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Subject: Electric Dreams, 12/98 #2

ELECTRIC DREAMS
The Wide World of Parties
December 1998, #2

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1998 - THE YEAR IN PARTIES
By Alan Brown

Sometime around last January I lit the fuse on a rocket to partyland and
blasted off into the glitter dust.  With an oink, a squeal and a sniff
or two, this party hog decided that 1998 was all for the taking.  I
wanted to gobble up all the fabulous party energy that I possibly
could.  Aside from the vague notion that I've grown more and more to
resemble the potted plant in my office, it was a helluva journey through
stately ballrooms, seaside vistas and a few dilapidated warehouses.  And
what a spectacular year it was, all at once trashy and glamorous,
overcrowded and intimate, inspiring and superficial, fun, tiresome, and
occasionally revelationary.  In terms of the parties themselves, there
were a few real barn burners, a couple of snoozers, and the inevitable
train wreck or two.

After diving in to some sixty dance parties over about two dozen party
weekends, I can reassure even the most stalwart assimilationists that
there is nothing at all "post-fabulous" about gay culture, despite the
dreary predictions.  In fact, the whole post-gay discussion grew a bit
academic as the year wore on.  It's just hard to imagine how we all
might disappear into mainstream culture when Frances Joli is belting out
"Come To Me" for an adoring crowd of 8,000 revelers on a hot summer
night in New York, or when a drag party called "Nine Inch Heels" in
Athens, Georgia raises $15,000 for local AIDS services.

1998 was a year of serenity before Millenium-anxiety grips the world and
paralyzes DJs and promoters.  It was the year that Victor Calderone, Joe
D'Espinosa, Mark Vallese, Neil Lewis, and Monty Q. broke into the top
tier of live DJs.  It was the year that the Saint At Large threw out the
old DJs and brought in the young ones--and then hired the old ones back
again.  It was the year that Robert Vezina, founder of the Black & Blue
Party and the perhaps the world's most ambitious party promoter, was
spotted taping up promotional posters for the 1999 Black & Blue Party at
the 1998 Black & Blue Party.  It was the year that the innovative dance
group Na Lei Hulu I Ka Wekiu staged a triumphal return to the Halloween
Party in New Orleans.  It was the year that the Steel Party Pittsburgh
and the Fire & Ice Party in Phoenix disappeared from the schedule, while
the Black Ball in Miami, IndepenDance in Dallas, and the Hope Weekend in
Boston debuted.  It was the year that a cab driver in Palm Springs said
that Jeffrey Sanker's White Party weekend is bigger than the IBM
convention.

It was the year that dance music cycled back on itself with a voracious
appetite, spitting out remakes, remixes, and shameless bootlegs of old
chestnuts like "If You Could Read My Mind," "Close To You," "Dream
Weaver," "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You," "Climb Every Mountain," "Disco
Inferno," "Found A Cure," "What A Fool Believes," and even "Evergreen."
It was the year that filmmakers and authors tried to cash in on fond
memories of the disco era with a deluge of thematic books and movies,
while classic dance music returned to the radio air waves.  It was the
year that Montreal filmmaker Jose Torrealba finished his documentary
about the party circuit, "Got2BeThere," while other filmmakers announced
plans for other documentaries and movies based on the party scene.

Overseas, it was the year that ambitious promoters from Europe and the
U.S. over-estimated the party appetite of athletes and visitors to the
Gay Games in Amsterdam, while local clubs cleaned up.  It was the year
that Ibiza, Spain proved once again why it is the summertime party
capital of the world.  It was the year that all four DJs at the Hero
Party in Auckland, New Zealand, playing in two-hour rotations, managed
to play the same remix of "Joy" by Staxx.  It was the year that Air New
Zealand unknowingly produced a splendid circuit brunch in their sleek
new First Class Lounge at the Auckland airport on the morning after the
Hero Party.  It was the year that the promoters of the Unity Party in
Madrid, Spain listed their event on the Circuit Noize Interactive web
site.  It was the year that gay and lesbian police officers marched--in
uniform--in the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade, to the wild
cheers of a half million onlookers and to the amazement of a national TV
audience.

It was the year that circuit boys marched in lockstep to the whims of
fashion eyewear.  It was the year that you could eat, sleep, party,
work, and travel to outer space in the same clothes from LA Sporting
Club.  It was (another) year of circus toys on the dance floor.  It was
the year that Christian Hart, improbably, flew a radio controlled helium
dirigible over the dance floor at the LAone party in Los Angeles,
causing a deep stir of confusion, jealousy, and a small dose of
Hindenburg-panic.

