Techno Rave Quotes

Bringing a child into the world without its consent seems unethical. Leaving the womb just seems insane. The womb is nirvana. It’s tripping in an eternal orb outside the space-time continuum. It’s a warm, wet rave at the center of the earth, but you’re the only raver. There’s no weird New Age guide. There’s no shitty techno. There’s only you and the infinite.

Jungle's sound-world constitutes a sort of abstract social realism; when I listen to techstep, the beats sound like collapsing (new) buildings and the bass feels like the social fabric shredding. Jungle's treacherous rhythms offer its audience an education in anxiety (and anxiety, according to Freud, is essential defence mechanism, without which you'd be vulnerable trauma).

I’d grown up with disco in the 1970s, when I just knew it as exciting pop music on AM radio. In the 1980s it died off, but still inspired everyone from New Order to Duran Duran to Kraftwerk. And then in the late 1980s the ghost of disco came back with a fury, giving birth to house music, techno, rave culture, and even a lot of hip-hop. Disco was the crucible in which most modern music had been born, and within the disco pantheon no one had ever reigned higher or more supreme than Donna Summer.

The coming together of technology, drugs, and music as exemplified in the rave scene seemed to offer a glimpse into a brave new world—a man-machine mash-up that some of the woollier theorists predicted was the future of human evolution. Made-up words such as “sampladelic” and “techno-pagan” summed up the zeitgeist.

Two years earlier there hadn’t been a rave scene in the States. And now, seemingly overnight, the world had changed. Every decentsize city in North America now had DJ record stores and rave-clothing stores. Musicians were trading in their guitars for synths and making techno records that were becoming globe-spanning anthems. It was 1992 and the rave scene was blossoming like a shiny, DIY flower.