"Kiddie raves." It was inevitable that we'd someday see these words, each noxious in their own ways, fused together to form the lexical manifestation of hives. There's also a video. Are you sweating yet?
Kiddie raves can be dated back to the 1850s, when Manhattan degeneracy was arguably at its zenith [citation needed]. Rats and terriers fought to the death, booze could be sucked straight from a barrel and bar patrons were murdered more or less on the regular. There were also bars designed specifically for children, run by child bartenders, serving whiskey in child-sized portions for child prices. The life expectancy in Manhattan was something like 12 [citation needed]. This information is buried deep (too deep, in my opinion) in the pages of Luc Sante's Low Life, but it's not the sort of thing you forget once you've read it.
Fast forward 160-odd years. Once beloved nightspots have succumbed to baby gyms. Children, attached as they are to iPads, probably aren't getting their recommended dosage of exercise, so it becomes necessary to enroll them in pricey fitness classes so they don't become doughy and thus undesirable to play with during school functions.
EDM (Electronic Dance Music) was created when Satan began DJing random house parties during his days as a business major at Temple.
Which brings us back to Kiddie Raves. This particular version was founded by husband and wife Jesse Sprague and Jenny Song, both fixtures in the early '90s night club circuit. (They met at Jean Paul Gaultier’s 40th birthday party.) CirKiz is held sporadically at the Meatpacking club Cielo.
"He loves this kind of music," says Dewitt Oliver, whose son, Dewitt Joseph Oliver, rides atop his shoulders. "It was the only place I could find to take him. You know, normally you gotta be older to come."
Oliver sounds resigned about his options for kiddie raves. Some might argue that one kiddie rave is way too many kiddie raves. I wandered around Brooklyn for 45 minutes a few Saturdays ago in vain search of a place to eat some mozzarella sticks—it was only 2 a.m. But yeah, bummer about the paucity of kiddie raves.
The raves go from 1 to 5 p.m., leaving plenty of time for a bumping after-party. General admission is $20. There is a cash bar for adults, probably sponsored by the Post in anticipatory headline chop-licking. Mom Arrested After Drunken Brawl At Meatpacking Child Rave. Babysitter Stabbed In Eye With Glow Stick Following Drunken Brawl At Meatpacking Child Rave. The reality will only be worse. Can it get worse? Are you sweating yet?
