Let me start off this column by stating up front that I am an outspoken cynic of underground club culture...
...yet I am a dedicated lover of the music, the scene and culture surrounding it. For nearly twenty wonderful years clubland has been my profession and my passion. I have seen the trends and cycles, the triumphs and casualties of a scene that is built on hedonism and can burn out even the strongest of wills.

The last few years have been rough on people like me, for a lot of reasons. The underground sound has been trumped on the dance floor by over-blown commercial hip-hop. “Superstar” DJs have priced themselves right out out of most markets. The ability to have large one-off events has been rendered all but impossible on both sides of the Atlantic. Once strong, respected labels and distributors have gone belly-up. And, with the success of no-talent DJs playing retro “indie” rock or bands that sound like retro “indie” rock (or worse, Baltimore Club), the last five years have been frustrating enough to make a steadfast cynic pack up his DJ coffin and give up.

...with the success of no-talent DJs playing retro “indie” rock or bands that sound like retro “indie” rock (or worse, Baltimore Club), the last five years have been frustrating enough to make a steadfast cynic pack up his DJ coffin and give up.

Try as I might, it was difficult to see the end of this cycle; that is, until a trip to South Beach for the 2006 Winter Music Conference. The warm sunshine and topless beaches of Miami are enough to recharge anyone's batteries, hence the thriving tourist trade, but this trip was very different for me. I almost didn't go because I was afraid of seeing and hearing more about the end of a scene I love so much; however, an offer to become more involved with the festivities made the working vacation too good to deny.

If the Winter Music Conference is really an industry showcase that reflects the coming trends in dance music, then my 2006 experience has given me hope for the not-too-distant future. I found solace in a couple of key developments.

The first observation was the reduction in both status and role of hip-hop. In recent years the dominance of commercial hip-hop has been a major factor in my staying north. The purveyors of thug-life were noticeably absent this year. The most noise they made in South Beach was in the parking lot of a gas station a few blocks from my hotel, as their ludicrous pimped-out rides blasted forgettable gansta prose day and night. Their enthusiastic street-teams seemed to be having difficulty passing out free CDs around the city. The biggest headline came from a homophobic Busta Rhymes breaking bad on a well-wisher who got a little too touchy at a diner located near a gay club. If this is an indication that the stranglehold that prefabricated, formulaic hip-hop has had on the dance floor is about to let up, then there is reason to celebrate.

Secondly, all the club events that seemed to be having success, from the small poolside parties to the large parties with celebrity DJs at the mega-clubs, all had a decidedly forward thinking slant. Could we finally be over the longing for a return to 80s synth-pop and no-wave? Could beat-matching once again become an important element in DJing? It would seem from this year's WMC, the answer is a resounding YES!

Sun, beautiful ladies, overpriced drinks, and peace of mind. Just what the psyche ordered.