This story is a capstone project by CU Boulder’s News Corps students Charlie Bennett, Grace Maruska and Henry Napientek.
Naamon Owens approached a dilapidated warehouse in Denver’s Five Points neighborhood on a Friday night in early March. Its rusted metal awnings and graffiti-covered doors offered an unassuming welcome, but Owens knew better.
He found his way inside. The murky bowels of the place thudded with the chaos of synth bass. He followed the thumping music through the maze of the building until he came to a final door. When he opened it, he was instantly hit with shaking waves of sound, flashing lights, thick fog and dancing bodies. In a neighborhood that once hosted some of the premier jazz musicians of yesteryear, dozens gathered to enjoy Denver’s little-known and heavily protected world of underground raves, colloquially known as “renegades.”
Several props were scattered throughout the corridors of the industrial space, like a bookshelf stocked with counterculture literature, a pamphlet titled “Seven Myths About Police,” a bench press and a large poster of a shirtless Arnold Schwarzenegger. This web of seemingly disparate cultural references speaks to the central tenets of underground rave culture: unbridled self-expression and protection from the judgments of traditional society.
“I think the best thing about this environment is that everyone is accepted, everyone can do their own thing, and you don’t have to do the most to feel seen and that’s the problem with society,” Owens said. “Everyone feels like they have to do the most to be seen but in reality, less is more.”
Over the past five years, Denver has seen a vast increase in the number of do-it-yourself electronic music organizers. These groups typically rent out conventional venues or non-music-related buildings like warehouses to host electronic music experiences. With a heavy emphasis on lighting, setlists and venue space, many of these organizers have quickly developed a reach of thousands through their Instagram profiles that feature photos of sweaty dancers and fog-covered DJ tables. No Expectations has amassed over 21,000 followers on their Instagram page, which promotes an authentic rave experience for Denver electronic music fans.
The Five Points warehouse is just one of the locations around the city where producers, organizers and artists flock, converting private and public spaces into the very epitome of the term RAVE—or a radical audio and visual experience. Take, for instance, the drainage tunnel system at the southern end of Sanderson Gulch Train in the Ruby Hill neighborhood. During the day, these heavily graffitied tunnels remain unused, aside from occasional spelunking children drawn into the system’s mysterious opening. However, on some evenings, this network underneath the city transforms into one of the most lively electric dance music venues in Denver.
“A lot of the time it’s tunnels, a lot of the time it’s warehouses or just fields,” said Joseph Gray, one of the faces behind GRAVE, an EDM group that performed in the tunnel. He defines renegades as, “basically illegal raves in either public or private property.”
As ravers descended the Sanderson Gulch tunnels on March 28, they were met with armed security guards in tactical gear checking IDs and scanning for weapons. Event organizer No Expectations, an electronic music event promoter, says safety is of utmost importance, despite the events’ unsanctioned and sometimes chaotic nature. Beyond the security checkpoints are hordes of subterranean concertgoers. Deeper in, the crowd, music and lights gradually become more intense. Here, ravers say, all senses are drowned out, and you become one with the music.
These renegades contrast with more mainstream shows hosted in world-renowned venues like Red Rocks and Mission Ballroom.
“Before we knew what the underground scene was like, we just kind of envisioned everything as big festivals, all dubstep oriented, so people spend a bunch of money to basically go take pictures,” Gray said.
Underground shows on the other hand provide what Keiran Perman, Gray’s partner, calls “authenticity.” These shows focus more on the music and providing a good environment rather than the commercial value of the production.
“At least in the Denver scene, it’s a bit of a small pond, so anytime there is some people that are throwing raves—and other people can tell that they are doing it just because they want to play good music and make a good environment—everyone else that throws underground raves is very supportive,” Perman said.
For Floridians Ryan Mihalich and Kole Friese, the faces behind another DIY rave organization Static Proof, authenticity is also a key aspect of the events they organize.
“I kind of saw the scene here and—in terms of house music—it was very commercialized and only being run by a few separate companies,” Friese said. “There were certain niches that we felt weren’t really being catered to, in terms of underground artists. These larger companies really focus on larger artists and we thought it would be more authentic to organize events that give a light to smaller artists in smaller venues that create more of a unique vibe.”
