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Energy Flash: A Journey Through Rave Music and Dance Culture
Energy Flash is the story of rave culture. The first critical history of the music as well as the drugs, Energy Flash charts the journey from Chicago house and Detroit techno to the blissed-out daze of acid house and 'Madchester', through the mass hysteria of early nineties hardcore rave and the birth of jungle, right up to today's glorious confusion of styles and scenes; trance, trip hop, gabba, big beat, speed garage, and more.From the crusty-raver free-party scene to pirate radio, from the politics of Ecstasy culture to the darkside of recreational drug use, Energy Flash is the definitive chronicle of rave music and dance culture.
Incorporating interviews with the prime movers in electronic dance music Derrick May, Paul Oakenfold, Mr C, 808 State, A Guy Called Gerlad, Primal Scream, Orbital, The Prodigy, Spiral Tribe, Goldie, 4 Hero, Aphex Twin, Tricky, Jeff Mills, Carl Craig, Richie Hawtin, DJ Shadow, Alec Empire, to name just a few - Energy Flash celebrates rave culture's quest for the perfect beat and the ultimate rush.
Incorporating interviews with the prime movers in electronic dance music Derrick May, Paul Oakenfold, Mr C, 808 State, A Guy Called Gerlad, Primal Scream, Orbital, The Prodigy, Spiral Tribe, Goldie, 4 Hero, Aphex Twin, Tricky, Jeff Mills, Carl Craig, Richie Hawtin, DJ Shadow, Alec Empire, to name just a few - Energy Flash celebrates rave culture's quest for the perfect beat and the ultimate rush.
493 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
303 people are currently reading
4847 people want to read
About the author
Simon Reynolds
51 books488 followersSimon Reynolds is one of the most respected music journalists working today, and his writing is both influential and polarizing. He draws on an impressive range of knowledge, and writes with a fluid, engaging style. His books Rip it Up and Start Again and Generation Ecstasy are well-regarded works about their respective genres, and RETROMANIA may be his most broadly appealing book yet. It makes an argument about art, nostalgia, and technology that has implications for all readerswhether diehard music fans or not. Its an important and provocative look at the present and future of culture and innovation."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 116 reviews
November 28, 2007
I finally woke up in 2004, after a decade of living this book. Clubland, and Party Monster, are two other books that capture the essence of this so-called era.
It was very informative and quite revealing of how rave culture came about. It gives good insight into how the music was created, how the parties got started, where the drugs came from and what they did, and how and why it all ended.
I don't know what to say. If you never took part in any of it, and you want to understand what went on, then this is the book for you. If you were there, but can't remember why, then this is the book for you.
But if you lived it, breathed it, and loved it, then this is just a text book, and can't truely explain what it felt like to take part in the greatest love and freedom fest, ever. The 60's was about being who you were. The 90's and early early part of this century was about being whatever you wanted to be. The thing about this book is that while it gives you the data, it doesn't give you the feelings. The experience was different for everybody, even those at the same parties. I guess x, lsd, ghb, and meth do that to you. There is an ebb and a flow to the lifestyle, and it lives on today. You can still find raves and amazing djs in every major city if you know where to look, but they won't be run by Clear Channel. That's one idea that this book got exactly right... it went from being an expression to being a show. Those who truely cared still live the life, but don't shove it in peoples faces any more as they now want to keep it to themselves.
It was very informative and quite revealing of how rave culture came about. It gives good insight into how the music was created, how the parties got started, where the drugs came from and what they did, and how and why it all ended.
I don't know what to say. If you never took part in any of it, and you want to understand what went on, then this is the book for you. If you were there, but can't remember why, then this is the book for you.
But if you lived it, breathed it, and loved it, then this is just a text book, and can't truely explain what it felt like to take part in the greatest love and freedom fest, ever. The 60's was about being who you were. The 90's and early early part of this century was about being whatever you wanted to be. The thing about this book is that while it gives you the data, it doesn't give you the feelings. The experience was different for everybody, even those at the same parties. I guess x, lsd, ghb, and meth do that to you. There is an ebb and a flow to the lifestyle, and it lives on today. You can still find raves and amazing djs in every major city if you know where to look, but they won't be run by Clear Channel. That's one idea that this book got exactly right... it went from being an expression to being a show. Those who truely cared still live the life, but don't shove it in peoples faces any more as they now want to keep it to themselves.
