For Corey Sizemore and Richie Panic, the duo of debauchery behind party institution Lights Down Low, the past nine years have been hazy. They're recounting their party's history to me, starting from the beginning and making their way forward. "I don't know, man, it all becomes kind of a blur," Sizemore says, with an air of resignation. "That's kind of one of the worst things," Panic adds. "Even when I think back, it's always just a blur." He ends his thought with a laugh: "But I guess if you're doing it right, it's gonna be kind of a blur, you know?"
Lights Down Low has, indeed, been doing it right. Launching a party is easy; keeping it going for a year, or two, or three — or nine — is another story altogether. At the beginning, "I didn't know what the fuck I was doing," says Sizemore. "I'd write the guest list on a piece of paper and bring that to the club. We didn't do Excel, didn't do budgets. We ended up learning as we went along, and I wouldn't say it's ... well-polished, but we've got it down now."
The party had humble roots, as many do: "I wanted to play my favorite music, get drunk, and hang out with girls," Sizemore says. "[At first, Lights Down Low was] a small bar night for friends. I knew every single person that was at the party, half didn't pay to get in, and it was just us playing music we liked. When 222 [Hyde, the now-shuttered legendary Tenderloin basement venue where the party began] closed and we had to start booking bigger rooms, I was a little bit older, and thinking about how to fill those rooms."
That next step turned out to be simple on paper, but challenging in practice. "We're always fans first of whoever we book," Panic explains. "[We're looking to] book artists right before they get to the next level. We're sniffing that out. We book whoever we're excited about, and sometimes, a year after we book them, we'll hear their music on a Starbucks commercial. After that, we're done." It's a balancing act for the pair, finding music they're excited about that's both accessible and weird. "But," Panic points out, "first and foremost, [Lights Down Low is about] two guys geeking out over music."
Later, the conversation turns to the myriad ways things have changed over the years, for the city and Lights Down Low. Without skipping a beat, Sizemore sums things up in a single sentence: "[San Francisco] used to have cheap rent and more weirdos." For Panic, it's about people "who are out there finding music, being moved by it, [who love to] take something and dance for 72 hours. I feel like that circle of people is getting smaller all the time." Sizemore adds that "the influx of tech culture [has led to] a real loss of artists and queer and trans folk. [Those communities] just don't exist in the city as much as they used to."
And yet, all is not lost. It turns out that there is a silver lining to the hemorrhaging of San Francisco's dance music community. It has brought the die-hards together in a very real way, something Sizemore has noticed. "When I go to San Francisco now [from L.A., where he currently lives], the people that used to be snobby because I was throwing electro-house parties are now super stoked on me, because we're all kind of the last of the Mohicans, you know? We're all trying to fight the good fight, and because a lot of people have left, the community has become more tight-knit and cares about each other more."
It's a visible change: Speaking as someone who has been going out in San Francisco for six or seven years now, I think club kids, music freaks, promoters, and party animals from all across the spectrum are coming together in ways they simply haven't in the past. And whether or not this banding together is the cause, clubbing — and electronic music experiences more generally seems to be better than ever in 2015.
A short while later, the conversation ends, on a poignant note. "I feel more invested [in San Francisco] with every month that passes by," says Panic. "I want to keep on throwing the parties that I want to go to. I still live for those moments where — it sounds stupid, but — everything comes together, the music is pumping, I'm altered in some way, I'm with my friends, and then I think to myself, I did this with my friends. That's what we're trying to build for everyone who comes to our parties."
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