Sunrise politicsSince about 1997, Goa trance music has become progressively darker and more
minimal. The old type of multi-layered, twinkling, and spiraling trance gave way to
a predominance of a frighteningly deep kick drum and industrial percussive noises,
sometimes getting very close to some Detroit techno and hard electro, with the only
reminder of the old Goa sound located in the bass riff and some weird pad sweeps.
Many no longer speak of “Goa” but psychedelic trance (abbreviated to psy-trance),
“progressive” trance, psy-tech, or acid techno (cf. Chaishop 2002). In Anjuna, this
musical evolution had a strange impact. Many of the older hippies and local boys
prefer the older, happier Goa trance, while the younger generation of ravers now
finds Goa trance tacky, “too hippie.” Most of the charter and domestic tourists, too,
find the new minimal trance too heavy and depressing. As I will argue, this fissure in
tastes has made the striation of smooth dance-floor space possible.
At parties, especially those of late December, the presence of charter and domestic
tourists was always resented by the hard core of hippies and ravers. It is felt that
especially Indians are dressed stupidly, can’t dance, become drunk, and constantly
ask for chillum hits and harass white women. Freaks always tended to arrive a bit
later to ensure that domestic tourists wouldn’t be too plentiful. Moreover, already in
the 1970s, sunrise had attained intense subcultural significance in Anjuna’s party
culture, inciting, through its warmth and light, the feeling of being visible again,
alive again. Still, to get as much out of the acid and music trip as possible, most
freaks in Goa’s early rave scene would get to the party by midnight and often start
dancing straightaway.
In 1998, I visited Goa for my first research trip. While it was already apparent
that the hard core were arriving later, at 4 or 5 a.m., nighttime was still populated
by a mixed crowd, and the music was still enveloping and invigorating enough to
convey a lively atmosphere. By 2000, however, all DJs had quite abruptly switched
to darker trance, and nighttime at parties had become a rather dead affair. Raves in
Anjuna hardly ever have more than a few blacklights, so if there are few people
dancing, there is hardly any visible movement. The darkness of the music coincides
with the darkness of the dance floor. At night, the majority of the dancers are
middle-class males from Bombay, plus a handful of local boys and some white
package-deal tourists. The hippies and ravers who stay in Anjuna for much longer
periods of time sit patiently, smoke chillums, and drink chai. “Too many Indians”
was by then a much-heard justification for going through such pains.
This was even more apparent during the 2001–2 season: a few dozen domestic
tourists trying to make the best of it until the party would properly take off at dawn,
when the freaks started streaming in, most of whom had just awoken. It is a self-
replicating process: the thinner the presence of the freaks at night, the more massive
the Indian presence, the duller the party, the later other freaks arrive. Under the
sun, the reverse: the sheer visibility of the few domestic tourists left on a dance floor
full of whites makes them uncomfortable enough to leave.
GOA TRANCE AND TRANCE IN GOA 279