January 25, 2025
Who would have thought that Big Apple Records, a small underground dance music shop with a banana skin logo, would be the epicentre of a global movement. Well, specifically Croydon in South London, home to darker garage, 2-Step, and dub.
In an article about the early history of dubstep, Georgina Cook writes that “The cocktail of role models and underground sounds found at Big Apple, coupled with access to software like Music2000 and FruityLoops, was potent to South London’s young regulars.”
Apple regulars who eventually became dubstep pioneers included Plastician (then ‘Plasticman’), Skream & Benga, N-Type and Walsh, Chef, Distance, Cyrus, Mala & Coki (aka Digital Mystikz), Loefah & Sgt.Pokes, and Kromestar.
This was a research rabbit hole where I listened to a selection of the above while (trying to) plumb the depths of this particular iteration of EDM. Some of my favourites are Skrillex and ‘Gutted’ by Burial, the former high energy and the latter quietly elegiac, highlighting the diversity of the genre.
What is fascinating is the role of the so-called dubplate in the sound and culture of dubstep. This was an acetate disc on which the freshest tunes were pressed to be passed, like a golden chalice, to a producer’s most trusted DJs. For a futuristic sound, it was a pretty low-tech approach.
Reynolds writes with authority and insight, ensuring his text is accessible to novices, while still managing to convey his enthusiasm, knowledge, and jargon. About dubstep, in particular, he states:
Dubstep’s emptiness definitely evokes urban desolation rather than pastoral isolation: the music’s timbral palette of cement-grey tones and the production’s cold, dead echoes conjure the vibe of built-up areas that are normally bustling but are now eerily deserted, creepily quiet … dubstep in general, could equally be about any city anywhere. The tension and dread, the sensations of grandeur and possibility battling with desolation and entrapment, would be familiar to any metropolis dweller across the globe. Which must surely explain dubstep’s success in spreading across the world…
That, of course, included South Africa, where EDM culture was massive in the late 2000s to 2010s (I am sure all South Africans of a certain age have a couple of rave experiences…)
Artists included Niskerone and Audiophile 021, plus major events like Science Frikshun in Johannesburg and the Cape Town Electronic Music Festival. In Rainbow Nation style, dubstep was blended with kwaito, house, and gqom to create a truly hybrid style that showcased the innovation and universality of EDM.
Even Sun Ra is cited as an influence, which just goes to show what a musical melting pot dubstep ended up being. And it also shows how important music is as a language: to both celebrate different cultures and honour our common humanity.
In an article about the early history of dubstep, Georgina Cook writes that “The cocktail of role models and underground sounds found at Big Apple, coupled with access to software like Music2000 and FruityLoops, was potent to South London’s young regulars.”
Apple regulars who eventually became dubstep pioneers included Plastician (then ‘Plasticman’), Skream & Benga, N-Type and Walsh, Chef, Distance, Cyrus, Mala & Coki (aka Digital Mystikz), Loefah & Sgt.Pokes, and Kromestar.
This was a research rabbit hole where I listened to a selection of the above while (trying to) plumb the depths of this particular iteration of EDM. Some of my favourites are Skrillex and ‘Gutted’ by Burial, the former high energy and the latter quietly elegiac, highlighting the diversity of the genre.
What is fascinating is the role of the so-called dubplate in the sound and culture of dubstep. This was an acetate disc on which the freshest tunes were pressed to be passed, like a golden chalice, to a producer’s most trusted DJs. For a futuristic sound, it was a pretty low-tech approach.
