Audiotistic, Future Sound Festival, in L.A.

It is 7 o'clock in Long Beach County and a California dusk has settled above the broad expanse of parking lot surrounding the city's monolithic Convention Center. I am drinking Jim Beam straight from the bottle. Beyond the windshield of my friend Ann's Honda, a parade of 15-year-olds marches past, dressed in the most outrageous array of candy-colored raver gear it's ever been my privilege to witness. Glitter, pigtails, wacky hats, pink halter tops, fuzzy hair pins, rubber bracelets and pacifiers galore. There is a heavy silence in the car as the procession unfolds. After a long, pregnant pause, our friend Jon clears his throat from the backseat and announces gravely, "We're definitely not getting laid tonight."

He has a point. The fact that we are nearly double the age of most of the fans attending Audiotistic ("A Future sound festival uniting all styles of dance culture") certainly does appear to be a setback. But when we enter the darkened, cavernous enormity of the LBCC it seems the span of years may be of little consequence. These kids are high as kites, rolling on an excess of ecstasy and K and Lord only knows what else. It's only 8 p.m. and already the sticky concrete floor is littered with empty water bottle and piles of intertwined bodies. Here and there a glow stick flashes in the womb-like dark. The speakers roar like wind across the tundra. Skinny prepubescents gyrate to the beat.

There are five sections of Audiotistic offerings: hiphop, jungle, scratch, trance and house. Each area (holding approximately 5000 ravers) is separated from the others by thin walls or enormous curtains. As we begin to walk, the sounds of needle on vinyl, melodic rapping and the deep throb of bass seep into and out of one another, depending on where one is in the chaos. And chaos it is.

The Audiotistic lineup consists of a formidable array of some of the hottest hiphop and electronica acts around. Common, Jurassic 5, Dilated Peoples, DJ Craze, Cut Chemist, Skratch Perverts, DJDan are all making appearances. When I called earlier that day for directions, a voice on the machine instructed me to "have fun, drive safe and welcome to the future!" Audiotistic's vision of the future, as far as I can tell, is a kind of pagan techno love-in, where kids barely emerged from adolescence wander in glazed-eyed bliss, a world where music commands the culture and raver zombies rule the land.

After a moment's hesitation I decide to throw myself fully into the fray, gobbling the illicit raver host that is graciously provided for me by a 13-year-old Taiwanese boy. With all the options (not to mention the sweet distraction brewing in my synapses) it's difficult to concentrate on a particular act. Most of the evening I find myself falling in rank with the candy ravers, immersing myself in the river of people and allowing myself to be led by their whims. This seems the best method for enjoying the show, and besides, I'm beginning to like the hot press of bodies and the occasional massage the stranger behind me is kind enough to offer.

In this way I'm able to catch a glimpse of an assortment of acts: Cut Chemist waging skratch war against Shortcut, Garth Trinidad spreading his Chocolate City grooves. After a while I disengage from the crowd and insert myself among the hordes of kids surrounding the hiphop stage, shaking my booty through the Beat Junkies' jams and Blackalicious' grooves. When Jurassic 5 comes onstage and begin playing with their usual flawlessness I'm feeling just fine, thank you very much.

At some point in the J-5 show a man takes the stage to beatbox. But this isn't just any beatboxing, this is goddamned magic. This man can make any sound, any beat?techno, funk, drum 'n' bass, house, you name it. I can hear, in the layers of sound that emerge miraculously from his mouth, a trumpet, bass, synth, guitar. Then MC Supernatural is suddenly onstage, but due to the sea of pink Kangols obstructing my view I'm not sure if he's the same man he's who's responsible for the beautiful beatboxing or not. In any case, Supernatural's Vegas-style rap act ("Give me three words, any three words and I'll make a rap!") quickly loses its charm. In the midst of his epic medley (He's Biggie! He's Snoop! He's Tupac back from the dead!) I dive back into the crowd flow and am hit within minutes by the mile-wide beats of an unknown DJ. My hips begin to swing, my arms flutter. I catch a glimpse of Jon sitting cross-legged on the floor, a slim-waisted Japanese boy massaging his shoulders and a long-haired Korean kid spinning glow sticks just inches from his nose. Despite the fact Jon is both a bawdy Texan and an avowed heterosexual, he looks remarkably content. Ann is reclining on the floor nearby, looking for all the world like an Egyptian queen as a host of adolescents attend to her every whim.

The night takes on the taste and texture of cotton candy. A pink-blue cloud descends and my skin grows moist and warm. I love Jurassic 5 so much. I love the Skratch Perverts and DJ Dan and Dilated Peoples and Q Bert. I love jungle and house and trance and hiphop and 15-year-olds with strong hands who work out the kinks in my back like pros. I love the new "future sound uniting all styles of dance culture." I love Audiotistic. And I just keep on loving. Through Roger Sanchez and DJ Vice and P Trix and into the wee hours of morning when I float out into the aqua dawn, through the LBCC parking lot and north up the broad and empty freeway, moving fast and clean below the soft red beginnings of a California sun.