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The Rave: Spiritual Healing in Modern Western Subcultures

Author(s): Scott R. Hutson

Source:

Anthropological Quarterly,

Vol. 73, No. 1 (Jan., 2000), pp. 35-49

Published by: George Washington University Institute for Ethnographic Research

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THE RAVE: SPIRITUALHEALING IN MODERN

WESTERN SUBCULTURES

SCOTT R. HUTSON

University of California, Berkeley

At raves, young men and women dance to electronic musicfrom dusk to dawn. Previous schol-

arship treats the rave as a hypertext of pleasure and disappearance. However, such a

postmodern view does not attend to the poignant and meaningful spiritual experiences re-

ported by those who go to raves. This article examines claims about altered states of con-

sciousness at raves and the therapeutic results- "spiritual healing"-such states are said to

bring. While physiological processes (exhaustive dancing, auditory driving) may contribute to

altered states of consciousness, symbolic processes create appropriateframeworksfor spiritual

healing. Such therapeuticism can be more fully understood in the context of other modern

western spiritual subcultures.Placing raves within the context of these other subculturesfore-

grounds questions for further research. [raves, shamanism,youth culture, American spiritual-

ity, symbolic analysis]

Everhad an experience makesyou sit up andre-evaluate

that

all

and

thoughts incidents yourlife?'

yourideas,

Introduction

The question above was voiced by a young man

who had just returned from a rave: a dance party,

usually all night long, featuring loud "techno"2mu-

sic, also called electronica, in which participants

often reach ecstatic states, occasionally with the help

of drugs.3Initially, in the late 1980s, when they first

appeared in Britain, raves were undergroundevents,

taking place in makeshift and occasionally secretive

venues such as warehouses and outdoor fields. By

the mid-1990s analysts could comment that "the

scale is huge and ever increasing" (McRobbie 1994:

168). Fully licensed and often held in nightclubs,

raves now penetratedto the center of British youth

culture. Combined attendance at dance events in

Great Britain in 1993 reached 50 million, which was

substantiallymore than at "sporting events, cinemas,

and all the 'live' arts combined" (Thornton 1995:

15). Commercially, the 1993 British rave market

brought in approximately $2.7 billion (Thornton

1995: 15). In Germany nearly two million young-

sters and post-adolescents united in the so-called

"rave nation" of the mid-1990s (Richardand Kruger

1998). Following this initial north European flores-

cence, rave hot spots emerged around the world at

Rimini (Italy), Ko Phangan (Thailand), the Balearic

Islands (Spain), Goa (India), and coastal

Mozambique.Though they have never been as popu-

lar in the United States as in Great Britain, raves

have been a fixture in San Francisco, Los Angeles,

and New York since the early 1990s and some of

techno music's strongest roots are in Detroit and

Chicago.

Raves today are remarkablydiversified. In fact,

in places like London where raves have their deepest

roots, the rave "scene" has fragmented into many

successor sub-scenes, usually centered on divergent

varieties of techno music, such as Big Beat or Drum

$'n Bass. Raves in the traditionalsense-semi-legal

and located in factories and outdoors-are rare. Nev-

ertheless, rave's various offshoots all feature what I

believe are the critical elements of rave: dance mu-

sic, long duration, and ecstatic experience. As in

London, most all-night dance parties in U.S. cities

with a long traditionof raves have blended into the

regular nightclub scene and are no longer called

raves. However, in smaller cities and especially in

the Midwest (Champion 1998) and the Southeast,

raves in the traditionalsense are alive and well.4

Demographically, most people who attend

raves-often called "ravers"-are between the ages

of 15 and 25, thus making rave a "youth" subcul-

ture (see Epstein 1998). The socioeconomic and eth-

nic backgroundsof ravers are not nearly so predict-

able as their ages. For example, early raves in Great

Britain attracted people of various backgrounds,

mostly from the working classes (Reynolds 1998a:

64). This socially mixed traditioncontinues today in

most urban venues. At the other extreme, in the

midwestern United States, for example, most ravers

are white and middle class. Though slightly more

males than females attend raves, the organizers,pro-

ducers, and musicians behind the rave scene are

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ANTHROPOLOGICAL

QUARTERLY

to as "flame wars." According to Mark Dery (1994:

1),

the

electronic

communication

accelerates escalation hos-

sometimespseu-

tilities when tempersflare:disembodied,

predominantlymale (McRobbie 1994: 168, Tomlin-

son 1998: 198, Reynolds 1998a: 274; Richard and

Kruger 1998: 169).

