The politics of dancing

DJ spinning message downtown has room for youth too

Publication title: Edmonton Journal
Pages: E1 Front
Publication date: Jan 31, 2004
ProQuest document ID: 253099705
Author: Sperounes, Sandra


Abstract:

[Kris Wilkinson], a.k.a. DJ [Kristoff], is inadvertently making a huge political statement tonight at Y, the lone remaining after-hours club in downtown Edmonton. Thirty-four DJs and hundreds of fans of dance music will be grooving at Futureshock, an event Wilkinson has been planning for more than two months. It's the first party of 2004 and could very well be the last, if the city decides to make changes to the rave bylaw or ban after-hours clubs from the downtown core.

Futureshock. It's an ironic name, considering Edmonton is bent on reliving the past. By organizing tonight's party, Wilkinson has become Kevin Bacon, in a city trapped in its own bizarre version of 1984's Footloose, where young people weren't allowed to dance because a maniacal preacher feared the consequences. "These dances and this kind of music can be destructive!" the preacher bleated.

Juno organizers, incidentally, picked Edmonton to host the three- day celebration partially because of our downtown clubs and their proximity to bigger venues like the Winspear Centre and Shaw Conference Centre.


Full text:

DJ PREVIEW
Futureshock
With: 34 DJs, including Cary Chang,
Neal K and Kristoff
Where: Y, 10028-102nd St.
When: Tonight, 9 p.m. to 9 a.m. Sunday
Tickets: $30

- - -

EDMONTON - Kris Wilkinson isn't much for politics.

He's a DJ and prefers to spin records instead of worrying about half-baked ideas emanating from mayors and business leaders.

But Wilkinson, a.k.a. DJ Kristoff, is inadvertently making a huge political statement tonight at Y, the lone remaining after-hours club in downtown Edmonton. Thirty-four DJs and hundreds of fans of dance music will be grooving at Futureshock, an event Wilkinson has been planning for more than two months. It's the first party of 2004 and could very well be the last, if the city decides to make changes to the rave bylaw or ban after-hours clubs from the downtown core.

"Everybody wants Edmonton to be this huge, vibrant city and it's not going to happen by taking (away) everything that is youthful downtown," says Wilkinson.

Futureshock. It's an ironic name, considering Edmonton is bent on reliving the past. By organizing tonight's party, Wilkinson has become Kevin Bacon, in a city trapped in its own bizarre version of 1984's Footloose, where young people weren't allowed to dance because a maniacal preacher feared the consequences. "These dances and this kind of music can be destructive!" the preacher bleated.

In our case, we have two preachers -- Mayor Bill Smith and Jim Taylor, the head of the Downtown Business Association. Both would like to see raves and after-hours clubs shut down at 3 a.m. instead of 8 a.m., because those who attend them loiter in parking lots, deal drugs, commit crimes and, as Taylor has said, "do nothing to enhance or revitalize downtown."

But Taylor wants to go one step further. As he told The Journal's editorial board recently, he'd like to rid downtown of regular nightclubs and young people. He'd rather see a downtown full of condos and upscale small bars like Four Rooms or Chance.

I hate to break the news, but illicit substances and bad behaviour are EVERYWHERE. If Taylor and Smith want to do away with after-hours clubs and their attendant problems, they'll also have to ban rock concerts, hip-hop parties and even the Folk Fest.

At Nickelback's show last week, for example, the scent of ganja wafted throughout Rexall Place. A couple in their 20s were even smoking pot outside the arena. In -32 C weather. In their hoodies.

When the Red Hot Chili Peppers spiced up Rexall in November, drunk teenage girls in $200 low-rise jeans stumbled around the concourse, trying desperately not to kiss the floor. Gig after gig, I see security guards haul out belligerent, drunk men and idiots toss water bottles at the stage.

Those things don't happen at DJ parties or after-hours clubs. And if we're measuring irresponsibility and moral reprehensibility, isn't throwing projectiles at defenseless performers worse than loitering in a parking lot or covering a building with grafitti?

If we ban rock concerts and festivals, we'll also have to say goodbye to the Junos and $15 million in potential revenue, because downtown is going to be packed in early April with even more young people clamouring to see performers in such venues as New City, the Sidetrack and City Centre Mall.

Juno organizers, incidentally, picked Edmonton to host the three- day celebration partially because of our downtown clubs and their proximity to bigger venues like the Winspear Centre and Shaw Conference Centre.

"Young people" might not spend enough money for Taylor's liking, but, as Wilkinson points out, they have a much more powerful tool at their disposal: The right to vote.

Futureshock's organizer didn't vote in the last civic election, but he's eager to cast his ballot in October. You can bet he won't be voting for Smith. "I'm going to vote for the guy that shows me he's going to come and try to understand things instead of sitting back behind an executive desk and reaping the rewards of being a mayor," says Wilkinson.

If enough young people vote, they might give Smith a future shock of his own.