By Chris Riemenschneider
The fading Glowsticks, lingering daylight and souring moods tell us the party
is over. But the mud, traffic and lack of common sense won't let anyone
leave, as if the hangover must be faced now, not tomorrow.
Actually, it is tomorrow, 6:30 a.m. A girl, probably 16 or 17 years old, is
sitting in her friend's gold Saturn yelling at every straggling passer-by,
"Hey, you got any bud?" The couple in the SUV next to her have been asleep
for four hours. A quartet of half-dressed teen-age boys walk down the row of
cars for the third or fourth time. Two of them have pacifiers stuffed in
their mouths, a common sight here.
"I thought we parked up there more, by those trees," one of them says,
pointing.
"Mmmmm am-um mur," his friend hotheadedly replies, obviously placing a curse
word in there somewhere.
Hard to believe that three or four hours earlier, these kids -- 20,000 of
them -- were in sheer heaven. Actually, that's not hard to believe if you
were there. On the inside, Austin's biggest rave party ever -- the Electric
Daisy Carnival -- was an all-out success, an absolute high for a generation
on the lookout for the unconventional and spontaneous. Outside, though, it
came crashing to a filthy, stagnant end. Now, like Woodstock '99, every
positive note the event delivered will be overshadowed in a ring of
complaints and older people saying, "What's wrong with those kids?"
You have to feel a little sorry for them. Today's youths can't throw a party
without someone slapping a sneaker logo on it. They can't go to a regular old
concert venue without knowing their parents were there a week earlier to see
Don Henley or Tom Petty. And what is it about the mud? They're always getting
coated in the stuff.
Even though thousands got stuck in the mucky parking lots as Saturday turned
to Sunday, a person would have to be a stick in the mud to say the Electric
Daisy Carnival didn't start out dazzling.
Stretched out over five stages, with a cluster of carnival rides and
laser-light towers in between, the event was part Livestock & Rodeo Show,
only with fluorescent-clad kids as cattle, and a lot more people staring at
the rides than riding them; part urban dance floor, with Studio 54-worthy
wild attire all around and props right out of "A Clockwork Orange"; and part
big, dumb rock concert, but with headlining acts that wouldn't mean a thing
to anyone who still thinks the guitar is a cool instrument.
To underground dance fans, the lineup was a coup. Organizers snagged some
major international names who had never been to Austin, including U.K. jungle
music kingpin Roni Size and his collaborators Krust and Dynamite MC. Also on
stage were Native Tongue rapper Mos Def, freakshow act Rabbit in the Moon,
Darren Emerson, Green Velvet, King Britt, Dave Ralph, Dieselboy, Andy C. and
MC GQ, plus a couple dozen more.
The talent, production and hype were enough to draw music fans from outside
Texas.
"I never would've thought Austin or anywhere in Texas would put together
something like this," said an awe-struck David Lonely, 20, who drove two days
from San Diego for the event.
Actually, for a state well steeped in psychedelia and crisscrossing musical
genres, the carnival fit right in. Many of the acts were far more than just
DJs spinning records, ho hum.
New York's Mos Def proved himself one of hip-hop's most cutting-edge
lyricists with his charged 11 p.m. set. Green Velvet, a Chicago house
producer who performed with a collaborator under a flowery haze in the Daisy
Tent, reinvented techno's classic synthesizer sound by melding it with hyper,
futuristic vocals -- like a high-strung Tricky.
Not all the players were as inventive, though. Rabbit in the Moon came on
like Gwar with samplers. Among the gimmicks the Orlando duo used on stage
were a flamethrower, neon spider, Chinese dragon and lots of fireworks.
Meanwhile, their jittery, New Agey brand of dance music lagged in the
background. Another Florida performer featured on the main stage, wigged-out
spinner Monk, offered an uninventive drum-and-bass sound that felt like
classic-rock at this futuristic event.
Fans who weren't enjoying the main-stage act had the freedom to roam to the
other stages, all under large tents, and all as sweaty as any indoor dance
floor. Inside, rings broke out in the crowd where break-dancers strutted
their stuff. Friends spun Glowsticks and other colorful psychedelic gear in
each other's faces -- some probably on something, but some also just
pretending to be.
"I think it's the best one I've been to yet," said Jimmy Mulberger, who has
attended most of Austin's other giant raves. Dancing inside the
pillar-adorned Roman Tent during Andy C and MC GQ's frantically paced hip-hop
set, Mulberger beamed, "I'm feeling it."
It was easy to get swept up in the energy of the carnival -- or "the Daisy
juice," as one fan put it --whether you were on a caffeine high or something
stronger. It was also easy to feel the mood slowly starting to change as the
night wore on. More and more fans could be seen bending over dizzily to catch
their breath as the night wore on. A few were throwing up. Mind you, no
alcohol or food were on sale at the 12-hour event.
As the traffic levee finally starts to break just a bit, several car owners
begin to stockpile the colorful fliers that were handed out in mass
quantities at the exit gates. Not even looking at who or what is listed on
these promos for future dance parties, they place them under their tires.
They're not making a statement, mind you. They're just trying to get out of
the mud.
You may contact Chris Riemenschneider at criemenschneider@statesman.com or
call 445-3607.
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American-Statesman Staff
Tuesday, May 8, 2001