Much of the academic discourse on raves fo-

cuses on the rave as a hedonistic, temporaryescape

from reality. Writers who support this position argue

from a "neoconservative" (Foster 1985: 2),

postmodern perspective that emphasizes the promi-

nence of nostalgia and meaninglessness in modem

amusements. Though I find this view of the rave

both plausible and informative, I argue that it is in-

complete because it ignores the poignant and mean-

ingful spiritual experiences that ravers say they get

from raves. In this article I attend to discourses in

which ravers claim that raves are therapeutic.Based

on these testimonials, the rave can be conceptualized

as a form of healing comparable both to shamanic,

ecstatic healing documented in ethnographies of

small-scale non-western societies, and to spiritual

experiences in modem western subcultures.Our'un-

derstandingof the rave, previously approachedfrom

a cultural studies or communicationsstudies perspec-

tive, might therefore benefit from a perspective at-

tuned to anthropological discussions of shamanism

and spirituality.

Notes on Method

The primary source materials for my interpretations

come from testimonials posted on the internet from

1993 to 1997, e-mails contributed to listservs, par-

ticipant-observationat raves and dance clubs in San

Francisco and the southeasternUnited States, and in-

terviews with informants. The use of web-based

sources of informationexposes my study to the con-

siderations of how Internet or "cyber"-ethnography

differs from traditional, real-time ethnography

(Fischer 1999). The methodological issue most rele-

vant to my study is the effect of computer-mediated

communication on the construction of identity. In

other words, the major issue to be addressed is

whether people behave differently when correspond-

ing on e-mail or posting messages to interactive web

sites as opposed to when engaged in traditionalface-

to-face communication.

A number of authors suggest that advanced in-

formation technology can modify behavior in

profound ways (Hakken 1999: 44). The anonymity

communicationremoves

of much computer-mediated

inhibitions that govern normal social encounters. For

example, social conventions such as courtesy and

politeness may disappear,leading to what is referred

combatants to feel thattheycan hurlin-

tend

donymous

sultswithimpunity.

Gotcher and Kanervo (1997) note that people exhibit

anger on-line more often than in person. In many

cases the emotions embedded in on-line communica-

tion can be difficult to interpretdue to the absence

of paralinguisticvocal cues such as stress, pitch, in-

tensity, and volume (Dery 1994: 2). Cues that iden-

tify race, gender, and sex may also be absent in on-

line communication, allowing for the utopian possi-

bility of interaction with others not on the poten-

tially discriminatory bases of racialized, gendered

real-life identities, but on what people choose to

write (p. 3). Beyond concealing real-life identity, the

anonymity of computer-mediated communication

also enables people to enact fantasies and create any

number of fictional identities (Turkle 1995: 12).

These considerations suggest that communica-

tion on line is affected by largely different norms

than those governing face to face communication.

However, David Hakken (1999) argues that identity

formation on-line, though complex, is not qualita-

tively different from identity formation off-line.

More precisely, Hakken avoids distinguishing

sharply between on-line and off-line and instead

places computer-mediated communications like e-

mail and Multiple User Domains (MUDs) along a

continuum of cyborgic, machine-enhancedcommuni-

cations. Hakken makes the point that correspondence

through email might be quantitativelymore cyborgic

than correspondence through a telephone, but both

forms of communication are machine-enhancedand

not qualitatively different. Most importantly,identity

formation in cyberspace,just like identity formation

elsewhere, is semiotic ratherthan empirical, depends

recursively on socializations produced through face-

to-face experience, occurs within social hierarchies

similar to those found in real-life, and derives from

comparison with others (Hakken 1999: 89-91). Dib-

bell (1994) has noted that even in those cyberspaces

where role-playing and fictional identities are most

common, such as MUDs, people soon stop treating

the Internet as a vast playpen for their disembodied

fantasies and begin acting with the maturity charac-

teristic of real life.

Hakken's and Dibbell's skepticism toward the

com-

revolutionarydifferences of computer-mediated

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THE RAVE

munication leads me to think that my web infor-

mants do not act very different from my face-to-face

informants. There is further justification for taking

this position. None of the texts that inform my study

is angry or hostile, as in flame wars. Authors often

used common names that are likely to be actual

names, which suggests that they were consciously

accountable for what they wrote. There were no in-

dications that authors of statements were role-

playing, as in MUDs, and there were no patent in-

centives for dissimulation. Perhaps the form of writ-

ing most analogous to the sources I consulted is the

travelogue, or, more appropriately,the "rave-log,"

in which ravers share their experiences and delights

to kindred spirits. Such a form of writing, of course,

does not escape all forms of distortion. Testifying

about the power of raves on a listserv most often

read by other ravers may lead to partisan hype and

sort of community-reinforced

exaggeration-a

boosterism. On the other hand, there is no reason to

believe that such exaggeration would not occur in

face to face communication.

