Rave Culture through the Economist?

The Music Issue.

(I am going to be Interviewed for a Book on “Rave” Culture. Been thinking about what I want to say.)

My first experience or taste or touch of what was to become the biggest underground every to explode world wide was through the Economist. Yes, The Economist.

It must have been in 1989. When it was still called, “Acid House.”

I was 15.

My dad for some reason, showed me an article about this new phenomenon happening in Britain, and how these people were going into warehouses listening to records with no names by people you don’t know the face of. Which seems crazy at the time, when image was everything, and MTV was the center of the Industry (It probably still is).

And in order to buy those records you heard at parties, you had to knock the beats out at the counter, and hope the person manning the shop will know. I think that’s a made up story by the writer. Seems cool, I like the image, but really, all you would need to do is actually is put some records on and listen to it to find which one it was. Wouldn’t you?

Anyway, what was my dad doing circling articles about a drug fueled, late night, underground cultural phenomenon at that age in that big red pen of his to read? I have no idea what he was thinking. I remember him saying I would be interested in this coz it was “Cool, or whatever that word you like to use.”

It was cool. I was hooked on both the idea of these crazy people driving around all night to go dancing and that this magazine with no pictures about all sort of weird things going around on in the world could actually tell me things I was interested in.

In retrospect, it was probably his way of making me interested in world events and start reading the Economist. Then again, he told me I should read the paper every day when I was 14 and got me a subscription of News Week when I was 16. I can’t bear to read that magazine anymore, to me, it’s for kids, and grown ups should read proper stuff and not pulp like that.

Everything that stemmed from that day is his entire fault. I am sure of it.

He would tell me that what I did in my life is my choice and had nothing to do with him. Which is also correct, but I am the kinda girl that likes to “Sei” which means, “pass the buck to someone.”

Mainly I am writing this coz no wonder I can get so socio-politico about music. I mean, even before I heard the amplifier go “Beep, Beep, Beep” I already knew what context it was placed in.

Thanks Dad. I guess the Music Issue, which is growing to far huger proportions that I ever imagined it, should be dedicated to him. The rest is entirely my fault, but how fun much did I have?