Reynolds writes with authority and insight, ensuring his text is accessible to novices, while still managing to convey his enthusiasm, knowledge, and jargon. About dubstep, in particular, he states:
Dubstep’s emptiness definitely evokes urban desolation rather than pastoral isolation: the music’s timbral palette of cement-grey tones and the production’s cold, dead echoes conjure the vibe of built-up areas that are normally bustling but are now eerily deserted, creepily quiet … dubstep in general, could equally be about any city anywhere. The tension and dread, the sensations of grandeur and possibility battling with desolation and entrapment, would be familiar to any metropolis dweller across the globe. Which must surely explain dubstep’s success in spreading across the world…
That, of course, included South Africa, where EDM culture was massive in the late 2000s to 2010s (I am sure all South Africans of a certain age have a couple of rave experiences…)
Artists included Niskerone and Audiophile 021, plus major events like Science Frikshun in Johannesburg and the Cape Town Electronic Music Festival. In Rainbow Nation style, dubstep was blended with kwaito, house, and gqom to create a truly hybrid style that showcased the innovation and universality of EDM.
Even Sun Ra is cited as an influence, which just goes to show what a musical melting pot dubstep ended up being. And it also shows how important music is as a language: to both celebrate different cultures and honour our common humanity.
June 22, 2012
This book is a very detailed, autobiographical history of electronic dance music. Reynolds bathes the book in fountains of extraneous adjectives. (I can easily visualize him doing lines of blow off a thesaurus page between writing sessions). Nevertheless, Generation Ecstasy is a great read for true EDM nerds like myself. I would love to see an updated edition including the Great Dubstep Revolution of 2005-2010. That is, if Reynolds' dopamine receptors can handle it.
February 13, 2014
Simon Reynolds is a British music journalist (born in 1963) who has covered several different genres of popular music, but experiences in clubs, raves and with the drug Ecstasy have made a powerful impact on his life. Energy Flash is a voluminous survey of electronic dance music (EDM) and the culture (style, drugs) surrounding it since its start in the 1980s. The first edition of the book (titled Generation Ecstasy in the United States) appeared in 1998, but a second edition describes later developments up to 2007.
While Reynolds focuses mainly on the British scene, there is ample coverage of US developments. Besides starting his history with the Detroit techno and Chicago house movements without which the UK would have never had acid house and everything after, Reynolds also dedicates an entire chapter to US raves, highlighting the very different vibe there compared to Europe. The German scene is also covered, but in considerably less detail than the UK or US.
Through each evolution in EDM, Reynolds mentions iconic tracks of the era. Take, for instance, this bit on “Voodoo Ray” by A Guy Called Gerald:
When the first edition of this book was published in the 1990s, readers must have felt somewhat frustrated by these vague verbal descriptions, which don't really impart what the track really sounds like. However, we now live in the age of YouTube, when readers can easily hear nearly every track mentioned in Energy Flash. Much of the book's value lies in walking you through classic tracks that you can go on to download yourself.
What seriously undermines Energy Flash, however, is a lack of fact-checking and an inability to distinguish opinion from fact. As Reynolds makes clear in the introduction, his preference is a genre of aural assault and chemical saturation, where the names of the producers of tracks or even DJs is irrelevant, the dancers in a club living in the moment. For him, this is the truly revolutionary music of the era. He sees notions of “progressive house”, “intellectual dance music” and “home listening” as throwbacks to established music genres.
Of course it’s fine to have an opinion, and any reader is likely to find some strands of EDM more worthwhile than others. However, Reynold can't help making snide comments like “No one listens to The Future Sound of London any more” (my paraphrase), but a glance at FSOL's LastFM artist page reveals that over half a million people still do, with younger audiences continually discovering them and leaving ecstatic comments on the wall. Even the progressive rock that Reynolds feels progressive dance music follows into historical oblivion has shown considerably staying power if one simply looks at its internet presence.
There are also readily spottable factual errors in e.g. dates: the “Battle of Beaulieu” between trad and modern jazz fans happened at the 1960 festival, not the 1961 one; the 1992 hardcore scene wasn't inspired by Playstation games because that console was not released until two years later. We get misspellings like “Liz Frazer” for the chanteuse of Cocteau Twins (whose last name is in fact Fraser) and outright misrememberings like “Trevor Seaman” for “Dave Seaman”. Mistakes like these lead one to doubt the overall reliability of Reynolds’ history.