By subjecting "odd" behavior in our own soci-

to the same type of anthropologicalanalysis that

ety

is often reserved for religions of Asia, Africa, and

elsewhere, this article joins a growing number of

studies that give serious treatmentto experiences of

healing and empowerment that anthropologistsonce

deemed "inauthentic."After confronting the "intru-

sion" of Western mass culture into "authentic" and

"exotic" traditions of shamanism in coastal Peru,

Donald Joralemon (1990: 112) stumbled upon an-

thropology's stubborn disposition to "celebrate the

exotic and disparagethe familiar." As Joralemonex-

plains, anthropologists hesitate to apply to what is

culturallynearest to them the same respectful yet de-

tached perspective that they habitually reserve for

the culturally distant. For example, when metaphors

of healing are embedded in oral traditions of geo-

graphicallylocalized cultures, they are seen as legiti-

mate, yet when they come from diffuse, literate and

economically empowered Westerners they are seen

as ridiculous "psychobabble" (Joralemon 1990). In

this article, I join Joralemon and others (Brown

1997; Danforth 1989) in challenging this assump-

tion. Regardless of the authenticityof shamanic idi-

oms used by Westerners,statements about healing at

raves deserve serious study. As Joralemon points

out, anthropologists who study modern "spiritual

healing," rather than pretending superiority and ig-

noring it altogether, might stand to gain unforeseen

insight on behavioral processes.

Approaching the rave with respectful detach-

ment, however, does not preclude a critical analysis.

When Michael Brown announced his intent to re-

search New Age channels, his colleagues discour-

aged him from what they thought would be a "con-

taminating" research project, fearing that he would

"go native" (1997: x). The solution, however, does

not seem to be to avoid studying New Age channels,

as Brown's colleagues implied, but to engage them

in the hope of fashioning a robust cultural critique

(Marcus and Fisher 1986). Brown's ethnography as

well as other ethnographies,like that of Loring Dan-

forth (1989), in which Greek firewalkers are com-

pared to New Age firewalkers in the United States,

show that "unusual" western practices can be suc-

cessfully and critically engaged by anthropologists.

The anthropology of raves is not yet thorough

enough to formulatea "robust" culturalcritique. To-

ward this end, however, I include brief comparisons

between spiritualhealing at raves with similar exper-

iences among fundamentalist Christians, Grateful

Dead fanatics, New Age channels, and other groups.

Such lateral moves point to areas of research that

can be pursued more deeply in the future.

Academic and "Native" Perspectives on the Rave:

Meaning, Spirituality,Healing

The postmodern approach views the rave as a cul-

ture of abandonment,disengagement, and disappear-

ance. To Fredric Jameson (1984: 60,64),

postmodernism is typified by the disappearance of

the subject. Lack of subjectivity at raves is said to

be reflected in the style of dance (Rushkoff 1994:

121; McKay 1996: 110; Russell 1993:128-129), the

relative anonymity of the DJ (disc jockey), the na-

ture of the music (Tagg 1994; Reynolds 1998a: 254,

Melechi 1993: 34), the ego-reducing effects of Ec-

stasy (the most prominent drug at raves, known

"3,

chemically

methylene-dioxy-

metamphetamine"[MDMA] [Saunders 1995]1), and

the occurrence of raves in out-of-the-way places at

times when the rest of the population sleeps

(Melechi 1993: 33-34; Rietveld 1993). Ravers fill

the void of subjectivity with a collage of fragments,

the archetypal form of postmodernist expression

(Jameson 1984: 64). Fragmentation is seen in the

DJ's sampling of various past and present styles of

music (Connor 1997: 207, Reynolds 1998a: 41-45).

Such bricolage of older styles exemplifies Jameson's

idea that, with the decline of the high modernistide-

ology of style, the producers of culture have no-

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ANTHROPOLOGICAL

QUARTERLY

church; the DJs operated from the altar. In an intro-

duction to rave culture Brian Behlendorf refers to

the DJ as "high priest."7 Saunders' London infor-

mants refer to the drug Ecstasy as the holy sacra-

ment (Saunders 1995). One raver, commenting on a

rave in Orlando, said that the DJ did not just make

him boogey, he made him "see God."'

