That is real?
In today's vacant boom cycle, a mall-rat paradise shellacked with the glitz of daydream optimism, chock full of e-life, e-success and vanity, what is real?
Is the nightclub a place to dance or a place to mate, a place to open up or a place to conceal? What is it, exactly, but Armani and Prada and sexual frustration and a big sign that says "Nobody Under 18 Admitted?" Even if it feels real, does it matter?
Perhaps. To a growing number of people, including many Duke students, rave culture is real culture. For the uninformed, a rave is an all-night party fueled by loud electronic music and a variety of hallucinogenic drugs. And at the crux of this subcultural scene lies an event called First Friday, held on the first Friday of every month at a club called Babylon in the stately downtown district of Greensboro. The event, which lasts from 10 pm to 6 in the morning, has become well-known throughout the entire Southeast.
History
First Friday was the brainchild of a man named Ed LeBrun. A local DJ and record store owner, LeBrun quickly gained national notoriety because of his keen ear for DJing talent and for his ability to effectively promote it, often providing the springboard for a DJ's successful career in the music business. As time went by, First Friday became more and more popular. At the same time, Ed LeBrun became a legend.
On August 16, Ed LeBrun was murdered in his home in the Sunset Hills neighborhood of Greensboro. The slaying was brutal-with his hands tied behind his back, LeBrun was stabbed at least 12 times in the neck and chest. The news came as a terrible shock to the many, many people whose lives he had touched.
Shortly after his death, rumors began to surround LeBrun's slaying-that it was a direct extension of his place in the underground scene, that it was drug-related, that it was a hate crime based on his homosexuality. Three suspects are currently being held, charged with first-degree murder.
"From what I've heard... it seems like these guys had been breaking into a bunch of houses and [the police] kind of caught them through all of their errors, and so it may be a random act of violence," said Mark Cassel, a close friend of LeBrun's who has since taken over as the promoter of First Friday. "With regard to the rumors, nobody deserves to die at all, much less like that."
Cassel is known on the rave circuit by his DJ moniker, Vivid, and has been an important part of the scene for about four years and at First Friday for about two. Originally from Manchester, England, Cassel attended Wake Forest University and got to know First Friday as a partygoer, then as a DJ. The future of First Friday is now in his hands.
Babylon
Still residing in the dingy brick-and-concrete confines of the Babylon club, First Friday makes up in enthusiasm and DJ lineup what it lacks in structural ambiance. For these and other reasons, the event remains at the pinnacle of North Carolina's rave culture, more vital and exciting-and almost as expensive ($20)-as any amphitheater event.
Perhaps what makes this culture relevant today is not that it is new but that it is both tangible and participatory, two things sorely lacking in much of American life. Like the best of art, it demands involvement. Not only can it not be fully experienced passively,
"Raves are different depending on where you go. You have to go with a bunch of friends," said one male Duke student who frequents First Friday. "I'm not your typical raver, but it's just a fun party. I go and have guys massage me and girls kiss me at the same time. You completely leave the rest of the world."
Babylon is a two-story building. Downstairs is the main floor area, where the primary action takes place and the main DJs spin house music. Upstairs is a lounge-like area where DJs spin a variety of different vibes, at a decidedly lower volume level, and where partiers find respite from the frenetic dancing of the main stage. In all, as many as 850 ravers can attend a First Friday, although the average is around 700, according to Cassel.
A commonly uttered buzz world in the scene is PLUR, which stands for Peace, Love, Unity and Respect. The acronym serves as a reminder to the clubgoers of an ideal, a social condition full of hope that, for the most part, exists within the subculture.
"There's this peace that everyone finds there," said another female Duke student. "There's a quiet in between it all. You experience so much closeness with random people. People go to have something completely different than everyday life. The coldness and inhibitions are gone. There's a common tie between everyone. I've never seen fights there. It doesn't happen normally.
"There's no pretension, no black pants, no aesthetic consciousness."
