Dance music has a Balkanization problem. Technology's proliferation has led to a menagerie of genres: house, techno, hard house, hard techno, tek house, hip-hop, NU-NRG, ambient, ambient dub, down tempo, down-tempo ambient dub, drum'n'bass, jungle, gabba, garage, etc. If you have a BPM and some samples, chances are there's a name for whatever you're doing.

Thus, any gathering attempting to transcend all these micro-scenes takes a while to find its own sense of identity. Such was the case last weekend at Portland State, when the school's student-run Popular Music Board staged one of the most ambitious and inclusive electronic events Portland has seen in recent memory. "Binary" gathered artists from around town and across the country for the edification of Portlanders.

PSU's young Vikings had an advantage: state funds. Too right, I say! On a day taxpayers' money is used to bomb Iraq, it's only fair that we should shake our arses courtesy of the same bank account. Of course, it's all well and good to say that you want to expand horizons, but "does it all come together"? A journey through the many twisting paths of Binary's several rooms, many DJs and various performance distractions yielded a definitive verdict of maybe.

I headed up to the event's main room to catch some of the live audio-visual action courtesy of Kit Clayton and Sue Costabile. The crowd sat cross-legged on the dance floor, taking in three massive screens set up above the stage. Colors and images manifested across the room, dilating pupils as banks of flashing digital equipment spat out subversive--yet minimal!--sounds that made you go "hmmm."

In the lounge, I caught a little of Portland's CNSE, bobbing and weaving through a medley of pumping beats and snappy rhythms. Over in the main room, John Beltran and Sol Set took to the stage, and live instruments and electronic backbeats filled the room. People began to file in, drawn to the duo's analog-digital blend.

Behind us, Paper Airplanes, a live trapeze act, was bathed in a swirling purple light. They swayed back and forth on scaffolding towering over the group of open-mouthed onlookers. Looking slightly uneasy with some of their routines, they still managed to draw smiles and bursts of applause.

Still, as I circulated through Binary, I sensed some hesitancy: Some people worried the crowd wasn't big enough for a truly "inspirational" party; others fretted that Portland's nightlife just isn't ready to embrace such diversity.

Any music--from the Mongolian chants of a few Mongolians to the screams of a German metal band that's just set its singer on fire--provides a great escape from this trial called life. If Binary demonstrated anything, it showed that Portland's masses hunger for that experience. Seems people need to relax a little and let it happen.