A couple kegs of swill beer were usually enough to satisfy the esteemed guest's thirst but there were grumblings at the Holly house about a lack of sophistication in the weekend routine. "It's fancy they want, it's fancy they'll get," we said. Thus, the Joose party was born. Joose, a canned energy drink with a double dose of caffeine and alcohol, was pilloried and subsequently outlawed by the Federal government in late 2010 due to its penchant for inducing seizures, heart palpitations, and a zombified state of perpetual sleeplessness. But back in those heady days, before the full extent of its malice had been revealed, Joose was just a green dream in the idealistic minds of peace-loving partygoers everywhere. We bought three cases and poured them into a great big plastic tub, added a spot of kool-aid, and emptied three handles of Aristocrat into the mix for good measure. "Drink up!" the sign above it declared to the young men and women sauntering in through the rear.

The evening’s festivities began well enough. The dance floor downstairs overflowed and there was movement in all rooms. The iPod, stereo system, c.d. player, and noisemakers were all plugged in. Midnight came, then 1 am, 2 am o.k., but 3 am things were weird. Folks shoulda been a'leavin but the Joose party was raging on, kind of. Few had left and most were still dancing, some going on five solid hours. The would periodically pause only to stumble inexorably towards the tub, mill about in the slowly gyrating crowds on the main level then return, grasping what appeared, in the dim lighting, to be red plastic cups full of radioactive ooze.

As for me, earlier in the evening when the odd concoction started circulating in my system, I began recording (both in my room and in the party at large), manipulating, and assembling a series of noise collages. I had an editing console and a massive set of PA speakers at the far end of the half-underground dance floor so around 5am, armed with a handful of strange new prototypes and a thumb full of other monstrosities, I took over DJ duties for those ghostly souls still swaying under the powerful spell. The room was illuminated by a tangled web of glowing neon green lights that shone on haggard faces and glazed, weary eyes. What the were doing could no longer be called dancing. The Joose zombies were spasmodically jerking their limbs in a crude symmetry with the sounds emanating from the speakers. Tilting precariously forward , listing but never falling they marched in place, literally, physically unable to stop dancing as long as that mess coursed through their veins. To my delight, the weirder and more dissonant the music became, the more intense the reaction, lurching, flailing, and moaning as the tracks reached a cacophonous pitch. Mercifully, I ran out of steam around 7, cut the power, and watched as the whole room succumbed to exhaustion and collapsed right where they stood. I rolled off my chair and joined them on the cold tile floor.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is the story of IDose. A few tracks such as Glitch, Jellyfish, Whacky Whack, and jim have significant portions unchanged but every tack has at least one part recorded or invented during that course of that event.