While Reynolds focuses mainly on the British scene, there is ample coverage of US developments. Besides starting his history with the Detroit techno and Chicago house movements without which the UK would have never had acid house and everything after, Reynolds also dedicates an entire chapter to US raves, highlighting the very different vibe there compared to Europe. The German scene is also covered, but in considerably less detail than the UK or US.
Through each evolution in EDM, Reynolds mentions iconic tracks of the era. Take, for instance, this bit on “Voodoo Ray” by A Guy Called Gerald:
With its undulant groove and dense percussive foliage, its glassy, gem-faceted bass-pulse and tropical bird synth-chatter, ‘Voodoo Ray’ looks ahead to the polyrhythmic luxuriance of Gerald’s mid-nineties forays into jungle, as do the tremulous whimpers and giggles of the blissed-out female vocal.
When the first edition of this book was published in the 1990s, readers must have felt somewhat frustrated by these vague verbal descriptions, which don't really impart what the track really sounds like. However, we now live in the age of YouTube, when readers can easily hear nearly every track mentioned in Energy Flash. Much of the book's value lies in walking you through classic tracks that you can go on to download yourself.
What seriously undermines Energy Flash, however, is a lack of fact-checking and an inability to distinguish opinion from fact. As Reynolds makes clear in the introduction, his preference is a genre of aural assault and chemical saturation, where the names of the producers of tracks or even DJs is irrelevant, the dancers in a club living in the moment. For him, this is the truly revolutionary music of the era. He sees notions of “progressive house”, “intellectual dance music” and “home listening” as throwbacks to established music genres.
Of course it’s fine to have an opinion, and any reader is likely to find some strands of EDM more worthwhile than others. However, Reynold can't help making snide comments like “No one listens to The Future Sound of London any more” (my paraphrase), but a glance at FSOL's LastFM artist page reveals that over half a million people still do, with younger audiences continually discovering them and leaving ecstatic comments on the wall. Even the progressive rock that Reynolds feels progressive dance music follows into historical oblivion has shown considerably staying power if one simply looks at its internet presence.
There are also readily spottable factual errors in e.g. dates: the “Battle of Beaulieu” between trad and modern jazz fans happened at the 1960 festival, not the 1961 one; the 1992 hardcore scene wasn't inspired by Playstation games because that console was not released until two years later. We get misspellings like “Liz Frazer” for the chanteuse of Cocteau Twins (whose last name is in fact Fraser) and outright misrememberings like “Trevor Seaman” for “Dave Seaman”. Mistakes like these lead one to doubt the overall reliability of Reynolds’ history.
August 5, 2018
The good parts are very good, but the bad parts are also quite bad. The journalistic parts are better than the criticism parts, except perhaps for the conclusion, where the overall argument for hardcore and against freestyle is clearly summarized. I specially like Reynolds when he gets cranky. His slamming of artcore drum and bass is merciless but also insightful!
Want to read
March 25, 20212017 “best of IDM” article: https://pitchfork.com/features/lists-...
Also came here to note that this book was published as both “Energy Flash” and in the US as “Generation Ecstasy”.
Also came here to note that this book was published as both “Energy Flash” and in the US as “Generation Ecstasy”.
November 21, 2023
Gnosis is the esoteric knowledge of spiritual truth that various pre-Christian and early Christian cults believed could only be apprehended directly by the initiate, a truth that cannot be mediated, or explained in words. In pirate discourse, 'the score' or 'the coup' is code for the secret knowledge to which only the hardcore, 'the headstrong people', are privy. And this is drug knowledge, the physically felt intensities induced by Ecstasy, amphetamine and the rest of the pharmacopoeia. The MC's role, as encryptor, as master of the sacra-mental ceremonies, is to ceaselessly reiterate that secret without ever translating it. The MC is a potent inclusion/exclusion device; if you're not on the bus, if you're not down with the programme, you'll never know what that idiot is raving about.
from Chapter 9 "This Sound is for the Underground: Pirate Radio"
Not being "on the bus" and certainly "not down with the programme," I stopped reading the ravings of this idiot around page 475 of this 700 page opus. I didn't finish this tome, so maybe my criticisms aren't valid since maybe, unlikely, he could have pulled everything together in a final, substantive conclusion.
