Many Drug Memories Ago...

...I was at an outlaw party in an abandoned warehouse in West Philly, whacked out of my mind on some really strong E and acid (a practice known as "candy flipping"). Everything was so epic to me. I felt as if the world was ending that moment, and it was beautiful. Suddenly, my hazy thoughts are interrupted by a burst of noise from the speakers: it's a thunderous boom of what sounded like horns used in battle. The sound was so powerful and strident, it enveloped everything in its path. Whatever the DJ (Scott Henry) was playing, it was simply magic stuff.

I tried for a few weeks after that to get a hold of that showstopping horn track. I scoured the new releases racks in the dance record shops, and asked around. Finally, it ended up on a Scott Henry mix tape that I bought, and I got to hear that magic track whenever I wanted. Only, the thing is, the track wasn't so magic after all. You may remember this one.

Yeah.

...Maybe a year later, I was in a club, again soaring high on some really good E. I was thoroughly enjoying the set, which was some pretty high energy dream house and trance (I can't recall the DJ though). Suddenly, the beats stopped, and everything was silent, save for some lovely synth washes. Eventually, I could hear an angelic voice emerging from the swathes of silken melody, kissing my ears with words that I could barely make out. Something about "a better one." Was it "Are you the better one?" Or "In a better world?" I had to know what this song was, it was so fucking beautiful to me. So fragile, almost sad. So special and majestic. And the fact that I had no idea what this mystery woman was saying to me was perhaps part of the appeal. I heard the track couple more times in clubs, again on drugs, and always I got this same feeling; that warm, inviting voice slowly emerging from the ether and tugging my heartstrings before the surging beat returned to carry the song to anthemic heights.

I also tried my darndest to find this track, and this one was more elusive than the first. A good deal later, my friend mentioned that she bought some new tracks and asked if I wanted to hear her spin them. We went to her place, and she pulled out her first record. She said she was ultra excited to get this, that this was a track that everyone loved, and that I'd know it right away when I heard it. And, lo and behold, as soon as I heard it, I realized that this was my cherished song! Only, this time, the magic was completely gone, and my angel-soft mystery anthem was replaced with this!

Pretty embarrassing.

So, yeah, I guess the moral of the story is:


Do drugs.


Do a lot of drugs. Because if drugs have the power to turn these pieces of shit into the glorious crescendos of feeling that I've experienced, into profound emotional moments, then there's no telling what other wonders they can do.

The End.

E is for Energy

Okay, it’s not that surprising that I got into the music of the rave scene. There was, after all, the drugs, which I readily sought out and enjoyed. There was also the appeal of partaking in (admittedly, the dying gasps of) a cultural movement that, unlike punk or goth, was still around for the partaking. And, though I’d been loathe to admit it for most of my life, I’ve always had an affinity for dance music.

Strangely enough, my now open affection for dance and club numbers (even the trashy throwaway crap) is part of the reason why I’m reluctant to embrace my history as part of the rave scene. Trance, house, techno and such are all touted as gold standards of dance music. Their presence is now ubiquitous: you’ll hear this stuff in cartoons, in cosmetics stores, in restaurants, and countless club mixes of famous songs. But while the general phrase “dance music” will likely conjure the 4/4 stomp of TR-909 drum kits in most people’s heads, the truth is that I don’t find that style to be good dance music at all.

Dance music should, of course, make you want to dance. It should also sustain and replenish this urge, so that the dancing is relatively continuous. Trance and techno rarely made me want to dance, unless I was on some speedy E and would dance to pretty much anything. At best, the thunderous thumps of these tracks make me want to bob my head. But that’s it. My body is not called to action. Instead, I end up in a trancelike state, due to the relentless repetition of the sounds. Which was totally fine for me in my partying days, since “partying” often meant sitting slumped against a wall in a club or factory, deep in a K-hole. Breakbeats are a little better for body movement than the simple streamlined throb of standard rave fare, so they kind of make me want to dance. But they’re repetitive too, and my urge washes away after only a few minutes.

No, there’s so much more music out there that actually makes me want to get up and get down. I think the playlists from Studio 54 in the early 80’s (including Liquid Liquid and Yoko Ono, among many others), and the Madchester music of the Hacienda in the late 80’s had stuff that moved bodies, and offered much more variety than the endless boom shi boom shi boom shi of typical rave music. New Order made joyous dance anthems, and they featured a wide range of textures, tempos, rhythms, and beats. Even the Eurodance stuff (think Haddaway’s What Is Love), which all sounds pretty similar, makes for a better dance experience, due to the punctuation provided by distinct songs, rather than unleashing a seamless melding of indistinguishable tracks.

That variety is crucial for an optimum dancing experience. Variation within a song, and variation from song to song. It provides points of contrast that turn one’s time on a dancefloor into a dynamic journey, rather than movement in a vacuum. I don’t even think this is just my own personal preferences. If you’ve ever been to a rave, I’m sure you noticed that most of the kids who weren’t doped into oblivion were dancing in curious ways. Almost no hip or pelvis movement was present, it was almost always a stiff, treadmill-type hop that kids did to the propulsive stomps of techno and trance. Given the nature (and speed) of the beats, it seems like an appropriate way to move to the music. But unless you’re meth’d out of your mind, that shit is boring as hell. No fun at all.

Even if you go to a trashy Jersey Shore type club, you’ll see more variety of movement there. And it’s no surprise that, in addition to trance and house beats, the DJs often mix in high-energy rap and R&B cuts as well, not to mention the occasional 80’s club track. Yes, the dancing is raunchier and far less “cool,” but there’s a lot more hearty fun being had at these places, trashy though they may be. I’m convinced that the endless barrage of simple repetitive beats mixed by DJs at raves encouraged the use of harder drugs, since it induced a trancelike state in party goers that is quite far from dancing.

Maybe if they had thrown in a little ABBA or Gang of Four once in a while to provide some contrast, people would have concentrated on the dance floor, the drugs would have remained casual and fun, and the scene wouldn’t have turned so dark. Who knows?

All I know is that if they would have played shit like this more often, maybe I would have stuck around.

Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this.