San Francisco Chronicle: Monday, July 19th, 1993

Cyberfest Adds Up To Less Than a Rave


By Elise Ackerman
 Chronicle StaffWriter

	The dusty parking lot in China Basin seemed an unlikely
spot for "the resurrection of unity."

	But thousands of teenage believers, their clothing evoking
clowns, jesters, cabaret dancers, disco queens, flower children and
cyberpunks, stormed San Francisco's warehouse district Saturday night
determined not to let Cyberfest, "a multi-tribal gathering" of the
global youth movement, pass them by.

   	For $25, the teenagers were promised "the ultimate
dance/fantasy world," "a no-expense-spared journey to the outer
limits."


	Pulsating Rhythms

   	The good vibes of l980s counterculture would fuse with the
pulsating rhythms of techno, rap, disco and house. Non-dancing
revelers could chose to join tribal drumming circles, duel to the
computerized death with virtual reality techno-monsters, recharge
under spiritual holistic healing pyramids, ogle cyber organic beings,
evoke cosmic entities in chanting aura circles or bliss out with
organic psychic vibrators.

   	Organizers swore that this was more than just a cyber-age
carnival - this gathering also would express new-age love and
acceptance. "Our vision: the resurrection of unity and the absolute
gathering of all divine souls under the stars," intoned the festival's
information hotline.

	Dirt and Tinsel

   	But little more than dirt and tinsel was reflected in the
moonlight on the 30 acres of vacant land near Fourth and Channel
streets.

   	The organizers of the event, a mysterious 22-year old promoter
named Sasson and an unlisted organization called Cool World
Productions, were as elusive as the fantasy they promised. Messages
left at contact numbers were returned by a production assistant who
would identify himself only as Sean.

   	Sean explained that the event had been promoted through
underground teen networks - on computer bulletin boards, at
alternative record stores, at other underground parties known as
raves.

   	The organizers wanted to avoid "the wrong element," violent or
angry partyers who might not share their vision of an all-embracing
new world. No beer or alcohol would be permited, the kids were
expected to groove to a higher consciousness.

   	Instead of beer trucks, there were "smart bars,"
school-cafeteria tables selling danishes and candy and highly touted
"smart drinks," chemically created compounds of amino acids that
supposedly enhance memory, intensify enjoyment and increase energy. On
Saturday, they turned out to be either orange juice or powdered
carbohydrate for kids, drinks for weightlifters. This fancy version of
Gatorade sells in health food stores for $14.99 for a can of powder.

   	The three massive dance arenas complete with different
atmospheres' turned out to be three carnival tents where light shone
through household-style fans covered with multi-colored celluloid
created rotating color images on tent walls.

	Faced with disappointment, thousands of teenagers milled aimlessly
around the fairgrounds.

	Determined to have a good time, some romped in a giant version
of the McDonald's air balloon for kids, slid down a large slide,
skateboarded or waited in line for the Gravitron, a spinning carnival
ride.

	"Everyone likes to get high." proclaimed a barker for a trapeze
ride that let risk-takers swing from a suspended bar and drop into a
safety net. "Get high up here."

	Acrobatics and amusement park rides aside, this was meant to
be one of the biggest outdoor raves the city has seen. It was big - 
because thousands of teenagers attended - and it was outdoors. But,
otherwise, promises went unfulfilled and few left with much to rave
about.