The problem is Reynolds never organizes his material and wallows in his personal taste. My goal in picking up this book was to better understand 90's electronic and techno dance music. Reynolds breaks things down into categories, but there's too much bleeding from one to another that, without a sincere attempt to delineate rather than pontificate, the understanding remains murky. Reynolds does not really clarify anything. He is adept at hinting, at odd anecdotes and metaphors which provide a glimpse into this thought process. But he never nails anything down. In the end, it's he likes this, he doesn't like this, he was at this rave, he was at that rave.
I was disappointed with this book. I hoped for so much more substance.
"All this bollocks about the E culture, it's just people projecting their ideas on to something that's always been there: mindless hedonism."
from Chapter 2 "Living a Dream: Acid House and UK Rave, 1988-89"
from Chapter 9 "This Sound is for the Underground: Pirate Radio"
Not being "on the bus" and certainly "not down with the programme," I stopped reading the ravings of this idiot around page 475 of this 700 page opus. I didn't finish this tome, so maybe my criticisms aren't valid since maybe, unlikely, he could have pulled everything together in a final, substantive conclusion.
The problem is Reynolds never organizes his material and wallows in his personal taste. My goal in picking up this book was to better understand 90's electronic and techno dance music. Reynolds breaks things down into categories, but there's too much bleeding from one to another that, without a sincere attempt to delineate rather than pontificate, the understanding remains murky. Reynolds does not really clarify anything. He is adept at hinting, at odd anecdotes and metaphors which provide a glimpse into this thought process. But he never nails anything down. In the end, it's he likes this, he doesn't like this, he was at this rave, he was at that rave.
I was disappointed with this book. I hoped for so much more substance.
"All this bollocks about the E culture, it's just people projecting their ideas on to something that's always been there: mindless hedonism."
from Chapter 2 "Living a Dream: Acid House and UK Rave, 1988-89"
September 24, 2017
It's closer to 2.5 stars but that's more because of what I thought the book would cover versus what it actually covered. As the author noted at the end, there aren't that many books on this subject, so the information was mostly new.
I appreciated him mentioning appropriation/gentrification a lot, although I wish that he wouldn't use autistic as an adjective so frequently, even if 1998 had different standards then today. I don't know how I feel about the book's handling of ecstasy- it's not like this book will be read by impressionable kids, but it's still a drug with health side effects and it's not just an 'Everyone is together uwu' thing.
I wish the book was written later, so that way electronica's impact on the mainstream could have been written about more. The book jacket mentions Madonna, David Bowie, and U2 all doing rave inspired music, but seeing chapters about how they decided to do rave music, and how they were received in the community, would have been interesting. Talking about more later decade artists like Moloko or Sneaker Pimps would be interesting too, or waiting until electroclash became a thing.
I appreciated him mentioning appropriation/gentrification a lot, although I wish that he wouldn't use autistic as an adjective so frequently, even if 1998 had different standards then today. I don't know how I feel about the book's handling of ecstasy- it's not like this book will be read by impressionable kids, but it's still a drug with health side effects and it's not just an 'Everyone is together uwu' thing.
I wish the book was written later, so that way electronica's impact on the mainstream could have been written about more. The book jacket mentions Madonna, David Bowie, and U2 all doing rave inspired music, but seeing chapters about how they decided to do rave music, and how they were received in the community, would have been interesting. Talking about more later decade artists like Moloko or Sneaker Pimps would be interesting too, or waiting until electroclash became a thing.
May 13, 2021
This was good but not great. Comparatively, I enjoyed the book "Last Night a DJ Saved My Life" more, as I found it focused more on historical details and less on the personal opinions of the author. You can tell this was written by a music critic and not a DJ, and at times the metaphor filled descriptions of the sound of certain songs became tedious and pretentious. My perspective might be biased because I read "Last Night" first (and have also read other similar books), so a lot of the information was not new to me. Someone new to this subject may find this book more informative. I was hoping because it was UK focused it would have more about jungle/drum and bass, but this only really featured in a few chapters. On the upside it is quite thorough, with a lot of information and some very interesting anecdotes!
