, 2007, Lawrence city leaders took the first steps to have the license of the controversial downtown nightclub revoked by state regulators.
"They didn't want 'a bunch of underage kids dancing to drug music' - that was a direct quote from the woman who used to run the place," he said. "We had to have several different meetings; I had to have my attorney there; we had to take out an insurance policy - all this crazy shit just to convince them."
Morales characterized Inertia's goals as "ambitious," citing the difficulties associated with establishing a consistent clientele for weekly club nights (something his other weekly venture NEON has done extremely well).
"At first I admit I was a little skeptical, but everybody was skeptical the first time people came to The Pool Room for Project Groove, too," said Morales, who recently put the axe on Project Groove to focus on regional and tour booking. "Every city seems to have at least one successful electronic music-supported night ... I think they see that there's a gap there now."
Not that Hjersted's deluding himself into thinking it'll be a cinch.
"It's amazing how events are based on cool factor," he said. "It's not cool until everyone's there, but you have to get people there to make it cool."
I (still) want candy
For techno lovers who grew up attending the Tribal Vision parties, Inertia represents a new opportunity to rediscover the music that defined their transition to adulthood.
"There's elements of rave culture (at Inertia), but it's more driven towards the music," said Jessi Hofman, a Tribal Vision veteran who helps with promotions when she's not working on her degree at KU. "These are records that, unless you're into record hunting, you can't find."
As rave music evolves, the genre's cultural indicators also evolve. Fashions that were once commonplace - exceedingly baggy pants, pacifiers, blinking lights, candy necklaces - are on the verge of becoming retro.
"Every once in awhile there will be an event where people will bust out their old candy gear for the right DJ," says Jason Peters, aka DJ Sydeburnz.
"I think it's good to know where you came from," he added. "If people try to ignore the fact of how we used to dress I think they're fooling themselves."
At 34 years of age, Peters could be considered a town elder in a scene that typically caters to older teens and 20-somethings. Rather than downplay his age, Peters takes pride in his ability to do it with grace.
"I think everybody who comes into the scene goes through a learning stage," he said. "As I'm getting older and knowing that I'm going to be staying here, my main concern is trying to accomplish as many things as possible to keep things going."







Comments
lawrence.com does not necessarily agree with comments posted below - responsibility lies with the relevant user alone. Read our full policy.
murderama (Rob Gillaspie) says...
It's still just fucking rave, which s like Disco for hippies. LAME!
April 16, 2005 at 3:38 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
tribalzendancer (Tim Hjersted) says...
well that was a brilliant comment. anyway, looking forward to coming down this week, you're honestly not going to hear music like this anywhere else in lawrence. I've been looking forward to Alan Paul's set next week for a while. respect*
April 28, 2005 at 12:04 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )