POLICE TO CRASH THE PARTY

When the thump-thump-thump of techno music fills the air at Montreal's next
big rave, you can expect to see some less-than-ecstatic ravers.

The estimated 10,000 ticket-holders who will be filing into Jarry Park for
the giant Cream party on Sept. 2 will be met at the door by police officers
who will search their pockets, bags, and even shoes before allowing them
into the all-night blowout dance party.

Ravers who refuse to submit to a search can kiss their $85 tickets good-bye
and go home.

Welcome to the new rave culture.

And don't be fooled by the party atmosphere.

Raves have become the latest battleground in the war on drugs. Or, in this
case, the war on Ecstasy, the seductively named feel-good drug that ravers
say gives them the energy to dance the night away.

Until this latest crackdown, Ecstasy sold freely at raves everywhere
despite warnings that it can cause heart and kidney failure and even death
in people with cardio-vascular problems.

It's also associated with memory loss, and in some cases, brain damage.
Police say the drug is being sold by biker gangs who've infiltrated rave
culture.

Some ravers, however, say the new police searches are harassment and the
crackdown on Ecstasy a war on youth culture.

Everyone agrees on one point: raves aren't what they used to be.

The new music scene began in the early 1980s as a hush-hush underground
youth phenomenon.

Described as large gatherings of drug-fueled kids dancing to cutting-edge
sounds, raves happened mysteriously in abandoned warehouses or on some
farmer's field.

"You had to know someone to get in, you'd only know about it 24 hours in
advance; now, it's advertised on TV," observes DJ Krista, a former devotee
of massive parties who now prefers spinning records for smaller parties at
Sona, a Montreal after-hours club.

Over the course of 10 years, rave culture morphed into mainstream
mega-shows at big-city venues like the Olympic Stadium and the Molson Centre.

Today, industrial-size raves feature state-of-the-art light shows.
Celebrity DJs like Britain's Paul Okenfold, Funk D'Void of Scotland and
Timo Mass of Germany draw tens of thousands of enthusiasts for bashes that
last up to 14 hours.

"The bigger the rave, the bigger the talent," said DJ Krista. "It's the
stars of the techno world. And the kids, they really want to go."

And they're getting younger and younger. It's estimated that about half of
today's ravers are between 15 and 18 years old.

"You can't go to a bar if you're under 18," notes freelance writer Michelle
Rainer, 27, who quit the scene three years ago when the crowds got younger
and her own friends stopped going.

A huge part of the attraction, enthusiasts say, is Ecstasy, the "hug drug."

"It's Ecstasy and the feeling of good vibes that it spread," Rainer said.
"I love the music. I love to go out and dance all night. And it's fun to
see all your friends."

Police estimate that more than three-quarters of ravers are under the
influence. Those who frequent the scene say it's even higher.

"Everyone is on drugs at raves - if you don't take anything, it's not at
all the same thing," said enthusiast Martin Henri, 26. "The music is better
and you can dance longer."

But Henri prefers smaller raves held off the island of Montreal - outside
MUC police jurisdiction - rather than the giant organized events with
tickets sold through Admission. Those events attract big-time drug dealers
who, in turn, attract police. That makes for bad vibes.

"With a big party of 15,000, that's a lot of people wanting to get stoned.
Obviously, if you were a big drug-dealer, where would you go? Maybe the big
(raves) deserve to be police controlled," he said.

But like many rave-goers, Henri says the police clampdown is killing the
culture through intimidation. "They want to control the kids. ... They've
no business ruining this."

But rave organizers are playing ball with the cops. Montreal's best-known
promoter, 514 Productions, recently cut a deal with MUC police to allow
searches at the door and more. They say they had no choice; it was do or die.

The memory of police shutting down 514 Production's massive rave, Swirl,
just two days before opening at the Olympic Stadium, still haunts the
promoters.

"I lost $300,000," said 514 president Ricardo Cordeiro of the May 20
fiasco. He's got other parties in the works - Cream, Freaky Celebration,
Connected, and Swirl - and didn't want a repeat experience.

Hence, the agreement with police.