December 21, 2018
A comprehensive a-z review of techno music and sub-styles. An interesting insight into all aspects of rave culture of the 90's and accompanying events. I was a little bit overwhelmed with details sometimes and skipped a few pages but all in all - a great book and truly a journey.
February 6, 2019
Overall a well written book although there's some glaring mistakes on the names of some of the record names mentioned.
One unforgivable mistake is when he talks about Altern-8's track "Activ-8" where he says the producers daughter is the one who says the line, "Nice one, top one, get sorted".
Sorry, what?
Anyone with a modicum of knowledge of rave music knows damn well it's "Top one, nice one, get sorted".
Totally unforgivable, and if he wasn't sure then the author could have simply gone to Youtube and played the damn track. He could have even typed the sentence in to Google and it would have returned a bunch of articles that would have corrected his sorry ass.
That drops point for me, Reynolds isn't as knowledgeable as he makes out.
Then there's the desperate attempt to find and name a load of sub-genres that I'm just not sure about. I'm not saying I know every genre and sub-genre when it comes to "dance music" but some of the ones he mentions I've just never heard of, never heard anyone talk about, never read about in Mixmag etc.
Referring to "hardcore" as "'ardkore" is just utter bollocks, nobody did that, give over you big melt.
And finally, there's a great big section on American rave culture which frankly sounds dubious. Apart from inventing the music courtesy of Chicago and Detroit, America knows nothing about the rave scene, they're decades behind. Some of the stories just sound like they've been told to him by a bullshitting teen and the author has lapped it up like a thirsty cat.
Overall, it's an interesting book, had to skip a few pages here and there because he was talking bollocks but it's a good read if you're an old skool raver.
There's a decent track list at the back of the book too which will help to pick up and tracks from Youtube that you might not already have in your collection.
One unforgivable mistake is when he talks about Altern-8's track "Activ-8" where he says the producers daughter is the one who says the line, "Nice one, top one, get sorted".
Sorry, what?
Anyone with a modicum of knowledge of rave music knows damn well it's "Top one, nice one, get sorted".
Totally unforgivable, and if he wasn't sure then the author could have simply gone to Youtube and played the damn track. He could have even typed the sentence in to Google and it would have returned a bunch of articles that would have corrected his sorry ass.
That drops point for me, Reynolds isn't as knowledgeable as he makes out.
Then there's the desperate attempt to find and name a load of sub-genres that I'm just not sure about. I'm not saying I know every genre and sub-genre when it comes to "dance music" but some of the ones he mentions I've just never heard of, never heard anyone talk about, never read about in Mixmag etc.
Referring to "hardcore" as "'ardkore" is just utter bollocks, nobody did that, give over you big melt.
And finally, there's a great big section on American rave culture which frankly sounds dubious. Apart from inventing the music courtesy of Chicago and Detroit, America knows nothing about the rave scene, they're decades behind. Some of the stories just sound like they've been told to him by a bullshitting teen and the author has lapped it up like a thirsty cat.
Overall, it's an interesting book, had to skip a few pages here and there because he was talking bollocks but it's a good read if you're an old skool raver.
There's a decent track list at the back of the book too which will help to pick up and tracks from Youtube that you might not already have in your collection.
January 24, 2021
This is my new bible. Hell, it's even got a Talmud-style question-and-answer chapter in the back. Truly the alpha and omega of dance music literature.
I have this bad habit where I feel I have to know comprehensively about a thing before I start to do it. I have tried and failed several times to do meditation because I feel a compulsion to read Buddhist scriptures and Zen manuals so I can do things "the right way." I started reading this about a year ago in the hopes that I would finally really educate myself about and understand the "canon" of dance music. I can't remember why I wanted to back then, but it's probably the same reason I have now, which is that I want to become an active participant in this culture, hopefully as a DJ myself. Ironically, despite all the clubs and festivals and basically the entire non-recording music industry shutting down because of COVID, I think I've gotten closer to that dream because I've had time to fuck around with my little DDJ-400 and figure out how I want to do this in a way that isn't "right," but is satisfactory for my own artistic needs. What's refreshing about Energy Flash is the way it insists that really, there is no right way, at least as far as this music goes. The best dance music has never been made on the best equipment or with the most resources, but by the guys with the cheapest equipment who figured out how to make a sound no one had heard before. There is no "right way." So do what you want, forever.