One crucial aspect of the authenticity of these DIY shows is the venue selection. Unlike traditional concert experiences, DIY organizers often try to turn unconventional places into fully-fledged electronic music experiences. In doing so, they create a unique concert experience that traditional venues can’t offer.
“One of our venues was literally inside of a restaurant, another one was a warehouse that was just a big empty space,” said Mihalich, of Static Proof. “Another time we rented a warehouse with a bunch of pillow rooms, so it was more of a loungy vibe. We’ve also had daytime rooftop parties on Sundays. We always try to switch it up and really provide a unique experience that way.”
The rave scene was the peak of the youth counter-culture of the 1990s. Since then, it’s grown from a niche subculture to a standout genre dominating global stages. But that growth has come at a cost according to some fans, as the popularity has driven major investment from large corporations and brands. This has brought with it some benefits, like exposure and opportunities for artists, but it’s also raised questions about the future of the genre’s cultural identity. Julia Taft, one-half of the duo behind event organizer Maybe Forever, said there’s a palpable energy at DIY shows that’s often missing from larger, more commercialized events.
“It’s kind of like supporting an Applebee’s versus supporting a mom-and-pop shop,” Taft said. “Bigger shows at established venues can take away from the point sometimes and be less about the music and its power to bring people together.”
For many ravers, the accepting environment underground raves provide results in a blissful escape from the realities and norms of daily life.
“I like the meditation. I like listening to the music and not thinking about anything, not having to do anything,” said Jackson Dias, who attended the No Expectations tunnel rave. “It’s as if adults were five years old again and we’re all making friends.”
However, just as adults being kids again can lead to happiness and childlike wonder, it can also lead to bad decisions, often in the form of illicit substances. Many people associate rave culture with unabashed drug use, which is oftentimes true. The dark, secretive and visually spectacular venues that host these underground events create a perfect environment for the consumption of popular party drugs such as cocaine, ketamine and ecstasy. But in the age of the fentanyl epidemic, the already risky use of drugs has become exponentially more dangerous. This trend has not gone unnoticed by regular rave-goers and organizers, prompting drug safety to become a cornerstone of the rave community.
“If we could provide an environment where we could provide test strips, Narcan, and all of these harm reduction things—obviously taking drugs is going to happen at these things and my thing is that I really want to make sure people are taking these things, knowing what they are taking and making sure that they are safe. The thing about the Colorado scene is that the drugs are not that safe,” Perman said.
Several organizations in Colorado have centered their drug safety outreach around EDM culture, such as Keep the Party Safe. The campaign, established by the University of Colorado Anschutz, aims to reduce the number of fentanyl overdoses through education. Its website provides information on how to test party drugs, administer Narcan and other tips.
Safety, in both a drug sense and otherwise, is also at the forefront of DIY organizers’ minds when it comes to having a successful event. It goes hand in hand with the music, atmosphere and community underground raves boast.
“I definitely think creating a safe space, that’s really what I personally enjoy. Walking around, seeing everybody just having the time of their lives,” Mihalich said.
Along with drug use, rave organizers must also worry about law enforcement discovering and intervening with their productions. The desire for secrecy pushes groups like No Expectations to keep the dates and locations of their events close to their chests. For No Expectations’ events, hopeful attendees must text a password to a phone number posted on Instagram that only followers can view. Rave-goers then receive a secondary password in response, which is to be entered on a website. Once this password is provided, the website reveals the time, location and directions to the show.
In addition to vital information, the website also reminds patrons, “These gatherings require the cooperation of every single one of you. You are a part of the movement. You are in on the secret. The last thing you want to do is be THAT person who causes things to fail.”
The instructions conclude with a plea to keep activity leading up to the event discreet, quiet and orderly to keep the eyes of the law away from the illegal concerts. Nevertheless, occasional discovery by the police is inevitable. In these instances, the presence of trained security guards like those at the tunnel event lends organizers some credibility, as responding officers can see that the event is under control.
As long as issues like drug use and event security are kept in check, DIY organizers and rave-goers alike believe underground shows offer a safe medium for self-expression and a community that isn’t often replicated in commercial venues. This, for many in the scene, is a good reason to keep the movement alive.
“It’s kind of mind-blowing just walking around the party and seeing people enjoying it and staying for the majority of the night,” said Jordan Perez of Maybe Forever. “I mean, we have people showing up literally at the door before the events. It’s crazy because they’re excited and look forward to it every month.”
