Article 2827 of alt.rave:
Newsgroups: alt.rave
Path: agate!ames!haven.umd.edu!uunet!orca!javelin.sim.es.com!pashdown
From: pashdown@javelin.sim.es.com (Pete Ashdown)
Subject: Rave New World (article) (ie: flame away)
Message-ID: <1992Sep16.220021.9935@javelin.sim.es.com>
Organization: Evans & Sutherland Computer Corporation
Date: Wed, 16 Sep 1992 22:00:21 GMT
Lines: 189


Before I throw this at you, I'd like to call your attention to who wrote it.
Not me.  I know there's a few errors in this, but I didn't write it, nor did I
attempt to correct it while transcribing it.  Other than that, I think it is a
fairly unbiased review of the wacky little scene we have here.

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Private Eye * September 18, 1992

RAVE NEW WORLD
by Ben Fulton

   Dressed in a black T-shirt, pin-striped shorts, sneakers, and a bobbing,
bunny-faced necklace, DJ XDZebra (a.k.a. Pete Ashdown, a 25-year-old computer
operator by day) begins to show inevitable signs of concern about his outdoor,
half-moon "rave."
   After filling his Saturday full of errands, phone calls to names on his
mailing list, and last-minute distribution of flyers the night before that read
"DEEP SPACE: Lights by God, Sound by XDZebra," the only complication he's
experienced so far is a bite on the calf from a neighbor's dog.
   Parked outside a convenience store as he waits for a friend buying beer, his
small pickup is packed with a 4000 watt generator, four large JBL speaker
cabinets, an amplifier, card table, various wires and cords, and two very large
plastic covers in case of rain.  Although he's never had one of his raves
formally "busted," XDZebra also has to worry about the police.
   "This is the point you reach where almost anything could go wrong," he
sighs.  "You worry almost needlessly that things won't work out."
   His friend, Dan, by contrast, is light at heart.  "Hey, wouldn't it be
great if a UFO flew over and everyone at the rave saw it?" he asks, offering
comic relief.
   Arriving at a small plateau in East Canyon overlooking the city lights
below, the speakers are put into place.  Close to 80 CDs, the amplifier, and
mixing decks are situated on top and around the card table.  Pulling the
generator cord a few times, as if it were attached to a lawnmower, the sounds
of rave music soon fill the dark mountains and acres of brush.  A lone desk
lamp on the table provides light, at least for now.
   Heard from a distance it sounds like a quiet, underwater noise of booms,
bleeps, and snaps, tinged with faint melody.  Up close, it's a loud, warm,
sheet of sound wrapping the senses in a repetitive, though continually
evolving, 100 beats per minute (bpm).  Far slower than the more frenzied (and
more popular), amphetamine beat of "techno," which pummels along at 140-150
bpm, this is still dance music that's computer-driven and top-heavy on the
electronics.  Like hip-hop or rap, the emphasis is on rhythm as melody, and
that rhythm is stiff, stark, and unrelenting.  Not exactly user friendly on a
first listening, this is music demanding that you work you way inside of it,
not the other way around.  It's music to harden the arteries.
   Pressing one ear to a set of headphones, XDZebra loads a second disc while
the first continues to play, matches the beats, then segues into the next song,
this one faster in tempo.
   "The best DJs create, that can make a rave similar to a rollercoaster ride,"
XDZebra says, speaking in a more relaxed manner, pleased that the clouds in the
sky have cleared way for stars.  "You have to know when to take a crowd up, and
when to take them down."  Problems with the equipment have been minimal, and
though a police car did pass, it didn't bother to stop.  The concern is about
getting busted for excessive noise.
   Unlike the the warehouse raves he and his partner, John Webster, have
thrown, this is too out of the way to attract a large crowd.  Still, after
calling the voice mail number on the flyer for road directions, some 50
enthusiasts have arrived to dance, trance, play catch with black-light-active
"trip toys" in the shape of cylinders or smiley-faces, and general, kick up
dust.  This is the fifth rave they've put on, each one with a different name
and theme.  Their raves seem to appear about every six weeks.  If that's too
long to wait, you can find the rave sound at the Vortex, a private club
offering rave and techno music in a full-dress club atmosphere.
   The atmosphere is friendly, carnival-like.  Even more so when at 1 a.m.
someone dressed in multi-colored Christmas lights appears like a cartoon stick
figure on the side of a nearby hill.  Dancing its way down, the figure
eventually reaches life-size when it nears the dancing crowd.
   "This is my first rave.  It's fun.  Where else could I wear a suit like
this?" says Eric Nielsen, a 31-year-old waiter, checking the battery pack to
his lights.
   The unexpected - What will the DJ play next?  Where will it take place?  How
long will it last? (3 a.m.?, 7 a.m.?  The rave described herein ended at 4
a.m.)  What does it feel like? - may well be the defining element of what a
rave is all about.  Throw a rave and they will come, if you can guarantee it
will be different every time.
   "It's so unregulated, that's what I like about this scene," says Grant
Davis, a 25-year-old professional mountain bike racer.  "It's a private affair.
You don't have the bouncers and all that comes with a club.  You don't need it.
This is underground."
   David Peacock, a 22-year-old design student, strains to explain something
almost ineffable in nature about the rave scene.  "A lot of the punk music I
listened to when I was younger was about despair and bitterness.  I liked the
aggressiveness of punk, but got tired of the bitterness," he says with beer in
hand, eyes skyward.  "Techno music and raves, they're aggressive as well, but
you get a feeling of bliss instead.  I can escape my worries for a while."
   A manic incarnation of the club and music scene in Detroit and Chicago circa
1985, "raves" and "techno" grew out of the DJ culture of "house" and "acid
house" music in both cities.  Call it what you like, but please don't call it
disco.  Granted, it is a dance scene, but ravers aren't as intent on getting
laid as was John Travolta.  The point is to get as much out of yourself and
