Music

Yasmina stands six inches away from a mammoth speaker that looms menacingly over her. Her face hidden by a visor, movement begins in her hands and slowly spreads through her arms and legs, eventually erupting into a spasm of freaky footwork. Several teen-age hipsters dressed at the height of you're-in-it-or-you're-out-of-it fashion form an impromptu pit around her, draping themselves along the surrounding railings, and watching intently. Only 15, Yasmina feels the vibe. Although this is her first visit to "Packa-Bowl" (dubbed "rave 'n' bowl" by some skeptics), the Thursday night happening at Park Bowl, she is quick to point out that she has been following the DJs -- MARS and Tracy -- for years. Since she was 13, anyway.

"Oh, they play all over the place," she says vaguely, moving off the dance floor. Promoted by Frequency 8 and Ameba, two of the more popular techno and trance record stores in town, "Packa-Bowl" is a very '90s complement to Gilbert Klein's "Rock & Bowl," which has been assuaging the malaise of the Upper Haight black-leather set every weekend for the last 13 years. Complete with several dozen video screens, a state-of-the-art sound system, ample dancing room, and the sound of toppling pins, "Packa-Bowl" is the union of a "consciousness-raising" fringe culture and a lighthearted Middle American sport.

"We have a whole underground following," explains MARS, F8's blue-haired, 23-year-old owner as he leans across a table in the strictly 21-and-over bar area affectionately termed "Greg Brady's attic." "But a lot of our friends are under 21." Faced with the problem currently confronting all local rave promoters, MARS canceled his Tuesday night "Mos Eisley Space Port" event at the Boomerang and took his show to the more accommodating spot across the road. The move has been a success, an average night bringing in 300 to 400 people every week depending on whom you talk to.

"All right," quips a casual observer, "is it ravers bowling or bowlers raving?"

A cursory glance at the action leaves the question unanswered. People appear to select balls carefully, knock over the pins in the proper lanes, and keep score with some sort of diligence; at the same time they tend to wear rave gear, wiggle their bodies an awful lot, and wave their hands in the air whenever approaching the foul line, waiting for a ball, or scoring a strike.

"They're definitely ravers," clarifies doorman Mike LaVella, who daylights as the editor of Gearhead magazine. "Some of the kids that come in here come in at 9 and dance until 2 in exactly the same spot -- it's really freaky. I've actually learned the difference between house, deep house, techno, and trance."

MARS, taking over for guest DJ Ethan, inspires a sock-footed bowler to take a break and dance around the scorekeeping terminal. "I try to go to the underground parties rather than the highly promoted events," says Rusty, a somewhat bashful middle-aged man. "['Packa-Bowl'] is kind of a cross between the two. It's not real slick and 'professional.' "

Professional or not, back at the "speaker pit," Yasmina has stepped off to let 17-year-old Akilah strut her stuff. Clad in oversize pants that only accentuate her tiny frame and a hat which is necessary to keep her tremendous mane of hair in check, Akilah hones in on an underbeat in the techno music that is almost hip hop in nature. Bringing a streetlike intensity to the usual spacey mien of rave dancing, her feet are a blur as she keeps in perfect time with the synthesized rhythms.

Finally enticed, Lucky joins Akilah on the floor. As if meeting a challenger, he matches Akilah's frenetic footwork in everything but energy while adding some slick break dancing moves of his own. Akilah responds with heightened intensity then sidles off the floor -- don't ever let them see you sweat. Yasmina slips in and begins playing off of Lucky's moves while clearly leading him with her distinct style. Combining their talents, Yasmina and Lucky perform an impromptu dance routine with all the flash and competitive spirit of early break dancing street exhibitions, while remaining rooted in techno and trance moves. Their peers merely smile and bob their heads in mild appreciation.

"They're not trying to one-up each other," comments a helpful hipster. "They're sharing. Sharing moves, sharing energy. You don't need drugs when you can move like that."

"The scene isn't about drugs anymore," agrees MARS. "In this scene, people have done about as many drugs as they're going to do. It's about getting out and having fun and dancing."

After a couple of hours, Lucky, Akilah, and Yasmina take a break -- a cue for everyone else to give it a go. Lucky, looking tired, pulls a hoody over his sweaty, slight frame. "I don't party very much, anymore," he says pointedly without looking up. While Akilah had called the Global Party Line to find out about "Packa-Bowl," it is apparent from Lucky's coarse, raw voice and wizened face that a "party" was not his need, but that the night's dancing did him some good.

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