Last Night a DJ Saved Our Lives

The Adams House ArtSpace brimmed with thumping techno, lasciviously gyrating bodies, and a stale, acrid fog machine haze.

At least one face-painted, shirtless, sweaty dude bounced around the room, beckoning fellow revelers to join him in electronica ecstasy.

And yet, Friday night’s Underground Rave—sponsored by DAPA, Drug and Alcohol Peer Advisors—was a decidedly wholesome affair. Despite being alcohol-free, the event managed to attract more than 300 curious party people over the course of the night.

Pre-gaming is an admittedly useful innovation. But the event had the surprising air of good, clean fun. Even certain cooler-than-thou upperclassmen types, who typically would not be caught dead partying on campus, were lured by the rave’s uniqueness.

The Harvard party scene is littered with rap-fueled grind-fests in which dancing is merely a means to an end. It was thus refreshing to witness undergrads in the ArtSpace earnestly working it, with no ulterior motives beyond the simple pleasures of booty-shaking.

It is embarrassing to frantically wave around glow sticks (the hosts distributed about 500 of them) in desperate effort to keep the beat: Harvard students are not particularly graceful with their bodies. But Friday night’s attendees are to be commended for their willingness to disregard the gin-soaked naysayers and let down their hair. At the very least, the Underground Rave is proof positive that proper dancing rivals any drunk.

Steven A. Franklin ’10 counts himself among the converted. The rave was not his typical scene; that usually involves some combination of Pizza Ring, PBR, and “Family Guy” DVDs. But he was all smiles when I caught up with him, taking a water break in his glistening white t-shirt and five-years-ago aviators.

Steven, glad to see you are staying hydrated. Does it bother you that practically every DJ we have heard here tonight is French, German, or Dutch?

“I am not at all suspicious of all the Europeans,” he replied, coughing through gulps of water. “My music tastes generally trend to guys like the Eagles, Bruce Springsteen—real all-Americans. But it’s good to get exposure to new things.”

Is that why you decided to show up tonight?

“Well, I decided to tag along with my roommates.” He pointed to a pair of gangly-looking guys standing off to one side, wearing sunglasses similar to his. “They thought this would be a great place to meet slutty, freaky Harvard girls.”

The ladies seem way too busy dancing for you to spit game at them.

“I know man! Who’d have thought that just dancing by myself could be this much fun?”

So, next time, can I expect to see you rocking the feathered top-hat, neon hoodie, and pacifier?

“Not exactly. But these greasy club kids have shown me a side of myself that I never knew existed.”

Yes, Harvard students have seen the light. And it’s a giant disco ball.