into the crowd as much as you possibly can, and to have fun doing it.  Or, as
French author Andre Malraux put it, "to translate into consciousness the
largest possible experience."
   "I think it's the same type of feeling as gospel music in a Baptist Church,"
says XDZebra.  "It lifts people's spirits to those same heights, but with a
different type of music and without the religion."
   Captivated by songs such as Todd Terry's "Can You Party?," a Chicago-based
anthem replete with siren wail, and another American record, Phuture's "Acid
Trax," the English and Belgians proceeded to make the music their own by
writing songs comparable in style, throwing huge parties (first called "acid
house" but soon to be coined "raves") in old airline hangers, and adding the
drugs ecstasy (a variant on methamphetamine, also called "X" or "E") and LSD.
   Now made fashionable for America by way of its European allure, the music
went back to where it came from and has grown massively in popularity over a
period of three or so years.  New wine in the old bottles of youth culture
that, in America, too (surprise!), includes the use of (gasp!) drugs.
   At around $25 a dose, ecstasy will make you feel relaxed, sensual,
talkative, and all around at home with the world and everything around you.
"It's like sex for six or seven hours, but not as intense," says a rave fan.
"It's like a long bout of extended foreplay."  Not surprisingly, ecstasy began
life as a pharmaceutical aid for sexually inadequate couples undergoing
therapy.
   Others in the club and rave scene prefer LSD.  "When you're out there
dancing on acid, it's like the music is embracing you," says Kate W., a young
woman who works in retail.  "I'm more into my own little world that way," she
continues, putting on a pair of rainbow or "fractal" glasses.  "Everybody out
there dancing is in their own separate little world, but at the same time we're
all together."
   XDZebra readily acknowledges drug use by people attending raves.  Acid or
ecstasy, choose your camp wisely or don't choose a camp at all, because you may
end up camping in jail: both drugs are illegal.  The drug taking is done very
discreetly, and has yet to cause problems at a rave.  "At our second rave,
someone told me there were a couple of narcs in the crowd, but when you print
out flyers for a rave called, `DOSE.' you've got to expect stuff like that," he
says.
   Originally a scene that remained as underground as possible by admitting
only people attuned to rave culture by way of word of mouth and telephone
networking, early rave promoters didn't mind large crowds as long as the
atmosphere remained personable.
   To the chagrin of many, raves are beginning to turn corporate, complete with
advertisements in newspapers and profits in the tens of thousands.
Complicating matters is a swarm of people, products and trends jumping onto the
rave bandwagon.  Smart drinks; computer-generated visions of "virtual reality";
"cyberpunk" theories of consciousness in the age of technology, and science
fiction literature, none of which has any relation to the real centerpiece of
raves - the music.  Even LSD guru Timothy Leary has shamelessly claimed rave
culture as his own creation, stating it's an offspring of his own '60s Be-ins
and Acid Tests.  But can he dance?
   It's no surprise that whenever a good time appears, a group of people will
be there to suck it dry, exploit its unique appeal, and make a buck.
   XDZebra admits he doesn't like to lose money, but the outdoor rave and
others held in warehouses have lost big, due in large part to cost of
liability insurance required by most landlords before a space can be rented.
Loss of money isn't the real issue, however.
   "You have to keep it underground.  My partner, John, and I decided even when
we threw our first rave that, if a radio station incorporated a rave, we'd
throw one the very same night and charge only one dollar," he says, calmly.  "I
do this for enjoyment, essentially.  I like sharing music with people, and a
rave is the best way to do that.  I can't invite 150-200 people into my living
room, so I do this."
   Once raves become corporate, says XDZebra, so does the spirit of the crowd.
Attending a commercial rave in L.A., he rarely saw people smile.  "It was a
real bad mood, real cliquish too.  To me, that's not what it's about.  The
scene's different here because we're not afraid to take risks, like throwing a
rave on top of a mountain," he says, adding, "People from L.A. have told me
that our raves are what the raves in L.A. used to be like two years ago."
   Perhaps and even greater threat to the original spirit of raves are
journalists eager to give it an immutable definition.  Almost any object of
culture, and especially popular music, loses its attraction once a Ph.D.
candidate in cultural theory gets ahold of it.
   Consider the following excerpts: "[A rave is] a shamanistic-tribal-religious
experience used toward the construction of a bold neurological pedigree,"
writes one.  Wrong.  "[A rave is] a gathering of youth to engage in ritual
dance and techno-shamanism for the dissolution of alienation found in the
modern capitalist system, using the technology of the system," says another.
Even words!  Try again.  "[Raves are] a movement in the process of breaking
down personal, racial, and social barriers."  Perhaps, but don't bet on it.
Youth of the 60's wanted to change the world as well, but some turned around to
vote for Reagan.
   To really get a handle on this thing called "rave," you might want to go
back to the convenience store parking lot where, sitting in the driver's seat
of the pickup, DJ XDZebra still worries about what could go wrong.  Walking out
of the store with a can of soda in his hand, a young boy with short dreadlocks
looks in amazment at all the sound equipment.
   "Look at all those JBLs," says the boy.  "That shit is stacked!  I'll bet it
goes BOOM!"
   "You got it!" says XDZebra with a playful enthusiasm.  And, for a few
seconds, he forgot his worries.


Pictures: cover - People dancing
          inset - dopey picture of me crouching over my mixer
-- 
	"Oh, save me from these pale green pants with nobody inside!"

DISCLAIMER: My writings have NOTHING to do with my employer.  Keep it that way.
Pete Ashdown    pashdown@slack.sim.es.com    ...uunet!slack.sim.es.com!pashdown