Dancing is a meditation.
In front of a stack of speakers, I let go of all inhibition.
I find patterns and sequences, high hooks and low rhythms to compliment with my human form.
I am completely present.
I have a theory that the mind runs on patterns.
We have a set of expected outcomes which we have adopted through experience, like the rhythms which carry a measure.
Life’s interest lies in the pleasure and the danger.
Intrigue comes from having our expectations subverted, it comes when the DJ cuts the low end.
My first true experience of techno was at a System party in July 2015, where I found myself getting down with the best of them for UK heavy-hitter Regis.
Disillusioned by the basements and bad attitudes of the Minneapolis punk scene, I had been untethered from underground music which had always been an integral part of my identity.
But on that dancefloor, I found positivity and true enjoyment.
On that dancefloor, I found myself.
I love the subtle musical moves of a wicked DJ.
How they weave you up and down, in and out of rhythms, attentively adding and subtracting elements of a set to take you on a rollercoaster ride or to bring you to a peak.
I love a thumping, driving bassline which echoes in your chest, whose absence you feel like a loss until the DJ inevitably brings it back.
Still, I remember laughing to myself when I realized that we all wanted the same thing.
The crowd at the Regis show whooped and hollered for what I wished for silently inside.
The harder I get down, the more intensely I am complimenting the DJ.
The energy I embody when I dance is a kind I only experience in the presence of music which beckons me to dance with it, not for it.
I feel a sense of unity with everyone on the dancefloor, a sense of collective enjoyment.
The absence of hostility and posturing I’d previously experienced in underground music yields to a space for people to be free, and to freely be themselves.
Unlike other genres of music, I get the impression that the people out on the dancefloor are there for the right reasons.
I get the impression that we are having fun.
In fact, what are the reasons we flock to techno and its musical siblings?
This is the question I want to explore in my contributions to Chosen By The Funk.
As a feminist, I am constantly seeking the utopian space.
The dancefloor is the home of an altered-consciousness, one which has long evaded the entrapments of enforced reality.
To me, the dancefloor is a utopian space.
The space where the boundaries used to oppress us are dissolved and our highest potential might be realized.
The dancefloor is a temporary autonomous zone, established in the middle of a bar, in a seldom touched warehouse, or in the middle of nowhere (somewhere?) where we can privately and collectively have an experience - and techno is the catalyst.
My name is Lindsey.
I’m part Terence McKenna and part Dr. Seuss, an interesting fusion of silly and serious.
I study tarot, I make coffee, and I question everything.
I’m an amateur philosopher with a mission to amplify the voices of women on matters of consciousness, spirituality, and culture.
This is why I am here to contribute, so let's get this party started!
A Note From Bobby: Please join me in welcoming Lindsey to Chosen By The Funk. I met her at Even Furthur, but even before that I noticed her as a good dancer who was showing up every week at Communion. I made a Facebook post about contributing as a writer, she answered the call, and now here we are! As you can see from her post, she and I have a lot in common, but she has a different perspective and a different writing style and I am glad to have her onboard. This is a very exciting time for CBTF, and I am hoping to keep growing! If something you see on this website inspires you, I can and will find space for you! All you have to do is follow Lindsey's lead and reach out!