E-town Rave History Papers: 1992

Fueled by techno music and neo-hippie vibes, a wave of "raves" is putting a new spin on the pop scene

Publication Title: TIME Magazine, Vol. 140, No. 7
Publication Date: August 17, 1992
Author: Guy Garcia
Source: Hyperreal Media Watch

The skinhead's T shirt says SMILE - IT'S THE APOCALYPSE. and judging from the scene around him, maybe it is. Several hundred young hedonists join him in dancing wild tribal stomps as strobe lights flash and 50,000 watts of techno-house music blast from the speakers of a New York City nightclub called the Shelter. On the fringes, others watch an upside-down projection of Flintstones cartoons or sidle up to the nonalcoholic "smart bar" for bottled water or vitamin-enriched fruit juice. "It's a good crowd tonight," observes Moby, a techno deejay with a loyal following. "I don't sense the usual nightclub aggression."

The high-decibel delerium is "Time-capsule One" of a weekly Friday-night event billed as "NASA" (Nocturnal Audio and Sensory Awakening), an all-night techno "rave" that culminates with breakfast and bungee jumping from a Hudson River pier as the sun's first rays warm the spire of the Empire State Building.

"It's a love circle," explains Laze, a 26-year-old graffiti artist from the Bronx who has also attended raves in Philadelphia and Washington. "It's like a 1960s scene - all the races are together, dancing, having a communal experience. We want to go to Woodstock and rave for a whole week."

Ravestock? It just might happen. This summer, from San Fransisco to Berlin, Detroit to Paris, a wave of raves is overtaking conventional night life with unbridled energy and a brash new sound. Part funky fashion show, part techno music dance-a-thon, part politically correct flea market, raves are loopy high-tech love-ins laced with a playful sense of the absurd (and a dollop of illicit drugs).

Raves mirror the national disenchantment with the traditional, the conventional, the status quo - whether in politics or pop music. Their appeal lies in their quirky spontaneity and vaults of rhythmic rapture. By singing the body electric in a blizzard of refracted light and pumped-up sound, ravers embrace a collective catharsis - and sometimes one another - in a cuddly bear hug.

"It's the disco of the '90s but with a harder edge and without the lyrics," says Eddie Hardesty, who runs Street Sounds, a techno-music store on Los Angeles' trendy Melrose Avenue. "It's a form of release from everyday life."

At the pounding heart of every rave is the galvanizing, metronomic beat of techno, a term coined to describe an intensely synthetic, hyperkinetic form of dance music that was born in Detroit during the mid-'80s. A fusion of the futuristic computer-driven sound of the European bands like Kraftwerk and the rhythmic possibilities of computer-controlled keyboards, techno caught on first in Britain and Belgium, where it became the sound track for marathon "acid house" parties.

Raves can, and do, happen almost anywhere - on moonlit beaches, in empty warehouses, and in open fields - thanks to an underground networking system and mobile electric generators that use telephones, flyers, and maps to get the word out in with as little as 24 hours' notice. Like the hit-and-run "outlaw" parties that took place in Los Angeles and New York during the mid-'80s, ravesare often illegal affairs that operate one step ahead of the authorities.

The controlled substance of choice for some technoites is Ecstasy, a synthetic mood-elevating drug that is roughly akin to amphetamines in the long-lasting rush it provides. It has been illegal since 1985 but is easily obtainable on the black market. Others frown on drug and alcohol use, stressing that intoxication is extraneous to the rave experience. "The rave scene isn't about fashion or getting high," says DJ Disaster, 26, who is co-producing "Psycho Splash '92," a rave taking place this week in an aquatic theme park outside St. Louis. "it's about forgetting who's going to be President and having a good time."

That escapist streak is evident in rave clothing, which tends towards loud primary colors, patterned wool caps and untucked shirts emblazoned with peace signs, happy faces and corporate logos. A key part of the look is "trip toys," or out-of-kilter trinkets and prankish paraphernalia like op-art jewelry, prism eyeglasses and fluorescent body paint. "A trip toy is something that will catch people's attention and make them smile," says Niles Peacook, who attends raves with a ball-point pen that transforms into a tiny soap-bubble blower. "The whole purpose is amusement."

Ravers have recycled the hippie mantra "Do your own thing" and given it an up-to-the-second spin. A cross-country traveling rave called "The Moveable Feast" will tour with circus-like tents at outdoor sites in Los Angeles, San Fransisco, New York, Chicago, Detroit, and Washington. "There'll be booths where people can get information from groups like ACT UP and Rock the Vote," says promoter Philip Blaine, 24. "It's a positive feeling. Where else can you get thousands of people together with no fights or racial tension?"

In Europe, where the techno movement took off during the late '80s, raves have reached mammoth proportions. The so-called Worldwide House Nation gathered in Berlin last month for a mega-rave billed as "The Love Parade." Accompanied by about 20 trucks laden with computers, techno deejays and powerful sound systems, 7,000 revellers danced down the city's main street, then converged for an all-night rave. An even larger rave is planned in Mannheim on Aug. 29. And raves are still going strong in Belgium and England, where some events have attracted as many as 20,000 people.

While techno has yet to produce a Top 10 pop hit, its audience is steadily growing. In Los Angeles at least three radio stations are devoting significant airplay to the format (one, MARS-FM, restored its all-techno format after cutbacks provoked a storm of listener protest). Major labels like Sony and RCA are signing up groups and putting their marketing muscle behind techno music. Techno compilation CDs recently released by Profile Records and Zoo Entertainment are selling briskly.

But not everyone is thrilled to see raves enter the mainstream. "It used to be elite, and now it's kind of common," complains Andrea, 20, a raver who got into the techno mode on the West Coast. "A lot of people are jumping on the bandwagon." The danger is that as the scene becomes larger and more commercial, it risks losing the cosy counterculture atmosphere that drew people to it in the first place. To keep that from happening, ravers will have to find a way to maintain their subterranean spirit, even as they spread good vibes around the masses.

-with reporting by Sally B. Donnelly/Los Angeles and M.E. Sarotte/Bonn

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