It was the year that a few irate partiers learned how to put a quarter
into the pay phone and dial up the Fire Marshall.  It was the year that
Viagra hit the dance floor.  It was the year that ambulances carted off
alarming numbers of partiers from clubs and special events.  It was the
year that Renewtrient, Revivarant, and Blue Nitro began flying off the
shelves at health food stores with a reputation that they don't
deserve.  It was the year that results of a new study suggested that
ecstasy may cause long-term brain damage and that a whole generation of
ravers, club kids, and circuit boys might develop a range of disorders
later in life.

It was the year that GMHC, pounded again by media criticism over drug
use at the Morning Party, finally canceled the event at a meeting just
last week.  Rest in peace, our beloved Morning Party.

As the lyrics to "Forever And A Day" suggest, "Sometimes you've got to
lose yourself to find yourself."  Some would say that things are
spinning out of control, but I think that 1998 was the year that the
party sub-culture began to grow up.  While legions of partied-out men
left the dance floor for less taxing pursuits, another generation of
energetic dancers entered the scene wide-eyed and with fresh
expectations.  After yet another wave of unwanted media attention, 1998
was the year that people figured out that, like it or not, we can all
probably live with the party scene as an element of gay culture, even
though it could be a safer place.

In 1998 I learned that gay celebration means very different things to
different people; that partying has evolved into a world sport; that
anyone who identifies with the party energy is welcome to it; and that
the social, political, sexual, and cultural bonds that stitch us
together are far stronger than the unhealthy attitudes and health risks
that might tear us apart.

Top Five Parties of 1998

1998 Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras Party
February 28, 1998 at the Royal Showgrounds, Sydney, Australia
DJs Warren Gluck, Steve Carley, and others; lights by Steven Hales and
Allan Parkinson
Produced by the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras Committee, under the
direction of Gary Leeson, Party Director

The entire city of Sydney, Australia came to a grinding halt on Feb. 28
for the 20th anniversary of the legendary gay and lesbian civil rights
demonstration that grew into one of the world's great cultural events,
the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras.  On that morning, the Sydney
Morning Herald published "Pride and Prejudice," a definitive history of
the struggle for gay rights in Australia--linking the Mardi Gras event
to the on-going battle for equality, and setting a compelling historical
backdrop for the evening's festivities.  Even the observation deck of
the space needle towering over downtown Sydney was illuminated in
lavender, giving the city a sort of architectural tiara.  The streets
were clogged by mid-day, and by the time the dykes on bikes raced up
Oxford Street after dark, the whole city seemed ready to come unglued.
After the parade, over 22,000 attended the all-night Mardi Gras Party,
and the energy was electric.  No less than seven fully costumed,
choreographed production numbers were seamlessly integrated into the
program, including live performances by Kylie and Danni Minogue.  Both
Warren Gluck and Steve Carley captured the sense of occasion perfectly.
By 10:00 a.m., the room was still packed.  Jimmy Sommerville stood on
stage alone at the very end, draped only in a rainbow flag, and
unleashed a version of "Never Can Say Goodbye" that will live for the
ages.  It was one of the great parties of all time.

Afterglow III:  Ascension
January 17, 1998 at Octagon, New York City
DJ Lawrence Needham; lights by Richard Sabala
Produced by Morningstarr Productions

This party was notable for its overall conceptual elegance, followed
through meticulously from the earliest invitation to the last thank-you
letter, and as a fine example of artistic collaboration.  The ultimate
boutique party, Afterglow was created to showcase the combined talents
of Needham and Sabala.  In their third edition of the party, the
producers set a high standard for the care and comfort of their guests
(e.g., strictly limited capacity, resplendent flower arrangements by Jim
Cox, discreetly attended bathrooms, ambient lighting that never gets in
your eyes).  Guests were greeted with the elegant scent of white lilies,
and the club was as clean at the end of the 14-hour party as it was at
the beginning.  The creative team reached new heights.  After weeks of
preparation, Needham delivered the performance of his career, building
ever so steadily to an intense peak at 5:30 a.m., and winding down
gently through morning music and sleaze to a series of encores at 1:00
in the afternoon.  Sabala proved a formidable partner to Needham's
architecture, transcribing the music into a real time synesthesia of
lighting effects as if the two artists had been rehearsing together for
months.  The room became a laboratory for classic dance energy.

