Okay, so after I wrote a preview of this show, I made sure to dress accordingly-- as if it was a strictly white tie affair. I went to the Dollar Tree to buy a white t-shirt, cut it up into some edgy asymmetrical tank top (thank you, middle school home ec. class), and wore the bare necessitates, because I was prepared to dance my ass off!
Dave Rave is an OU bucket list essential. For last night’s show, the upstairs Union transformed into the inside of a tanning bed (I don’t think they were emitting UV rays – hopefully) thanks to all the black lights hung above the dance floor. I was immediately given a highlighter for the event from organizer/DJ David Alexander, then I looked around figuring out what my first plan of attack was with this trusty school utensil.
As the place crowded out, I saw that everyone put their right brain to good use. The control factor of a highlighter provides more benefits than the traditional body paint, and people were writing phone numbers, back tags like “show me your tits” and “the one to get down,” and even took highlighting to the body and face. The highlighters were also utilized by the crowd for social benefits, because -- seriously -- what better way to say, “Hey, I was totally checking you out from across the room” than to make a spontaneous marker attack to the body of your targeted subject? What are they going to do?! Note to self: be careful with targeting a subject you’re not interested in. Messages get mixed-up and you’ll find yourself completely cornered by a man trying to rub up on you.
The web director Branka Sormaz and I had to halt our dancing to laugh in amazement at some of the face art – including goggles, rings around the mouth, and, for -- some reason -- a favorite among the plaid-shorts wearing men, dots and slashes all over the face. The event had a small kiosk for all your traditional black light needs, which were so affordable it’s no question that attendees jumped on the glow sticks, additional highlighters and neon bracelets.
So the music: Well, I sure didn’t mind getting down to the variety of David Guetta tracks, including two of my favorites “Toyfriend” and “Memories,” mixed into Alexander’s, who was the second to first DJ of the night before headliner DJ B-Funk, set. There were the occasional major pop tracks thrown in; such as, Madonna's “Like A Prayer” and Kings of Leon's “Use Somebody” – which let me add, ended up being a crowd killer with its shift of tempo, but I mostly recall moments of building percussion to high-synth breakdown that happened at least once every ten minutes.
You know those moments when you and your friends form a dance circle, minding your own business, swinging your hips and chest like it ain’t no thang, and then suddenly some enthusiastic attendee jumps in to do some crazy leg jivin’ and you don’t know what to do? That seemed to happen with almost all breakdowns and I was left bewildered. However, seeing the gay-ladened faces from the audience as they spastically gyrated, jumped, flailed their arms up in the air, etc., was the most satisfying attribute of the night.
With hazed vision thanks to the fog machine, and white shirt growing more transparent thanks to some hard sweating, I had to retreat from the circle to go outside to get some air. There should have been a “WARNING: Exit At Your Own Risk” sign somewhere because I ended up screwing myself over by having the snaking line outside fill in the spots of those who left the party, including myself. The two hours inside was enough for the experience, but I’m just bummed I couldn’t report some potential crazy audience behavior to this blog’s beloved readers.
--Rika Nurrahmah, General Manager