I’m not sure whether it’s the vibe in the air, the MDMA, or a shared enthusiasm over dance music, but ravers love to show their love — especially to strangers.
In the 2010s, that meant spending hours making kandi bracelets before a show, all in the hope that you would give them away to another person. Doing so was a signature expression of PLUR: “Peace, love, unity, respect,” always treated like a raver’s mantra. I even remember the little ritual of exchanging bracelets: both people make a peace sign, touch them together, then make two halves of a heart, then interlock fingers and pass the bracelet from one wrist to the other.
It’s so saccharine that it makes me a little nauseous. Or maybe that’s just the feeling of youthful cringe in my stomach. Yet even if that era of my life faded quite heavily after 22, the memory is a reminder that, in a weird and shitty world, a little cutesy-cringe ritual is a beautiful thing.
I still see people trading bracelets at electronic music shows, but the last few years have seen the rise of sprouts — little green buds, pinned to a shirt or a hat with an alligator clip. I received one at last year’s Portola Festival, in the middle of a raucous set by hip-hop producer Kenny Beats. I felt sheepish, unable to offer anything in return. Of course my benefactor didn’t care — giving without expectation is so PLUR.
That little green sprout is sitting in my bedroom right now, and I thought of it when I met James Rasmussen, dancing to the melodic thumps of a DJ named Marsh. I noticed Rasmussen from a mile away, thanks to the array of sprouts, leaves, and flowers pinned to the brim of his dad cap. Not long after, I saw him give two of his sprouts away, to two people who had been dancing carefree right in front of him. They fawned with surprise and joy at the offer.
“It’s a part of rave culture, you know? To reward good vibes. That’s how I know when to give one away,” he told me.
Not so long ago, I only saw the basic green sprouts at clubs and concerts — but now, they’re literally flowering into colorful buds, at least at Outside Lands. Rasmussen tells me they're all available online ("Mine are from Amazon," they shrug), and the variety keeps growing.
It’s a sweet little gesture that reminds me of the good ol’ days of PLUR. In hindsight, there was nothing cringe about such earnest emotion. To sprout is to be free.