Mousse (The 6th annual Foam Party)
July 30, 1998 at the Mad Club, Lausanne, Switzerland
DJ Charles Schillings (Paris)
Produced by Jungle

It's almost impossible not to giggle when you're up to your neck in foam
and the guys next to you have completely disappeared.  What goes on
under the foam is not hard to figure out, but best left to the
imagination.  Unless, of course, you get hosed off, which tends to
happen just when things heat up.  And so it goes at one of Europe's
funnest (and funniest) parties, known simply as Mousse.  Early in the
evening, one could've mistaken this event for a cookbook circuit party,
save for a few curiosities.  First, everyone was dressed for total
immersion.  No fancy Adidas duds here, all clothing was disposable.
Second, having girded my ear drums for a lethal dose of techno, the DJ
Charles Schillings from Paris served up a delicious, straightforward
program of funky New York house music that grew more and more improbable
(and fabulous) as the night progressed.  And finally, a palpable
anticipation laced the air.  Veterans of the party danced smugly with a
knowing grin, while first-timers waited nervously for an uncertain
baptism.  With a loud roar at around 1:00 a.m. (in three or four
languages) a huge pipe that had been dangling ominously over the dance
floor all night began spewing a thick white foam.  (The metaphor was not
missed, thank you.) You'd think that Elvis had appeared, for the way
people were jumping up and down and wrapping smiles around their faces.
What a blast!

LAone
May 31, 1998 at the Mayan Theatre, Los Angeles
DJ Mike Duretto
Produced by the LAone Committee

Just when I thought I'd seen the last cute party boy in Miami, New York,
or Sydney, all past visions flew out the window.  A sort of sinking
feeling came over me as I edged onto the packed dance floor at the LAone
party over Memorial Day weekend in Los Angeles.  "Remain calm at all
costs," I thought.  Conversation became superfluous as glints of colored
light danced off a sea of sculpted pecs, lats and abs.  Not a hair in
sight.  Agog at the sheer density of beefcake, I retreated to the
balcony for a breather, feeling like a featherweight all over again.
How is it that so many impossibly gorgeous men could congregate in one
place?  Disbelief was my first reaction, then numbness, and a then sort
of indulgent satisfaction.  Say what you might about dancing gym
bunnies, steroids, and the cult of masculinity; the product of this
culture is sure pretty to look at, dance next to, and even share a
little razor burn with.  Just when I grew tired staring into the bulging
shoulders of some guy whose neck is larger than my leg, the hosts passed
out boxes of little wiggly fiber optic flashlights appropriate for ages
4 to 6.  As this poetic moment of disco justice unfolded, the children
within these sexy men turned into larger-than-life adults holding circus
toys.  God bless Los Angeles.

Le Bal Grotesque
October 31, 1998 at Esplanade Wharf, New Orleans
DJ Julian Marsh; with a live performance by Na Lei Hulu I Ka Wekiu
Produced by Halloween in New Orleans, Inc.

When 7,000 gay men and their friends invest weeks of preparation in
crafting elaborate costumes, many of them in large groups, it's hard not
to regain a little faith in the gay spirit.  The result is an outpouring
of refined, raw, and sometimes reluctant creativity that is hard to
match anywhere, and reminiscent of a not-too-distant time when self
expression was valued over conformity.  In 15 years, the volunteer
producers of the Halloween Party in New Orleans have nurtured along a
simple idea for a local fundraising event into one of the signature
party weekends in the U.S., without compromising the organic feel of the
event.  During the early part of the Saturday night party, organizers
rounded up groups of revelers on the dance floor and ushered them over
to a large stage at the front of the room, where they strutted, preened,
posed, and generally worked their costumes in front of an appreciative
throng.  Everyone was a star.  The entire weekend was notable for its
interesting venues, highly creative promotion (including a smashing web
site), and superb organization.

The Train Wreck Award

Encore
September 6, 1998 at the Palace, Hollywood
DJs Victor Calderone and Julian Marsh
Produced by Jeffrey Sanker Enterprises

Just as the crowd was getting really torqued up at Jeffrey Sanker's
Labor Day weekend blow out at the Palace, an anonymous caller put 25
cents in a pay phone across the street and rang up the Fire Marshall.
Shortly after 1:00 a.m., the Fire Marshall came, photographed the club,
closed it down, and left Sanker with an expensive citation.  A gaggle of
dazed and confused party boys spilled out onto the streets of Hollywood
with an unexpected disco dilemma.  Refunds were issued only to ticket
holders who were never admitted to the club.  Though Sanker still holds
that the club was not over capacity, some guests later complained of
overcrowded conditions and poor ventilation in a blast of nasty e-mail.
To his credit, Sanker staged a promotional blitz for a free party the
next night with Calderone.

A Copyright 1998 by Party Planet, Inc., All Rights Reserved
Alan Brown, Publisher

--
Electric Dreams
The World Wide Party Club
www.gaycelebration.com

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