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The Sable Story Draft, Part I

From the top:

Demitria grew up in San Jose, a place devoid of much local music culture, and she resigned herself to the comfort of the classic rock she was raised on, being quite sure that the world had gone to shit and nothing interesting would surface with genuine quality to keep her interest.

Demitria was a 4.0 student, very academically driven and, in a strict home, had no concern with parties and socializing outside of her friends from school and the kids at the library from surrounding schools.

One day, Demitria was walking to Journalism class, and came across an Emily, who was a nice girl in her class who didn’t talk much, and never crossed Demitria’s mind as someone whose company she might really enjoy. 

Emily was crumpled in a ball against the classroom wall, sobbing uncontrollably, tears falling on her white stockings and school books. Demitria inquired as to the source of her sadness, and Emily said her heart was very, very broken.

Demitria had been in that position fairly recently. She suggested something a little outlandish, something she would normally never condone. Emily was game, so they ditched class, and went to Demitria’s house to get very very high. They got so stoned, actually, that when they tried to drive-through Carl’s Jr, Emily kept rolling up on the curb, and since there was a cop parked close, Emily opted to dive off in a paranoid cloud, which made Demitria laugh her ass off.

Demitria and Emily became fast friends that week. They both loved The Moldy Peaches and Bob Dylan, and were excelent Journalism students, often staying late to work on the section they had been made Editors of. 

It was one Friday such as this, when the two were last to leave, hours after the bell, when everything changed. Demitria was feeling down about life. Everything seemed pointless, confusing, and unintruiging. Even school could not satisfy this hole she felt in her heart. Emily listened intently to her troubles, and then made a suggestion.

“Fuck it, I wasn’t going to go, but let’s go to this rave.”

“I don’t rave Em. That’s for crazy people.”

“I know but we can dance and not give a fuck.”

“My Mom would never let me.”

“Tell her you’re staying at my house to work on a project.”

“I have nothing to wear?”

“You can borrow my clothes.”

And so Demitria rooted through Emily’s wardrobe until she found something adequately outrageous. Then the girls doused themselves in glitter and drove to Emily’s friend’s house to wait for him to hop out of his bedroom window and over the fence. Ardy hopped in the car, and after they picked up another of Emily’s friends, they foursome made their way to Oakland.

To a junkyard, in Oakland.

DJ Forest Green was playing a thing called psy-trance when they arrived. Demitria had never danced to music like this before. Maybe it was the little blue pill she took, or the comfort of abandon that hit her when she entered the warehouse. Maybe it was the edgy clothing and new friends. Whatever it was, Demitria let go of everything she had known before and partied until the cops came at 6 in the morning. 

Around 4, Demitria had a conversation with the boy Ardy that had come with them. Ardy was a skinny kid with music in his head all the time. He was amazed that Demitria had never listened to electronic music before, becasue as an avid creator of electronic sound, this was already more than a hobby to him. They talke about their different origins an dtastes, and split another pill, blue, with a dolphin on it. In retrospect, it was a turning point for both of them; for Demitria, it was a while new world of sensory input to delve into and explore, and eventually, coordinate on her own. For Ardy, that first rave was his introduction to a community of people that would someday make him famous for his music.

They came home and waited in the parking lot of Santana Row for Ardy’s parents to leave for work so he could sneak back inside. As the sun rose, Demitria slept on Ardy’s shoulder, and he kissed her goodbye. 

A lovely night. 

There would be more.

There would be a million nights of Emily and Demitria traveling to San Francisco and Daly City, the warehouses of Oakland, the scariest graffiti-covered reaches of Hunter’s Point, caving in roofs, creepy boys, hotel parties, matching outfits, fake eye-lashes, and beautiful, beautiful music.

And then there was a falling out. Emily fell out with raves, and Demitria fell out with the music. Not knowing much about production, she couldn’t quite finger what was wrong with some of these sounds, but she knew that they were often unbalanced, and filtered through shitty speakers. Now with no partner in crime, the shows lost their fun… They were reduced to bad music and too many kids on drugs who didn’t notice what their ears absorbed. 

And so life for Demitria went back to normal. Almost.

Demitria made friends with some boys at school. They were Ardy’s friends, as it turned out. They too liked to listen to electronic music, and hated most of it they heard, like Demitria. And so this team of highschoolers began to search high and low for decent beats; being under 21 made this all the more difficult.

Then, they found Blake’s.

Blake’s was a legendary venue in Berkeley, where many Jazz and Blues legends had played since the 20’s. On Tuesdays, a crew called Sonus hosted a night of Minimal House, which happened to be right up Demitria and the boys’ alley. Better yet, it was an 18+ spot, and they never carded, so all their 17 year old friends had nothing to worry about.

Sonus was once every two weeks, and consisted of the downstairs bar, a single red light, and a slappin sound system.

We didn’t miss a show until the venue closed, 2 years of goodtimes. After we realized what a treasure we had found, we started packing the place with kids from San Jose. We would roll 5 or 10 cars deep. Soon, the boys were getting their own J slots with the Sonus crew. We met a man named Jeeremy Bispo, who would later become very important not just to our ability to access the music we loved, but to me specifically, and the unexpected ways my life would change over the coming years.

Meanwhile, Ardy had begun making waves.

There was a group of Producers/DJ’s called DirtyBird. They had started the most successful house music group in the Bay Area. They also had begun throwing fully-permitte parties in Golden Gate Park, something almost unheard of. Their Function-One sound system and family-friendly BBQ’s brought the most beautiful people in San Francisco in droves. These were not the colorful crazies that flocked to Lovefest and ETD POP, they were dancers, people of all cultural backgrounds that were looking for quality sound to relax in the sun and sweat to while their feet moved for hours and hours. Those Sundays were publicly accessible, and our friends from San Jose became a regular staple at the front of the crowd. 

Ardy, however, had been edging his way around the DJ stand, to speak with Justin Martin, one of the DirtyBird DJ’s.

They talked a lot.

They really liked Ardy’s music.

They gave him a release, and played it at Eletric Daisy Carnival in L.A., the largest Electronic Music Gathering in North America. Now Ardy gets flown out all over the world to play for crowds who love him.

More to come.

Posted Feb 3, 12