Go, Groove and the posters for Pfoho 54: They all perpetuate the stereotype of glowsticks and lasers, water bottles and rainbows, pills and glitter, flared pants with enough strap material to make a second pair. If you’re one of the lucky many from Cali, Florida or D.C., you might have seen it up close and personal. Either way, chances are, you’ve noticed that Puritan Boston—Hey, Let’s-Shut-Down-at-2 a.m. Boston—is somewhat lacking in the “rave” department. (After all, everyone knows that E and Guinness just don’t mix.)
While typical warehouse raves of the anthem-party scale are few and far between around here, and usually far out (think: must have car), Boston has a secret: Beantown is home to one of the best drum ’n’ bass scenes in America. Great, you say—what the hell does that mean? Here’s how to be rolling downtown like a pro junglist soldier in no time.
Drum ’n’ Bass: Not Your Parents’ Rave
“That was so much fun!” said Sarah R. Lehrer-Graiwer ’05 of Los Angeles, after her first night out at the weekly drum ’n’ bass rave The Rinse at Club Venu. The Rinse is arguably the best event, in terms of regular international star power, in any musical genre in Boston. (Note for clarification purposes down the road: A weekly event, staged by a production company, is often a separate entity from the club itself—the producers of the rave rent out the club one night every week to do their own thing. So beware of confusing the identity of a weekly with the identity of the club itself.) “I’d been to a California-style rave back home, but never one like this before,” said Lehrer-Graiwer. Her statement shows the contrast between the more stereotypical experience of Cali/Go trance raves and the prototype of a weekly drum ’n’ bass rave.
Drum ’n’ bass, a rapidly expanding musical genre, along with its close associate, “jungle,” is a form of aggressive electronic music, grouped with trance and house (think: Lansdowne) but with closer ties to hip-hop both culturally and compositionally. Drum ’n’ bass raves are populated by hooded figures in comfortable thug-wear and sneakers, sporting “don’t fuck with me” attitudes and the tribal tattoos and piercings to hammer them home. They often break it down with some break-dancing, windmilling and flaring in a circle of testosterone, and live emcees can spit rhymes at tweaked-out speeds while the DJ waxes his tables. The music is driven—no surprises here—by a cultivated, throbbing bass line, coupled with some snazzy syncopated drum cadences. Some tracks have chic vocals, others sample hip-hop rhymes, but most just make music by layering the beats in search of the ultimate “bass drops.” You’ll know one just happened when everyone spontaneously combusts. Not really, but that’s the idea: Everyone starts flailing around, throwing their heads and bodies back and forth at dangerous velocities in time with the hyperactive beat.
This obviously isn’t the composed stiletto and cigar crowd of Pravda 116 or the cheesy eurotrash crowd of Roxy, both of which are around the corner. While those house and trance clubs are about dressing to impress (and, one must admit, even ravers have their claim to fashion-consciousness), the ideal drum ’n’ bass weekly is all about keeping it real and relaxed. Unpretentious except in regards to their unpretentiousness, drum ’n’ bass raves have also been noted as the gathering place of the scum of the techno world.
Rinse it Out, Raise it Up
Given Boston’s tendency for being lame when it comes to rave regulations, it’s hard to comprehend how the Cradle of the Revolution became home to some of the top drum ’n’ bass weeklies in America. My personal theory: International DJs, coming mostly from Britain and more than likely on a promotional tour for their new mix CD, fly over to hit up New York—and cities like Boston and Philly, being only a relative stone’s throw away, present logistically viable locations to finish out a mini-tour before heading back home. (This would explain why places with crowds much more receptive to the rave culture and with more rave-friendly ordinances, but farther away, such as Miami and California, get repeatedly shafted.) The crowds these DJs draw here, mostly from local colleges like BU and Tufts and from the local underground scene, could never compare with most other electronically advantaged cities. So for a measly $10, one can see superstar DJs entertaining at what is, in essence, an intimate college party. Fans won’t get this close to these guys, for this cheap, most any other time.
Aside from the party-like atmosphere, there are plenty of other reasons an average Harvardian would be jumping up and down to some electronic blips with a bunch of bass addicts and hardcore hip-hop heads. Here, summarized for convenience:
1) It’s college. Try something different!
2) Like your mom, it’s quick, convenient AND cheap. A $10, four-hour party one T stop away from Park Street can’t be beat for an all-around bomb-ass experience.
3) Drum ’n’ bass is the new trance: It’s everywhere, especially on websites and in commercials, and it’s only a matter of days before drum ’n’ bass albums regularly break onto the charts. Once Madonna grabs your producers, it’s all over. Get in on the ground floor.
4) Contrary to popular perception, this is not a drugfest. The main party favor at The Rinse is alcohol, and they’re strict on IDs. Besides, pookiehead ravers on E generally aren’t wanted in the drum ’n’ bass world—hallucinogens and amphetamines only, please!
5) For those under 21, raves tend to be much more friendly to the underage than Lansdowne and its associates. For the logic behind this, see the last sentence of reason number four.
6) Clubs aren’t open every night of the week, but there is always a rave going on somewhere.
7) There is another world out there—and just a few hours of mingling with real (if super-sketchy) people totally removed from the reach of VE/RI/TAS is good for anyone’s sanity.
Don’t Forget To
Experiment With Experimental!
If house and trance are, respectively, the Gap (ubiquitous and dependable) and Abercrombie and Fitch (stylish and sexy) of the dance world, drum ’n’ bass is the Army surplus store: militant, underground, unpolished and tough. But beyond these three major genres is the world of experimental, fringe and hybrid techno, which are collectively Urban Outfitters: There’s bound to be something interesting, and the best stuff usually winds up in the basement. There are many weeklies that devote themselves, sometimes in rotation, to IDM (intelligent dance music), garage, hardcore, ghetto-tech, unusual breaks, acid house, noise and other experimental forms. These “experimental” or “variety” weeklies often showcase local talent and upstart DJs. Institution6, a new weekly that features a collective of local amateur acts in rotation, houses itself at Phoenix Landing and, like many weeklies, claims as its founding purpose the desire to foster a community and promote great (techno) music. Founder and DJ Eric Gray says, “I believe that in addition to education, family, religion, economy and government, music is the sixth social institution.” Gray has built up a “collective” showcasing local talent in all electronic genres. “We hope to bring in a lot of unheard local artists as guests,” Gray says. “I find that the most talented DJs in Boston never have the chance to play in a public setting.” While the crowds at these weeklies are often small and unpredictable, the shows are usually worth more than the dirt-cheap cover and can be a less intimidating, if more berserk, way to enter the world of techno.
There’s No Place Like Home
Here’s the final kicker: Most of the greatest places to party are right here in Cambridge. Phoenix Landing, the Cellar and the Hideaway Pub all offer more electronica delicacies than this page can list. Still, don’t be afraid to let a weekly rave—drum ’n’ bass or something else altogether—inspire a trek into Boston proper.
