Judgement Day was the first real ticketed event for ETA45. Before this, our first two events were
held under the bridge at 600s 600w. After 60+ people showed up out of nowhere, we decided
to start looking for venues. This is way back when I had no idea what I was doing.
I still dressed business casual.
I remember walking up to Jules, one of the guys that ran Black Lung Society in the industrial
west side of SLC. I asked him how to host an event after seeing Olivia Bigelow play a
rap/punk show there. The sound was absolutely hideous.
Human Part was still involved with ETA at this time. The flyer was all his idea, and in his
usual fashion, he sent about
50 drafts before we landed on the final flyer.
All the people on the lineup were essentially strangers to me then. Eliana, who would later
on become one of my closest friends, thought I was some unhinged maniac that lived in a den.
She always talked about how she was surprised to see I lived in a clean apartment after that.
This was also the start of the promo videos. I made a shitty video edit of the national dog
show with Alsou's "Before you love me" vocal mix.
Thinking back on it now, I probably wouldn't enjoy this event at all. I had never been to a
rave before in my life, only New City Movement's dance parties. I was weird, naive, and
proably a late bloomer all things considered. That being said, I didn't really know how to
throw a good party. (Still don't) But when I watch the videos, I can see that this was a
moment where many of us met. I see a bunch of kids that were definitely having the time of
their lives. It was notied in other cities and sparked many online friendships I still have
today.
As for the event itself, it was a LOT of punks. Remarkably the place was packed.
People I never even knew existed in this city showed up thanks to the absurdity of the flyer
Human Part made. That was exactly what we wanted after all. We despised rave culture at that
time.
I think no
one knew what Judgement Day was so a lot of different people showed up.
Some the type of ravers you would see at the (now non-existent) Desert Basin. (That place was really just a fucking traphouse but it was fucking sick when I was into doing drugs all the time.)
Some the type of ravers that never went to raves and just looked at videos online.
Some the type of punks that didn't care what was going on they just wanted LOUD music to throw
hands to and that was EXACTLY what they got.
Some kid was getting spun in circles on someone elses head, shirts were off, everyone
was sweating, tables were broken and we all rejoiced as hardcore dance now had a home for the
first time in Salt Lake City.
Jules came up to me after.
"Let's make some money."
A phrase that would reveal itself to be a timeless favorite of venue owners everywhere.
