Courtesy of Detroit journalist and educator Kristin Palm:
Like the movie title says, last years DEMF indeed felt like a long drive
home. I say this not because I am one of the legions of Detroits techno
fanatics I was a new wave teenager in Michigans culturally bereft north
country during the famed Music Institue days and, while I know and respect
techno musics history, I wouldnt have known Carl Craig from the Chemical
Brothers before Memorial Day last year (yes, thats an exaggeration). I say
this because I am a Detroiter.
What Carl Craig created last year with the first DEMF was more than a
festival, more than a tribute, more than a home base for a music that has
had to travel too far for too long. More important than any of that, Carl
created a community. By booking three days of non-stop hip-hop, techno,
electro, acid jazz, DJs, PAs and MCs, Carl created a place where Detroiters
of all ages, races and ethnic groups did not for one second think about all
those artificial barriers that still divide us in our everyday lives,
because we were too busy grooving alongside suburbanites and tourists from
around the world. He created a space where all of us, despite our perceived
differences felt welcome and comfortable and safe. And, above all, he
showed us how much we, Detroiters, collectively, have to be proud of.
From the bombastic beats of Slum Village (or Slum Willage as my Bosnian
friend calls them, just to underscore their vast appeal) to the
Kraftwerk-by-way-of-Cass-Ave. delivery of Adult. to the historic
collaboration between Derrick May and Last Poet Omar Bin-Hassan and the
deep, early-morning grooves of Theo Parrish, Carl gave us an ultra-live,
in-our-faces, dance-our-asses-off picture of where we1ve been, where were
going and, beyond everything else, what we could become. Over one million
people, from the Ren Cen to Rotterdam, agreed with his vision so
wholeheartedly theyre still talking about it today.
Whatever the differences between Carl and Pop Culture Media1s Carol
Marvin, be they artistic, professional or, more than likely, petty, I can
think of no way the DEMF can continue without its visionary, the man who
sees the DEMF in terms of its spirit, not its sponsors. This point is
underscored for me whenever I think of just how peacefully last years DEMF
progressed. Not only did everyone groove together in harmony, I witnessed
none of the annoyances that plague typical festivals and venues. No drunks
shaking bare beer bellies in the middle of a tight-knit crowd, no underage
kids puking in trashcans, no parking lot potfests, or any of the other
reminders of social unease encountered regularly at places like Pine Knob
(excuse me, DTE Energy Music Theatre). Instead of "Drink! Drink! Drink!",
hundreds of thousands of people from around the world punctuated Richie
Hawtin's closing set with cheers of "Detroit! Detroit! Detroit!" It was an
earth-shaking moment, to be sure.
I think a large reason for this phenomenon was the community spirit of
Carls event. I wonder what the difference will be this year when, in
addition to the C-Pop Stage - named for a cultural institution and true
Detroit believer - we have the Miller Genuine Draft and Bacardi stages.
Feeling good? Loving your neighbor? Well, try this jello shot and youll
feel even better! Hell, try about ten! Then get in your Ford Focus and drive
home!
It saddens me immensely to say this, but the DEMFs downward spiral has
begun. And my guess is that by this time next year it will be spinning out
of control. For Memorial Day 2002, I predict well be sitting around the
barbecue again, grousing about the infusion of drunk-assed kids and maniac
drivers (in their Ford Explorers, of course) clogging up downtown, and we'll
reminisce about that brief time in our citys history when we all felt like
family and Hart Plaza felt like home.
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