There is no future in the past -- Sorry, Mark Farina!

I never thought I would see the day when I wasn't excited about Mark Farina playing in Orlando; he was one of the first DJs I ever fell in love with almost 10 years ago and his influence strongly shaped my musical taste. I spent the entire week leading up to Farina's performance at Firestone this past Saturday contemplating why I did not feel more enthusiastic. Is it me? Has my current obsession with heavy electro music tainted my opinion? Have I changed so much that I can't appreciate what once meant so much to me? After much deliberation on the subject, I decided the answer was no, proven by a nostalgic look back at his catalog.



As you can see from the photo above, the decline started with Connect: no one wanted to like this mix more than I did, but there was no denying how boring it was. The lameness continued through the disastrous Air Farina, his first stab at producing tracks (zzzzzz), the Live at Om double CD with Derrick Carter (both booorrrriiinnngggg), Mushroom Jazz Vol. 3 and Vol. 5 (although I loved Vol. 4, which almost crushes my whole line of reasoning), and the House of Om release he is currently whoring promoting on his Myspace. I listened to the "exclusive podcast mix" from his page recently just to compare how his style had evolved throughout the years -- turns out it hasn't. The first song he plays is his own remix of Iz and Diz's Love It Dub from 2002 that echoes memories from that year's Winter Music Conference.

Most of the people who showed up to see Mark Farina were only there for his brand name; a name they have heard a million times, a name that brings a certain level of comfort. Nevertheless, they were bored by his music and you could see it in their eyes: the idea of seeing "Mark Farina" far surpassed seeing him in real life because the memory of what he used to be exceeds anything he will do in the future. Observe the following photos (ignore the obvious photo quality differences when comparing):

Bored.


Not bored.

Photo by Kevin Collier, KColl Designs

Same club, same night of the week, two very different audiences. One is colorless and the other is vibrant; one looks back as the other looks ahead. Which crowd would you rather be in?

As I stood in the upstairs loft at Firestone and listened to the future music being played by Mot and Andrew Spear, I gazed down to the dance floor through the glass windows and observed Mark Farina performing for his crowd. They will always be stuck in the year 1999 and will never evolve to become anything more; it is the comfort zone where he and his fans wish to stay. I felt as though I was watching my past flash before my eyes: I saw my 19 year-old self dancing uncontrollably in a sea of people, experiencing things she was only naive enough to do at the time. While I appreciate these moments of reflection, I will not cling to them for dear life. Dance music is not about clutching the one fiber of greatness you loved "back in the day when things were cool." It continues to be about relentlessly forging ahead and constantly discovering whatever is new. Anyone who doesn't keep up will inevitably get left in the dust to become the old guy in the club who complains about how "the scene just isn't what it used to be." No one likes that guy.

Ironically, my contemplative flashback was set to the Justice remix of ZZT's Lower State of Consciousness -- a song that epitomizes new-meets-old, crazy-meets-awesome, future-meets-past rave music -- which seemed all too fitting in the moment. And I found my current 28 year-old self grateful for the ability to progress into the unknown (yet ever-exciting) future of music, without dwelling in those "good old club days" forever.