Having fully recovered from my fourth ARC Music Festival weekend, I find myself experiencing collisions of several profound emotions, so much so that it compelled me to write. First, there’s a deep desire for more, more house, more techno, and more big sound in the sunshine. Second, an insatiable craving to go even deeper to expand my knowledge and understanding of the genre. Lastly, and most surprisingly, an abnormally persistent desire to evangelize. The festival has left me feeling refreshed, energized, and even more passionate. I’ve spent the past weeks gathering my thoughts in an effort to articulate my feelings on why House, why it is so important, and how it continues to grow its influence in my life. Crafting this series of essays has been cathartic, which truthfully was the intention.
House turntable platter mats at Gramaphone Records
In this series of articles, we’ll find moments of reflection, doses of gratitude, dashes of history, heaps of self-expression, and yes… a stellar playlist. It starts with a synopsis on how I found my home in house, followed by a love letter to ARC Music Festival, and it closes with a series of thank you notes for the places and faces that have been there to shepherd my groove. I hope you walk away inspired by the values of peace, love, unity, respect, tolerance, and happiness, and with at least a taste of the feeling I’ve chased for the last decade — all in the name of the spirit of House.
Let’s get to work.
They say House is a feeling… that no one can understand really unless you are deep into the vibe. In many regards, those illustrious lyrics from the late Chuck Roberts are the truth. Meaning so much, while saying so little. House being a feeling is one of the most familiar phrases within the community. Globally galvanizing; universally understood. It’s all you need to know. It’s a sense of freedom, the embrace of acceptance, and profound belonging that washes over you. Every build up, every drop, it’s the embodiment of an evocative experience — it gets you going!
There is little I can write that will capture this essence as eloquently as the decades of timeless anthems like “Finally” by Kings of Tomorrow and Julie Mcknight, or as viscerally as being in the crowd, eyes closed, body jackin’. There is also bound to be house heads peeved that I’m even trying to explain it. No need to elaborate, just experience. Frankie Knuckles himself famously expressed this in an interview. While I deeply sympathize with the sentiment, at this moment, I yearn for more. Writing from the perspective of a listener, a consumer of the music, a devotee in the crowd, I didn’t publish this to necessarily convince readers to love house nor encourage anyone to start going to shows. I love having more room on the dance floor. Although if your curiosity is piqued, that’s wonderful and I highly encourage you to try house.
This is not me manifesting a budding music career — I’m not trying to be a DJ. I’m good at my day job. Although, one day learning my way around the decks well enough to ace a short birthday set? Sure, that sounds attainable and fun. Having produced my own song and music video with friends, which I’ll certainly do again, I feel confident that I’m a hobbyist. I’m a fan who is here to experience the environment. I crave the feeling, the fun, and the people. I’m here to rave.
Mike Dunn at crushing it at Spybar
With that being said, this is a collection of sentiments I’ve held dearly for so long, yet rarely channeled anywhere except coy Instagram content, Music League song submissions, or going to see more sets. As a natural communicator with a knack for verbose storytelling, I’ve decided to flaunt it rather than fight it. What about the music that makes me feel so impassioned? Why do I feel the need to defend it when I know others just don’t care? My hope is that you find my exploration of those questions entertaining, insightful, and maybe even a little moving.