The first rave under police scrutiny was Oasis, held at the Molson Centre
on July 21. It featured police searches that went off without a hitch.
Cordeiro defends what he did then, saying, "It's not a sellout," despite
critics who called the rave "a politically correct" event.

"It was their (police) way or no way. I'd have had to find a new career."

Drugs, says Cordeiro, existed long before raves. He argues that
collaborating with police will ensure the survival of the rave scene since
the crackdown is happening all over North America and Europe, not just
Montreal.

The city of Ottawa, for instance, recently passed a bylaw requiring rave
organizers to buy permits, hire security guards, have their buildings
inspected and deny entry to anyone under 16.

In New York City, police ushered 400 partygoers out of Twilo night club and
shut it down after a midnight raid in May. Critics say political pressure
rather than rampant drug use led to the closing of Twilo, described as "the
Carnegie Hall of electronic music." (A front-page New York Times story said
the club ran its own ambulance service, shuttling overdosed ravers to
hospitals to avoid police.)

Montreal police point to several rave-related drug deaths in Toronto and
say they want to prevent this from happening here.

Inspector Jean-Guy Gagnon hinted that biker gangs have muscled into the
rave scene and are behind the Ecstasy trade.

"We don't know for sure, but that's how it's worked in the past in bars and
strip clubs. Normally the owner doesn't have a choice. They are scared. We
get a lot of complaints."

But Gagnon made it clear this wasn't war against youth culture. "We don't
want to fight the raves. Each generation has its own music," he said,
noting that techno is to the rave generation what rock'n'roll was to the
hippies of the 1960s.

The recent Oasis rave, he said, resulted in 42 arrests - two for
trafficking, 40 for possession. The possession charges were dropped.

"We want the big fish, not the small dealer that can be replaced on the
street the next day," he said.

Police also fear driving the movement underground.

"It's going to be our next problem," Gagnon said. "We don't want them to
party in clandestine, underground places. We prefer to tolerate some
Ecstasy - (if it's taken) before the event.

"Police have children, too."

But for many, a police presence is alien to rave culture.

Independent promoter Jeff MK Ultra says he'll no longer hold raves that
fall under MUC police jurisdiction.

"What a concept! It just doesn't go together. It's the antithesis of fete,"
said Jeff, who held a small rave at a sugar shack north of Montreal last
weekend. "We can't party with police (around)."

The French-born Jeff said that friction with police has become a real
problem in his native country.

"Sometimes, it's a race who'll get there first, us or police. We've been
chased away with machine guns," he said. "It's a real war."

Attempts to wipe out the rave culture will drive the phenomenon
underground, warned Mireille Silcott, author of a cultural history book
called Rave America. "Police can't stamp this out because it comes from a
genuine need among youth in North America and Europe."

But compared with police in the U.S., Montreal cops are "fair," Silcott
said, noting that in some American cities, raves went underground after
police came down hard.

"I don't think they (Montreal police) want to crack down on the scene,"
Silcott said. They're after the big drug-dealers who've forced their way
into raves - "the same people have been controlling Ecstasy in Montreal
since 1995."

Rave culture and drugs have always gone hand in hand.

"Ecstasy and house music - these two weird things - met on certain dance
floors," Silcott said, like London's West End. "And the combustion between
this new beat-heavy disco music and this psychedelic amphetamine called
Ecstasy was ... RAVE." A strong, long-lasting "happy, touchy-feely drug,"
Ecstasy turned dance floors into all night parties, she said.

"We have to stop making these things taboo," said local star DJ Maus, who's
a headliner at the next Cream festival. Maybe police should accept that
"it's a party, and some people take drugs," she said, admitting that the
drug issue is "quite delicate."

Other DJs say the raves have gotten so big and the drugs so pervasive that
it's hard for police to ignore them. So if co-operating with them is the
only way to make sure the parties continue, then ravers should comply -
even if it sours the atmosphere.

"It sours it even more if saying 'no' means you can't do it any more," said
DJ Krista.

"It's aim is to help rather than hinder the cause. We can't always be
having these big hedonistic free-for-all, Caligula-style things."