Cave party

So I’m in Playa del Carmen, which is a resort town on the east coast of Mexico.  It’s stunningly beautiful, no doubt about it, and of course that means that it’s also a fortified orgy-pit for the rich and deranged, surrounded by jungle and impoverished Mayans whose ancient language is now used to name condominium complexes, whose sacred architecture is now imitated by mega-hotels, whose children now collect beer cans for change from the beach — a teetering Versailles, except with silicone implants instead of art.  There was some kind of electronic music fesitival going on last weekend, which was attended by many jet-setting Paris Hilton types and roaming gangs of dudes with enormous pectorals and backwards baseball caps, everybody twitching and fist-pumping and girls-gone-wild-ing as waves of narcotics and digital thumping assaulted their sun-shrivelled brains.  The other night we were in a club which is built into a cave – super cool, truth be told, except for the ambience of prowling and predation, and of course I thought of our cave-people puppet show, because here were people in a cave, having a party.  I realize that I imagine cave-people having really great parties.  I remembered the beautiful promise of early electronic music culture, which filtered its way to me back in the early nineties in the form of rumours – I missed the whole thing, because my generation was still in the grunge phase, which was more about beer and mosh-pits – stories of parties in the wilderness driven by a kind of one-blood/one-heart ecstacy-induced mysticism, not far from what I imagine Woodstock promised, in which everybody gathered together in a rhythmic trance and felt their universal bond.  Not so much the vibe nowadays, at least in Playa del Carmen nightclubs, which feel devoid of beautiful utopian visions, of a future, in fact – it’s kind of the dark side of the Now.  But what’s the beautiful utopian vision I was looking for?  The tribe, I think.  The kind of intense bond a wolf must feel for its pack, or a cro-magnon must have felt for es comrades and family, gathered in their cave, together against the beasts and the terrors outside.  It’s been said before, but it seems to me that modern society has severed many bonds that used to be the architecture of our lives – the communion of church, of soldiers, of tribe, of extended family, and so on.  Theatre itself is a kind of attempt to return to that state – except that it doesn’t do it well anymore.  I’d love it if we could create a sense of connection, not just between the audience and the performers, but also between the audience members themselves.

About Judd Trout

Judd Palmer is one of the Old Trouts.

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One Response to Cave party

  1. mamatrout says:

    if ever there was a sense of connection created between everyone who heard it, it was by Pres. Obama, in his speech at the University of Arizona following the massacre of a couple of weeks ago in Tuscon.'s%20speech%20in%20tucson&search=Search&sa=X&oi=spell&resnum=0&spell=1