Let’s talk about rave music. It’s been on my mind a lot lately. Actually, it’s permeated every facet of my life for the last three days, rattling my head as it rattles the glass panes in the windows of my rented room, perched a hundred feet up and back from the non-stop party beach that is Hat Rin. Only now that it is obvious that the moon is no longer full are people showing any signs of letting up; during the days and nights following the main bacchanal, when it was hard to detect that the moon was waning, the band played on.
Not the band, rather, but the DJ. Now, DJ’s are supposed to be a creative lot, mixing beats and cleverly juxtaposing songs to keep the party going, for three days in this case. Great. It would seem like a worthy challenge, then, to reach deep into the music collection to come up with a variety of songs that kept the music fresh and interesting; dazzle us with the depth and breadth of your musical knowledge and mixing skill, oh clever and creative DJ!
Or, despite having access via the internet to every piece of music since the dawn of man translated into a set of ones and zeroes, you could just rehash the same eleven popular techno songs ad nauseum for three days, like some sort of nonstop top forty radio station that’s lost over half its collection. And also like a top forty station, every time a new DJ comes on, he establishes himself as hip and dazzles the party with his musical taste by...playing those same eleven songs. And keep in mind that this is a kilometer long stretch of beach lined with bars and clubs, all holding beach parties, each with a bumping sound system, each with a DJ, each armed with the same eleven songs. So, if your eyes are getting stung by blowing foam from the bubble generator, or the smell of fuel from the giant flaming jumprope or the whirling fire dancers is getting to you, or this particular set of drunken Aussies is getting too unruly, you can move down the beach to the next club, the next beach party, where an all new creative and inventive DJ will be playing...the same eleven songs. Which may mean that you leave one party, walk a hundred paces down the beach, and into another party where the DJ is just firing up the song that drove you away from the last party.
Here’s what I don’t get. These eleven songs are popular right now because they are new, right? Which means that they have supplanted, by nature of their newness, the last eleven popular techno songs. The supplanted songs, though older, were as popular in their time as these new songs are now. They had the same ability to make people want to dance. So they aren’t cutting edge, but they are still effective. Why not take those eleven older songs and put them in the mix, bringing the playlist to twenty-two? Or, delve back even further into techno popularity, all the way back to 2010, and access even more once cutting edge songs, really expand the repertoire. Though that may expose you to criticism, brand you as a DJ dinosaur, I, being blind to what was popular last month on the techno scene, would be most appreciative of a little variety. I may be drunk, but you played the same tune four songs ago.
If I sound confident putting the number at eleven, it’s because I counted. Not at first, but after a day and a half of fairly continuous drinking and dancing, I started paying attention. Then I became a little obsessed, making a list with notes that read things like ‘polka number,’ ‘Italian job,’ ‘BEPeas #2,’ and ‘Matrix ripoff.’ I had to assign names I could easily recognize, as I don’t normally keep up on my techno, being more of a fan of people playing instruments. That said, if techno has a place, it is most certainly on a Thai beach keeping people up and moving for three days. Techno certainly does make one want to move. The driving beat, the constantly modulating, elevated tempo that builds to irresistibly danceable crescendoes, the groupthink feeling it generates amongst a seething mass of chemically altered brains and bodies, the chest rattling, organ shifting bass lines, well, it’ll make you tap your toes for sure. No, I’m not normally one for techno, or nonstop dancing, for that matter, but pump me full of Thai whiskey and Red Bull, the real stuff, slap a bunch of day glo paint on me, throw a huge howlable moon above a semicircle crescent of tropical beach sand, and drop me in the middle of a living breathing mass of sweaty, undulating humanity wriggling around to a nonstop driving beat, and, hell, that’s what I came here to see and do, so let’s dance. If only, if only, could someone maybe play a different tune?
