RAVES ROCK ON, LAWS OR NOT

As pink and blue lights exploded, the scene in the early hours Sunday
seemed like a surreal version of the Western Wall: Lithe young men -- some
in skin-hugging wet T-shirts, others bare-chested -- flailed ecstatically
against the black mesh of the 8-foot high speakers, as if they were
praying. Up close, the booming sound was visceral. At more than 180 beats
per minute, the bass was so hard it seemed to pierce the heart, the brain.

"The music has a psychedelic effect," said Winter Jones, a 26 year-old out
for the night with some friends. "It's like a spirituality, like a drug."

This is Fuse 2, a rave in south suburban Harvey, which drew more than 3,000
young people -- some from as far away as Lake Bluff and LaPorte, Ind. --
this weekend. Held in the vast expanse of the South Chicago Expo Center
(next door to a gentlemen's club called Club O and behind a Ramada Inn),
the party began at 9 p.m. Saturday and was still going strong well past
Sunday's dawn. Unlike some rave promoters, the organizers of Fuse 2 worked
fully within the law, getting a permit that allowed them to hold a party
and charge an admission fee. What made it a "rave" was the fact that it was
a one-time event, promoted to its young audience via the Internet, fliers
and word of mouth.

But not all raves happen in such a tolerant atmosphere. Last Wednesday, the
Chicago City Council passed an ordinance designed to discourage raves.
Tucked into an omnibus bill, the "rave" ordinance waltzed into law without
public discussion outside of committee.

"The new law requires a city amusement license that in turn requires
liability (insurance), being up to fire codes and safety standards," said
Sgt. Tom Edeling of the Shakespeare Police District, which is nestled in
Wicker Park, one of the city's most popular areas for late-night
entertainment. Under the new regulations, violators -- and that not only
includes rave promoters but also the property owners and even the disc
jockeys -- can be fined up to $10,000 each for throwing a for-profit party
(before, only the owner of the property got into trouble over illegal
raves). Perhaps more chilling to promoters, even legal parties must now
shut down by 2 a.m., an hour when many raves are just getting started.

But if Fuse 2 is typical, most ravers are exceedingly polite, with a
remarkable respect for personal space no matter how crowded the dance floor
or intensely physical their dancing. In spite of a racially diverse
assemblage and the presence of numerous gay couples, Saturday night
featured no fights and no gang activity. And though the space was
dangerously dark and smoky, physical intimacy seemed restricted to
cuddling. Most of the revelers danced alone or in groups rather than in pairs.

"'Rave' is an all-purpose name for a party held outside a legitimate
venue," said Erick Urenn, 33, a veteran of dozens of raves and a Chicago
promoter. "It grew out of underground dance culture and youth culture." "A
typical rave kid can drive but isn't old enough to get into nightclubs,"
said Chris Gin, the 32-year-old managing editor of Thousand Words, a
Chicago-based magazine dedicated to the rave scene.

According to Joey Swanson, 26, ravers swear by a motto whose acronym is
PLUR: Peace, Love, Unity and Respect. "You'll see every walk of life at a
rave, and differences are respected," said Swanson, host of "Sonic Boom," a
Saturday night techno-music show But it's not the music, good vibes or the
rebel spirit that has brought raves so much unwanted attention recently.
Designer drugs -- such as MDMA, commonly known as Ecstasy, LSD or acid, and
Ketamine HCl, better known as Special K -- are getting a lot of notice
among politicians and the media.

Saturday night in Harvey, drugs also made an appearance: Handfuls of ravers
"rolling" on Ecstasy danced with painters' masks attached to their faces,
sniffing under the masks to extend their high. Others sucked on baby
pacifiers to keep from grinding their teeth, a common side-effect of
Ecstasy. In a corner, a young man emptied his billfold in exchange for a
fistful of pills. But there was no trace of marijuana, not a whiff of
alcohol or any sign of harder drugs, such as cocaine or heroin.

"Other cities have had fatalities," said Ald. Ted Matlak of the 32nd Ward.
"Let's say you cram 2,000 people in a basement on a residential street and
have some nitrous oxide. Those tanks are highly flammable. What happens if
you have a fire? We're looking at hundreds of people in an area without
enough bathrooms, elevators or exits."

Raves first sprang up in England in the late 1980s and by the early '90s,
they had been imported to Chicago. Young people started throwing
house-music parties in lofts. Dark, airy and able to hold large crowds,
these were located in run-down buildings in South Loop and Wicker Park. But
those areas have rapidly gentrified, and now, with the city so hostile to
these clandestine parties, veterans of the circuit say that many promoters
are shifting their focus to the already active suburban rave scene.

But raves still happen in the city. A couple of weeks ago, police in
Matlak's ward were called to a construction site. Young people had broken
into the unfinished condominiums and installed music equipment, cranking
the sound up enough to bother the neighbors.

"Another time, one of our sergeants stumbled on a party on a Sunday morning
and found a boy unconscious from nitrous oxide," said Matlak, one of the
new law's sponsors. For Matlak, the incident had personal resonance because
one of his high school friends had died from an overdose of the same drug.

Bobby Villalon, 33, the founder of Thousand Words magazine, said most
promoters are as interested as the authorities in keeping raves as drug-
and trouble-free as possible. Though ravers do not deny the presence of
drugs, Villalon said it is beyond the promoters' control to police
partygoers and said that drug use is wildly exaggerated. "There is
absolutely no organized drug-selling at raves," he said.

Surprisingly, Edeling agreed. "The promoters don't push the drugs. What
they push is the music and the experience. They put together a package. But
then others come along and sell."

According to many ravers, one of the great ironies of the new law is that
the police assigned to enforce it are also frequently hired as off-duty
security for the parties.

"You hire off-duty cops because, supposedly, they have contacts" who will
keep you from getting arrested, explained local promoter Urenn." (They)
will say things are cool and keep the sergeant from busting you." Edwin
Rios, whose deejay name is Bear Who?, said off-duty police working raves
often make as much as $100 an hour.

In fact, Saturday's Fuse 2 was closely guarded by off-duty Harvey police,
including Patrol Officer Sam White, who was wearing a black skullcap with
POLICE stitched across it. Although White said several arrests had been
made in connection with drug use and possession, the desk sergeant at the
Harvey police station refused to comment.

Edeling wouldn't confirm or deny the possibility that Chicago police
officers could also be a part of the now outlawed rave scene.

"I don't know about that," he said. "The last thing they're going to do is
tell me. But as far as offering security at a place where there's narcotics
usage, that would be contrary to the job. There would certainly be questions."

Still, that the local rave scene will find ways to get around the new
ordinance is a foregone conclusion, Gin said. "You can't stop it," he said.
"The more you try to repress what youth is doing, the more they're going to
want to do it."