Rise of Rave Part 3

Go to Part 1

 

John Peel's favourite band; The Fall in one of their ever changing incarnations. Image: furious.com

80s music was and is unfairly maligned – the decade managed to produce some breathtaking and incendiary music. Many young people hoped to relieve their boredom by catching their heroes on Thursday night’s Top of The Pops. Artists that would have graced any decade include:  The Jesus and the Mary Chain with their honeyed feedback, the Mancunian obtuseness of The Fall,  the ethereal beauty of the Cocteau Twins or the madcap pop of Kate Bush.

Kate Bush – Cloudbusting 1985.  A beautiful song about controversial psychoanalyst and rainmaker Willhelm Reich.

The Smiths in 1984 Image: gradontripp.com

Home-grown bands such as The Smiths, The The, The Cure and The Sisters of Mercy were very popular for different reasons. The Smiths and The The documented the general alienation and anti-institutionalism of the times, Morrissey lead singer of Mancunian band The Smiths was anti-monarchy, staunchly vegetarian, (their 1985 album was called Meat Is Murder) and a cult of fandom grew up around him. Their obsessive fans would dress similarly, read poetry and carry flowers like their idol Morrissey, another example of young people looking for something to belong to.

 

The criminally ignored King of The Slums with scratchy violin vignette  ‘Fanciable Headcase’ 1989.

Banshee Siouxsie Sioux - the archetypal goth. Image:glimmeringprize.blogspot.com

The Sisters of Mercy and The Cure were decidedly bleak in outlook, their early music characterised by Spartan guitars, minimal electronic drums, sombre synth swirls and hopelessness. Their fans were called Goths and wore black clothes with heavy white make up, and were stereotyped as skinny and pasty-faced.  Robert Smith of The Cure sung “I live with desertion and eight million people” on  ‘One Hundred Years’ from the 1982 album ‘Pornography’. He was talking about the anonymity of living in a city, and  many young people identified with the goth philosophy of existentialism and pre-millennial  pessimism.

Perhaps the most evocative song of the time was  folk troubadours The Waterboys  ‘Old England’, released in 1985.  It is an utterly beautiful lament to a country changing irrevocably, in it lead singer Mike Scott sings “Man looks up on a yellow sky and the rain turns to rust in his eye, rumours of his health are lies…Old England is dying” .  Here he is singing about the perpetuation of the myth of a 20^th century British Empire and how the government talked of a new affluent era while 3 million languished on the dole.

The Waterboys – Old England.

When he talks of ‘rust’ he is perhaps alluding to the decline of traditional values and British way of life. Later in the song he sings “Criminals are televised, politicians fraternize, journalists are undignified, everyone is civilised and children stare with heroin eyes” here he talks of Britain’s growing inner city heroin epidemic and when ironically he sings ‘everyone is civilised’ he refers to the stiff upper lip mentality of the British; that when things are clearly not how they should be, British reserve and social conventions are far more important.   

The Young Ones – 80s comedic interlude for no reason other than it’s very funny.

————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Love Can’t Turn Around – Daryl Pandy sporting the iconic 80s fashion hairdo the mullet. 1986.

 

Farley Jackmaster Funk Image: fader.com

 When Margaret Thatcher was elected for a third historic term in 1987, ‘rave music’ had already unwittingly appeared in the nation’s consciousness when it charted in 1986 with Farley Jackmaster Funk’s ‘Love Can’t Turn Around’ as noted in Simon Reynolds excellent book Energy Flash. Farley, a DJ from Chicago  – the now spiritual home of house – was responsible for the huge slabs of funky backward sounding brass instrument. 

 He used newly-coined electronic ‘house’ beats; while Daryl Pandy bellowed the vocals to the Isaac Hayes original over the top. It can be said to be one of the first rave tracks with its heavy bassline stabs, and repetitive refrain. Its roots came out of the 70s and early 80s gay disco scene that originated in America.  The sounds of early rave music were forged by a collective of Detroit musicians who were inspired and influenced by European artists Kraftwerk and British artists such as Depeche Mode and Cabaret Voltaire. Detroit’s Belleville Trio of Juan Atkins, Derrick May and Kevin Saunderson made many of rave’s future classics such as May’s Strings of Life and Saunderson’s The Groove that won’t stop.

Derrick May captures the spirit of the time with celebratory techno track ‘R Theme’ from 1989.

At the start house was regarded as a passing phase in England, and when played in clubs in early 87  it had the opposite of the desired effect and cleared the dance floor. It wasn’t until  Paul Oakenfold, now legendary D.J, spent time in Ibiza Town dancing to balearic music and taking Ecstasy with friends, that he decided to revive a discarded idea to bring balearic style nights to London.

Early British house track  made by AR Kane and Colourbox as MARRS – Pump Up The Volume 1987.

Membership card to elitist rave club Shoom. Image:hyperreal.org

In his book Energy Flash, Simon Reynolds (1998) says Oakenfolds club Future opened in Charing Cross playing house and blissed out indie favourites. Ecstasy – while not part of everyday British drug culture – was available and was a big part of the hedonistic feel of the nights at the club. There was a growing clamour and soon everybody wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Another club called Shoom (a term that described the heightened sensations of coming up on ecstasy) opened in south London. Shoom was the nebulous blueprint for rave culture, with its now iconic smiley faces on its flyers and brazen chemical calls to ‘Get Right On One Matey!’

The club’s door policy was strict and elitist – to keep out riff-raff and newcomers among the ever lengthening queues.  Those who did get in were considered to be part of  – lollipops, fruit, space dust and glo-sticks were handed out to the sweaty dancing crowd.

Rave was a reporter's dream for the sensationalist tabloid media. Image: europopmusic.eu

 Acid house stories were starting to appear in the tabloids and broadsheets and initial coverage was positive. The Sun labelled the scene as ‘cool and groovy’. They printed a rundown of the slang and even had a special offer on smiley t-shirts. Less than a fortnight later The Sun changed its mind and ran the headline ‘Evils of Ecstasy’. Readers were warned in typically sensationalist style that MDMA could cause brain damage, heart attacks, and horrendous hallucinations. Focusing on ecstasy’s supposedly aphrodisiac properties – The Sun then hilariously surmised that you might end up in bed with ugly people – and that there was a pretty good chance you would be sexually assaulted while under the influence.

The loved up parties could not be kept underground for long, and in early 1988 acid house clubs opened in other parts of London, Manchester and Leeds.

 By late 88 D Mob’s chart friendly ‘We Call It Acieed’ was in the charts and house parties were becoming an essential and vibrant part of mainstream culture.

Charles B and Adonis acid house classic Lack of Love 1988.

Simon Reynolds (1998) Energy Flash. London: Picador.

        Back  to Top     Part 4   Home