I have this bad habit where I feel I have to know comprehensively about a thing before I start to do it. I have tried and failed several times to do meditation because I feel a compulsion to read Buddhist scriptures and Zen manuals so I can do things "the right way." I started reading this about a year ago in the hopes that I would finally really educate myself about and understand the "canon" of dance music. I can't remember why I wanted to back then, but it's probably the same reason I have now, which is that I want to become an active participant in this culture, hopefully as a DJ myself. Ironically, despite all the clubs and festivals and basically the entire non-recording music industry shutting down because of COVID, I think I've gotten closer to that dream because I've had time to fuck around with my little DDJ-400 and figure out how I want to do this in a way that isn't "right," but is satisfactory for my own artistic needs. What's refreshing about Energy Flash is the way it insists that really, there is no right way, at least as far as this music goes. The best dance music has never been made on the best equipment or with the most resources, but by the guys with the cheapest equipment who figured out how to make a sound no one had heard before. There is no "right way." So do what you want, forever.
December 13, 2016
Simon Reynolds could write a book about polka and I'd still get completely engrossed by it, so I feel lucky that his specialties happen to overlap with music I find myself obsessing over anyway, first (for me) with Rip It Up and Start Again / Post-Punk and now with Generation Ecstasy / Techno. As a personal history of a genre that practically co-evolved with ecstasy, some of the writing can come off a bit... well, ecstatic, but I'm inclined to find it endearing rather than grating. That's partly because it all feels of a piece with his larger project of moving music criticism away from the confining perspective of Music As Literature and towards one of Music As Pure Experience, and partly because I came to the book already converted. Still, whether or not you share his love for that particular era of techno, a great case study in how subcultures form and mutate and cyclically storm into / recede from the popular consciousness.
May 5, 2012
Although a bit dated now, an excellent history of the origins of the rave scene in both the UK and America. This book stands out from others in the field due to 1) Reynolds skilled writing style, 2) his knowledge of the many variants of electronic music and ability to describe them for non-listeners, and 3) his theorizing about the meaning of the culture. He manages to demonstrate both that he's a fan and participant, but also able to turn a critical eye on the whole thing. If only this were required reading for everyone today whose knowledge of electronic dance music begins with Deadmau5, David Guetta and Swedish House Mafia!!
September 11, 2016
Even when you don't like the music his descriptions are brilliant.
In fact...one of the issues with reading pop journalism in the Spotify age is that often music sounds better in words than in life. This is so true of the rave that Reynolds describes. But good on 'im for trying to describe the "feel" of the sound rather than always the words/songwriter biography.
I'm with him that songwriting credits need to change, Jagger Richards are credited with the Stones classics, but the song wouldn't be the song if not for each contribution: the drums, the studio sound. NOT just the lyrics/riff
In fact...one of the issues with reading pop journalism in the Spotify age is that often music sounds better in words than in life. This is so true of the rave that Reynolds describes. But good on 'im for trying to describe the "feel" of the sound rather than always the words/songwriter biography.
I'm with him that songwriting credits need to change, Jagger Richards are credited with the Stones classics, but the song wouldn't be the song if not for each contribution: the drums, the studio sound. NOT just the lyrics/riff
March 8, 2021
Ottimo libro se si è interessati alla storia e ad eventi importanti della musica dance e rave, soprattutto per quanto riguarda i frangenti drum and bass e techno. Sfortunatamente non va molto in dettaglio quanto avrei preferito su altri generi come house, trance e hardcore novantiane, ma è comprensibile da parte di un critico come Reynolds un focus più mirato appunto alla musica techno, più affine alle orecchie dei fan del rock a cui spesso si rivolge.
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October 25, 2011It was a great read when it was first written. But with much of Simon Reynolds work, it has a very one sided British take on a very much American culture. Even though the scene was born in the U.K., it seems as this book was written to remind us all that that is where it came from, even though I still believe this book has it's good moments.
May 18, 2023
Between lords of chaos, japanoise, and this, I think I maybe just don’t enjoy this kind of ethnography of a music scene.