Music
At the undercurrent of it all is the music itself, which at First Friday is first-rate. DJs like Vivid do more than play songs or even create them. Their music is a narrative, focused yet free, funneling this teeming mass of anxious bodies through a story with no end. Like a classical symphony, it has movements, textures and moods, at one moment lulling and placid, the next ecstatic and effluvial. The people aren't just there to dance or listen-they are there to follow.
"The music is a mirror of your roll [drug lingo for taking ecstasy]. Even if you aren't rolling, it's a mirror of what you feel like. When the music's pumping you feel like you're gonna fly. You stop, and breathe and then it builds. If it kept going without a pause, you wouldn't be able to handle it," said one Duke raver.
"On the dance floor you focus on people's eyes. I feel like I can see through them. I don't know what people's lives are like outside of the rave. But inside, everyone's always happy. The day after you're exhausted. You don't really eat anything. You just feel drained. It's depressing a few days after."
First Friday is fueled by a genre of music known as "progressive house." The music has relatively few words and is marked by its seamless mixes from one song to the next. The best DJs can literally manipulate the crowd, using both the music and a litany of different colored lights and lasers to control the enraptured gyrations on the dancefloor.
There are lots and lots of bodies. They turn and sweep and crouch and shudder all over the dance floor, bits of them glowing like last decade's radioactive bad dreams. They drip like spilled gasoline over the sofas and floors, onto the walls and into each other's
A tall, beautiful girl stands near the railing on the dance floor, her head lolling as if on a breeze. Two shirtless boys hold up her arms like a crucifix, running their fingers over hers, up her forearms and over the ridges of her elbows. Behind her, another girl, less beautiful, kneads her naked back with both hands. A chubby, mousy-haired girl huddles over a boy on the floor, tongue lapping at his swollen, insistent lips. A waifish, sandy-blonde guy sits on a ledge, staring. His friend has a glowstick in each hand. He mesmerizes his audience of one, culling unseen patterns from thin air. People snort things out of little canisters; the cops in the corners of the room stare at the ceiling.
In Babylon, lines are fuzzy. Beautiful girls snack on the lust of awkward, acned youths who don't get a second look on prom night. Likewise, several heavy girls clamber atop young Adonises who then receive like Venus herself. Boys suck on boys and girls are itching to taste girls.
This is Babylon. This is First Friday.
Ecstasy (the drug)
One of the main reasons that the environment is so libidinously charged is, well, drugs. There's no avoiding it-raves and drugs are inherently linked. And the drug of choice is ecstasy, a drug that seizes the brain's dopamine receptors and virtually guarantees a sensation that embodies its name.
"You start to feel the effects about a half an hour after it starts. If you take a different pill, you get different effects. The sensation of a pacifier is amazing. Everything feels amazing. Kissing is phenomenal," said a female Dukie who takes ecstasy to enhance the raving experience.
"You need something in your mouth or else your jaw starts quivering. I never get lockjaw because I'm usually kissing someone. Vicks inhalers are amazing. They make your whole body tingle. You put it in your mouth and blow it in people's eyes. Your eyes take it in and you feel a sensation in your whole body. The parts of your body where you put the Vicks start to tingle."
Another female Duke student had a different experience, however: "Friday we did it and I thought I was going to die. This shithead said to me, 'The rolls you'll be taking are a little smacky [laced with heroin], so you might get sick.' It's all about your mindset. I was freaking out after he said that.
"I sat in the corner wondering, 'Why aren't I happy? I need a hug.'
"At first I got depressed. I felt like I was popping out of my head. I had my hand on [her friend's] foot. I was shaking and having convulsions. This random guy just sat with me, rubbing my back. Then I started hooking up with him cause my mouth was getting really dry. You just have to be doing something with your mouth. You kiss everybody-gay guys, straight guys. You just want to kiss people, but you're not going to end up with some gross guy.
"I have this sweat fetish when I'm rolling. Usually I hate sweat. All I kept saying was, 'I love the sweat! I need sweat! Find me a guy who's sweating!' It was so gross. I was rubbing my face on people's sweaty necks. I spent $70 on water, not to drink, but to have people pour on me all night. I had the mindset of a four-year-old. I was acting like a kid in a toy store, 'Pour water on me,
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