Noticing the similarities between raves and

Christian spirituality,Matthew Fox and Chris Brain,

sponsored by the Episcopal church in Sheffield, UK,

have fused traditionalservices with raves in an effort

to increase youth church membership (Reynolds

1998a: 242). Brain's services, known colloquially as

"Planetary Mass," feature ambient house music,

nightclub-stylelighting, and video screens with com-

puter generated graphics.9 In the United States a

similar hybrid ceremony, also called PlanetaryMass,

takes place in the Grace Cathedral,San Francisco (p.

316).

Robin Green and other ravers disapprove of or-

ganized religion's attemptsto co-opt the rave experi-

ence. According to Green,

ravesshouldinfluencepeoplemetaphysically

outsideof the

religioussphere.In actualeffect, this is the creationof a

where to turn but the past (1984: 65). Informed by

this perspective, some argue that the first raves in

London were simulacra of past all-night disco ex-

travaganzas at tourist nightclubs in the Balearic Is-

lands of the Mediterranean(Reynolds 1998a: 58-59;

Melechi 1993: 30; Russell 1993: 119). Finally, the

rave experience is said to be hyperreal in the sense

that a multiplicity of surfaces replaces singularity of

depth (Jameson 1984: 62). Due to the sensory over-

load of throbbing music, exotic lighting, exhaustive

dance, and sensation-stimulatingdrugs, the rave be-

comes a mega-surface that gratifies a relentless and

intense desire for pleasure.

Reynolds (1998b: 90), an authoritative rave

journalist, summarizes the postmodern interpretation

elegantly: rave culture is "geared towards fascina-

tion ratherthan meaning, sensation ratherthan sensi-

bility; creating an appetite for impossible states of

hypersimulation." I find the postmodern approach

deficient precisely because it fails to acknowledge

meaning. Baudrillardbelieves that in the postmodern

world of simulacra, meaning is exterminated(1988:

10): the joy of Disneyland, raves, and similar

amusements lies not in their intellectual stimulation,

but in their ability to satisfy, on a purely sensory

level, our voracious appetite for surfaces. Once the

surfaces are rendered meaningless, interpretation

stops. As a result, such interpretationsare not very

deep (Bruner 1994) and certainly not "thick"

(Geertz 1973). The studies cited above do not con-

sider the complex ways in which symbols and sur-

faces connect, intersect, and/or conflict with the

praxis of the real human beings who construct and

consume them. Their lives are certainly not mean-

ingless, yet those who write about the rave rarely

solicit the voices and experiences of people who ac-

tually go to raves.

As an exemplar of the idea that the rave is in-

deed a very meaningful experience to many of those

who attend, I quote a raver named Megan:

Theraveis my church. is a ritual perform.holdit

sacred myperpetuality. . we in theravearea con-

gregation-it is up to us to help each other,to help people

seen my soul and its place in

eternity.6

. .

religion

without

foundation unified

theological

expression.10

Another raver claimed

[On Sundaymorningafter the rave] I see people headed

off to churchdressedin theirSundaybest and I just have

to smile becauseI knowthatlast nighton the dancefloorI

felt closer to God than theirchurchwith all its doctrines

will

and doublestandards ever bringthem."

heaven . . . After

reach

everyrave,I walkouthaving

Megan's statementexemplifies the religiousity of the

rave. The analogy between rave and religion

manifests itself at various sites. In Nashville a club

known as the Church hosted raves by the name of

"Friday Night Mass." Thornton (1995: 90) reports

on a rave in Great Britain that was held inside a

Rave is thus seen by some as a more "direct" form

of spiritualitythan organized religion.

The ravers' own explanation of why they inter-

pret their experiences in spiritual terms centers

around the concept of "technoshamanism." The

term was coined by FraserClark, who helped organ-

ize two prominent London dance clubs, UFO and

Megatripolis, and edited Evolution, an underground

magazine focusing on the culture of house music in

London (Rushkoff 1994: 121). Technoshamanism

refers to the DJ's role as "harmonicnavigator," "in

charge of the group mood/mind." The DJ "senses

when it's time to lift the mood, take it down, etc.,

just as the shaman did in the good ol' tribal days."•2

In other words, through a tapestry of mind-bending

music, the DJ is said to take the dancers on an over-

night journey, with one finger on the pulse of the

adventureand the other on the

turntablesl3

(Rushkoff

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