The movie did not do the party justice nor deliver the ice of a cold blooded killer. In thoughtful discussions with my brain, I decided that the movie lacked soul. Their was no substance to the blatantly superficial club kids. Unfortunately, this pathetic subculture had some high notes, beyond drugs, that the film failed to mention. Growing up in that time period, I was a frequenter of Alig’s parties and patron of the club and rave life in NYC. I fell in love with the drug culture and the chaos of electronic music. I somehow saw something that does not last. My first glimpse of the transient. And the bitter taste of beauty overwrought with sadness. A scene.

The same, it was, as most others, sociologically. Designed under a premise. You go to the club, look fabulous and do drug after drug and listen to beat after beat. Goers are adorned in every frock and color possible and hedonism is extreme. Drug dosing on the counters and selling and buying and sex happening in front of all eyes. Something else. Overexposure can kill anything. The movie, like the scene moved in repetitious beats that never coalesced or came together. The ideas were dark and mumbled like the light before the dawn. And the conclusion was confusion. Thank god I made it another night without murder.

To thank the club gods for what they gave us Saturday morning at 11:30AM at a theater on Sunset Blvd., I moved forward in life to the next plane of existence. I got in a car and blasting bleating beats to San Diego for the next festival. This time, I trip over to Street Scene, the monster party. As big as the Gaslight district, as big as a city.

In the middle of the street, with beer splashing at my ankles, the class and ego of the New York scenester was appealing. However, I couldn’t have been in a more opposite position. With a bunch of swilling highschoolers and frat boys grooving to progressive trance savior, Christopher Lawrence, I realized the hilarious juxtaposition from the drag queens, transsexual and bridge and tunnel boys that held court at Alig’s parties. But the common denominator was the party and the music. Geographically, yes, theoretically, yes, fashionistically, definitely. Different. But the same.

Street Scene, also boasted awesome anthemy hip hop groups like 311 and Cypress Hill. Blast from the past for my old ass. And the even further past was the Allman Brothers Band with seemingly all new members featuring Warren Haynes from Govt. Mule and mainstay Greg Allman. Also, newcomer Kinky kicks ass. The make me shake my rump. Blond bimbos and surfer boys aside I saw no real strange folk or obvious drug use. So the decadence is gone the glamour is gone and now the normal people listen to techno. Life is complete.

Alas, times changes, scenes dissolve, new festivals pop up and styles, music fashion and culture evolve in relationship to its surroundings. There will never be a place like the disturbing magnetism of the New York club scene 90’s. The fact is that good music will always be available for people who want to party and when we break it down it really is a positive thing. Not every great party has to end in murder.