Itchy York article

Stark raving bonkers

Balls to this nu-rave malarkey - Itchy still digs old rave, with a big fluorescent spade

We’re about to risk being seen as more unfashionable than a pair of leatherette lederhosen, but Itchy would like to sound off about ‘nu-rave’. It’s not that we object to all nu-rave tunes; while they haven’t inspired the full-on dancefloor-bound strutting epileptic fits of superior tracks like the Jive Bunny Megamix, we’ve at least twitched to them with a modicum of enthusiasm. It’s just the ‘rave’ connection we don’t understand.

Rave in its original form was about big bouncy beats and synths, getting so far off your tits that your nipples ended up on different continents, and dancing like you were putting on an invisible high-speed puppet show. Sure, fashions and paraphernalia were associated with the movement. But the whistles and glo-sticks weren’t the main point. It was less about the smiley face sweaters and more about perspiring madly to happy hardcore, sporting an inane grin.

Nu-rave seems to be exactly the opposite: style over content. It's all about neon, wearing the looks and getting the looks. In contrast, old-skool ravers could hardly see their own frantically-gesticulating hands in front of their faces, never mind bothering about fellow clubbers’ clobber. Itchy attended a nu-rave party recently and spotted a punter pairing a fluorescent visor with slippers. This over-studied posturing set the theme for the night: no soles, and no soul either. If you weren’t sufficiently cutting edge you may as well have slit your wrists. Dancing styles incorporated flailing arms carefully designed to look out of control, accessorised with fake blank looks, completely out of time to the music. Which was fast, guitar- and electro-bleep-heavy, painfully fashionable and often painful to hear. Such serious self-consciousness is the reverse of what Itchy thought was so great about the free expression of rave the first time round.

Nu-rave has been branded more heavily than a Parkinson’s sufferer doing their ironing. This is music marketing stooping to a new (Zane) low. Yes, some of the artists are decent enough, but that isn’t why a lot of people are listening to them. Likewise, dressing up is great fun, but not when you’re doing it just to gain brownie points from fashion scouts. Nu-rave scenesters can shove themselves where their glo-sticks don’t shine. Like the posed spiky-elbow shapes they throw with an over-trained arm, they can get bent. When Itchy goes raving, we want to genuinely enjoy letting ourselves go. We’re not bothered about fishing for compliments and ticking trend boxes. We want to be making big fish, little fish and cardboard boxes instead, with wild abandon. That’s why Itchy chooses old rave over nu-rave every time.

And why should old rave need updating when its early nineties heyday still holds so many unsolved mysteries? For instance, The Shamen’s Love Sex Intelligence was ‘comin’ on like a seventh sense’. What the hell was their sixth sense? It certainly wasn’t taste. Was the rumour that batches of kids’ temporary tattoos had been impregnated with LSD a hit (of acid) or a myth? Why were only outdoor raves termed ‘illegal’, when the majority of indoor events held enough drugs to sink a battleship and then make it float higher than ever before?

Itchy isn’t condoning drug use, nor saying that music should not be experimental and progressive. But raving, or social activity in general, should be about making yourself happy, not conforming to industry ideas of what you are told to do, wear and ‘enjoy’. For that reason, nu-rave doesn’t work for us. Anyone who has a problem with that can take their specially-purchased designer whistle, and get blown.

Don't believe us? Then check out York clubbing old-skool rave style at The Gallery.

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