"It's hard to talk to women at raves," says 19 year-old
Ben Crooks. "The big beats drown
out small talk. If you really need to, you can go to a "chill-out"
room for get-to-know-you conversation. And if you really need
them, there's a moderate amount of drugs." But for him,
raves are all about the music. "Real party kids don't do
drugs. We go to dance and have a good time." Crooks continues
"A lot of people don't understand it, but the guitar thing's
been done. Electronic music is all I listen to. It beats my heart."
First we had the Beat Generation; now we have the Beats-per-Minute
Generation. And it's not just about drugs like ecstasy. Simply
defined, a rave is a party - often an all-night-long party - at
which some form of electronic, or "techno," music is
played, usually by a deejay. A rave can be as small as 25 people
or as large as a million. Last weekend, more than 30,000 ravers
attended Monster Massive, a megarave in LA. While raves have been
around for more than a decade, the rituals, visuals and sounds
associated with raves have finally started to exert a potent influence
on pop music, advertising and even computer games.
Several new films about raves, including the documentaries Better
Living Through Circuitry and the British comedy Human Traffic.
As stated by Jason Jordan, author of Searching for the Perfect
Beat, a new book about raves and visual art: "Rave culture
is youth culture right now."
"Rave culture is affecting pop culture in ways similar to
the Beat Generation - and it's being misinterpreted in the same
way," says Greg Harrison, director of Groove, a fictional
take on the rave scene. "In the case of the Beats, a complex
and subtle ethos was distilled by pop culture to marijuana, goatees
and poetry. I would argue that just as there was much more to
the Beats, there's something more subtle and interesting about
the rave scene."
To find a rave, you might surf the Net and check out sites like
so-calraves.com or ravedata.com, or you might just ask a friend
in the know. Raves have traditionally been held in venues without
permits or permission, giving them an outlaw allure. Today, however,
an increasing number of raves are legal ones, and places like
The LA Sports Arena and Ministry of Sound in London specialize
in re-creating the rave feel in legitimate venues.
Ravers often wear loose, wide-legged jeans that flare out at the
bottom; knickknacks like lollipops, pacifiers and stuffed animals
are all common accessories. Dancers often carry bottles of water
to battle dehydration, which can be aggravated by ecstasy. They
sometimes dress in layers, so clothes can be stripped off if the
going gets hot. In addition, glow sticks are also very popular
accessories.
One sound you'll hear if the party is going right is a communal
whoop of approval when the deejay starts riding a good groove.
"The first rock-'n'-roll shows were dance events," says
Big Top promoter Mark Silver, who has worked with best-selling
electronica acts such as Chemical Brothers and Prodigy. "Now
it's about deejay culture." In the movie Groove, the filmmakers
refer to that connection between deejay and dancer, between promoter
and satisfied raver, as "the nod." "Many rave promoters
and deejays don't do it for the money. They do it for the nod."
(Line in the film Groove)
One electronic musician who is definitely getting the nod these
days is the American deejay-composer Moby. Most deejays a decade
ago were faceless shadows lurking behind turntables. Now deejays
associated with the rave scene - like Paul Van Dyk, DJ Dan, Ron
D Core and BT - are artists, celebrities, and superstars. "If
Stravinsky were alive today, this is the kind of music he'd make,"
says BT, who composed music for the rave movie Go (1999). "It
just affords you a broader sonic palette to work from."
Moby has used his palette skillfully. He got his start as a deejay,
but he also sings and plays with a backing band when he is on
tour. His 1995 album Everything Is Wrong sold about 125,000 copies.
His critically acclaimed new album Play, which samples old blues
songs and sets them to futuristic beats, has sold 20 million copies
worldwide. The rave scene is catching on with a new generation
of fans. According to his interview in the documentary Better
Living Through Circuitry, Moby believes, "The consolidation
of all the different record companies under big multinational
parent companies, has spawned the current crush of mass-produced
teen pop acts. Your BMGs, your Sonys, your Time Warners ... nothing
against these companies, but they buy music companies and they
expect music to perform the way that, say, snack cakes or liquid
paper performs. There's so much commercial emphasis on disposable
pop music that I think it leaves a lot of people desperately looking
for other types of musical expression."
One of the most creative ways in which rave culture expresses
itself is its fliers. They are to raves what graffiti art is to
hip-hop and psychedelic posters were to the acid rock of the '70s.
They give vision to rave's sounds; sometimes they appropriate
corporate logos with ironic visual twists. The MasterCard logo
becomes "MasterRave," or Rice Krispies becomes "Rave
Krisp Es." Other flyers employ 3-D images and wild metallic
hues that draw inspiration from sci-fi films. As Mike Darling
explains, "It's open and unrestricted, and it's a testing
ground for combining visual elements."
Rave iconography is already being used by American advertising,
which has learned all
about digging up the underground and selling the dirt. Toyota
is sponsoring a U.S. tour of the British electronica act Groove
Armada and Jensonic.com for BT. Every song on Moby's 18-track
album Play has been licensed, popping up in movies like The Beach
and in Nissan commercials.
Many ravers are wary and weary of what the media has embraced.
In particular, many believe that the press is more interested
in writing about drugs than about the music. And that the press
coverage is partly to blame for the supposed ecstasy boom.
Indeed, some of the biggest acts associated with the rave scene
say they are drug free. Van Dyk says he was introduced to electronic
music in East Germany, when he secretly tuned in to West German
radio as a kid. He didn't need drugs to enjoy the music then,
so he figures he doesn't need them now. Moby says he tried smoking
pot when he was 11 or 12 so he could hang out with the "cool
kids," but that was pretty much the end of his experimentation.
Says Moby: "I've never tried ecstasy, I've never tr ied cocaine,
I've never tried heroin. I don't think there's anything ethically
wrong with drug use, but the reason I stay away from it is that
I value my brain too much. I don't want to trust mysynapses tosome
stranger that I met in a nightclub. I hope to use my brain for
the rest of my life."
Every few years somebody says music is going to break out, that
electronic acts are going to storm the charts. A couple of years
ago, Prodigy and the Chemical Brothers were supposed to lead the
charge. They sold well, but few like-minded acts shared their
success. This year it's Moby, and perhaps acts like Alice Deejay
and others will follow.
Maybe this time rave culture is here to stay ... or maybe it'll
slip safely back into the underground with alternative rock. With
horrifyingly generic teen-pop acts blaring out from MTV day in
and day out, it's a wonder more kids haven't turned to drugs to
escape the awful racket. Sure, a fair amount of electronica is
wordless wallpaper, but slip on Moby's soulful, cerebral Play,
and you won't need any substances to get high. The music will
take you there all by itself.
-Dan Kilker