Eris Drew is a pivotal force in rave culture, someone whose energy and grace can overpower any audience, anywhere, at any time. Recently invited to take control of a special Forest Rave stage at Dutch festival Draaimolen, she decided to bring together some of her greatest inspirations – and called up Justin Aulis Long.

The two have known each other for decades, having spearheaded the seminal Chicago night Hugo Ball, a daring fusion of surrealist art theory and electronic music of all shades. Justin is a singular artist, and a key part of Chicago’s underground community – a vastly experienced DJ whose passion for music intersects with every single strand of his DNA.

Currently working on a special tape for Eris Drew’s T4T LUV NRG label, Justin is also preparing to rebrand his Chicago residency in 2025, spotlighting selector culture in the process. The two linked up for CLASH to discuss the magic of rave culture, their intertwining histories, and a lesser acknowledged aspect of Chicago dance history.

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Eris Drew: Octo Octa and I were asked a few years ago to be the host of this stage at Draaimolen, and we kind of took the bull by the horns and really got involved at an organisational level. We helped coordinate everything from the creative stuff, to the real nitty gritty, get-your-hands-dirty stuff. A huge part of the experience of doing this is to really highlight some of the artists that have inspired us.

There’s a whole continuum of artists at play. We were delighted that Justin was able to join us. He’s an artist that has inspired me since I first heard him DJ in 1994. He’s a completely singular and unique artist. I mean, one of the most extraordinary DJs that’s ever lived.

Justin Aulis Long: It was very exciting for me to be invited and to have the opportunity to share in the ritual at your side.

ED: When we started working together years later we were redefining a space and a scene. It was really special, for sure. We wanted to create a different experience – making the uncanny seem familiar. It was the same at Draaimolen. I came a day early, just watching everybody get to work, seeing how the space is set out, how the lights work. It was so special to be able to do that kind of thing again, in all honesty.

J: We learned so much from each other. We spent so much time shopping for records, DJing, hanging out, discussing music, and different ideas of selectorship. We wanted to get back to this idea of what we experienced during our formative years at venues like Medusa’s or the renegade DIY events of the early ‘90s.

ED: The first time I heard Justin play was at warehouse parties in Chicago in the ‘90s. You represent a really special part of Chicago history that is not well documented at all.

J: I remember when we announced Hugo Ball, a new night for the Smart Bar. The name is a reference to one of the founders of Dadaism. I’d returned to art school, studying art history, painting and drawing, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when we got to the Dada movement. There were these punk rockers making noise at the cusp of the First World War! It was like: how do we bring this energy into dance music?

ED: Indeed!

J: The experience at Draaimolen Forest Rave reflected many of our experiences together during our time with Hugo Ball. Constructing and transforming a space with specific attention to details. Recalling the various installations we built. Constructing a DJ altar on the dance floor to remove the barrier between the selector and dancer. Bringing us all closer to being unified in an ecstatic embrace of collective effervescence. To get lost and wander, surrounded by the loving nature of sound. By being different, it gives agency to challenge the status quo and to find your people. 

ED: I think with Hugo Ball we were building off the collective imagination of people in Chicago, too.

J: Growing up in Chicago, everything was house. House was on the radio, at all the bars, school dances – it was the general sonic atmosphere. I had no clue of its geographical importance during that time. I was a skater kid; I was into Dead Kennedys, Black Flag and Misfits. Then a friend gave me a copy of Nitzer Ebb’s ‘That Total Age’ on cassette and that opened the door. I was 13 at the time and a few months later I was invited by a friend to go to Medusas, which was a teen club.

I wasn’t ready for what I was going to walk into. After passing through the threshold, I was basically baptised by sound. It’s where I first heard New Beat and techno and it was being mixed in with Industrial, EBM and house. There was something about the Cold War cynicism of New Beat and EBM that spoke to me. I never missed a weekend after that.

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ED: I didn’t go to Medusa’s with the same regularity as you did, but I’ll never forget walking in there the first time.

J: I started buying records, and got these old model Technique turntables from a wedding DJ. I had no idea about how to mix, no idea about anything musical. I just needed to hear these records. And, you know, I never even got into this to be a DJ. It was the music calling me.

ED: Neither of us let go of those experiences. I don’t know how to explain the decades of fine-tuning, the beat-matching technique that Justin represents. He’s truly one of the greatest, and he imparted so much knowledge on me.

J: DJing is like creating a language. It’s like you’re telling a story. You’re a Homeric poet, and you’re using all these words to create this grand narrative. But it’s also like surrealist drawing; automatic creativity, where one line just leads to the other. You’re in a trance. It’s hard to describe. It’s like you’re transcending time and space.

ED: I’m so grateful to yourself for being this example of adventure and daring, and what it can lead to. Because you’re just following your heart and the thing that you love.

J: It’s all about trusting yourself. You have to have faith and jump into the void – into the abyss. And music is such a grand abyss, where you’re never going to know everything, and you’re always going to find things. You find things through that discovery of just being brave.

ED: Records are spells. Records are time machines. Records are experiences. And each one of us, we’re just like beacons, rupturing from our life experiences and that’s what we give back. At least, that’s what I would like to think.

J: They’re ancestor objects. They’re alchemical devices. They’re objects of fixation and obsession. I mean, I still write magic sigils on a lot of them! I put spells on them! In terms of Chicago dance culture, we built it together. Each one of us is a stitch in that cosmic tapestry. It really was a collective effort to build something special.

ED: That’s something Octo Octa and I both say: we just have to build the thing we want to see. Octo Octa and myself could have gone out on a Friday night, gone to the club, tried to hit on people, or hook up. But no, we were in my house talking about music and chasing dreams. And then building those dreams. Collective effort is what keeps the scene alive. It’s the little parties; the small clubs willing to take risks on artists before they have huge profiles. That’s the heartbeat of this whole thing.

J: The focus shouldn’t be the ego, the focus should be the music. The music is what drives everything. 

ED: I’m a huge believer that there is a spiritual centre to this whole enterprise. Rave had the power to change my life.

J: And I feel like the cat that’s had nine lives! Music has always been at the centre of me, grounding me or saving me. It’s beyond words. It’s magic.

ED: People need to quit talking about like it’s entertainment, and give music the respect it deserves. Let’s create temples of music; let’s create events that can change lives.

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Intro: Robin Murray