My advice is instead of reading the book, skip to the ‘discography’ appendix in the back and add all the records to your discogs wantlist.
My advice is instead of reading the book, skip to the ‘discography’ appendix in the back and add all the records to your discogs wantlist.
October 8, 2021
While I found Reynolds' rave-aesthetics annoying and inconsistent at times, this is a landmark work of musical documentary that's a joy to read
April 26, 2024
Al fin. Como todo un año me ha llevado completar la lectura de este tocho, degustando a pequeños sorbos sus casi 700 páginas (me lo ha prestado el ilustre Mauri (https://www.mauridj.com/dj/) que a estas alturas debía estarse ya arrepintiendo…).
Reconocido oficialmente como “La Enciclopedia” de la música electrónica de baile, “Energy Flash” es realmente un imperdible para freaks de la materia. Organizado en largos capítulos de sugerentes títulos, recorre los años que van desde el final de los 80´s hasta 2012 (es una edición ampliada respecto de la original del 98), echando un ojo al pasado cuando la ocasión lo requiere: Detroit, Disco, referentes del rock…
59 «La música house de Chicago nació de una doble exclusión, pues: no era solo negra, sino que era gay y negra. Su rechazo, su disidencia cultural, tomó la forma de aceptar una música que la cultura dominante consideraba muerta y enterrada»
Desde un punto de vista muy personal e implicado, Simon muestra su entusiasmo por los géneros y escenas que le apasionan cuidando de no desatender los que no le interesan tanto, con un encomiable afán de exhaustividad.
77 «Estábamos en 1989 y los Estados Unidos negros habían producido cuatro géneros de música de baile electrónica distintos y claramente configurados: el techno de Detroit, el sonido deep house/ garage de Chicago y Nueva York; el acid house y los minimal jack tracks, y el hip house basado en el breakbeat y el sample»
Como se puede intuir por el título, en el libro no sólo se habla de música; de hecho, el eje que lo vertebra es la relación entre las drogas –en especial el éxtasis y sus derivados- con la música de baile electrónica.
496 «Se ha celebrado el éxtasis como la «droga del flujo», por la forma como disuelve las rigideces corporales y psicológicas y permite a la persona que baila moverse con mayor soltura y «encastrarse» en el groove”.
Tiene un estilo muy dinámico, un poco gamberro, destroyer, acelerado; salvando las distancias me ha recordado a Lester Bangs cuando describe con metáforas descacharrantes los géneros musicales
«se oía un riff pedregoso de uñas sobre pizarra que sonaba como un borrador de cerebros que deja limpia la tabla de la conciencia (…) grandilocuentes ráfagas de una impía disonancia que sonaba como el Carmina Burana cantado por un coro de cyborgs adoradores de Satán
Una actitud algo punki que no va para nada en detrimento de la seriedad de su estudio. Su mantra es que la creatividad y la innovación siempre vienen del lado salvaje. Cuando un género o idea se intelectualiza, pierde su esencia rebelde y disruptiva (1)
“la experiencia me ha enseñado que cuando toda la gente bienpensante está de acuerdo en que algo es del todo intolerable, en que no tiene ningún mérito en absoluto, entonces es precisamente cuando tienes que prestarle atención, porque suele ser un indicio de que pasa algo interesante»
Aunque creo que en cuanto a gustos musicales no coincidimos -a él parecen gustarle justamente las cosas que yo detesto (chirridos, voces de pitufo, breaks, mucho jaleo, mal sonido…)-, me congratula que su posición sea siempre desde el underground… y del más extremo.
510 «A mí la idea y el ideal del raving -comunión colectiva , desmadre en común- me parecen cruciales . Cuando las subculturas dance se alejan de la locura rave a tope y «regresan a los clubs» mí entusiasmo empieza a declinar»
El índice resulta muy ilustrativo. En el libro alterna los capítulos que dan cuenta de una era, movimiento, o género, con otros capítulos más teóricos, muy interesantes, como el de “Sampledelia”, “En nuestra angelidad”, etc. e incluye incluso la transcripción de una jugosa entrevista con el autor, en la que reitera sus filias y sus fobias estilísticas.
Una de las (tristes) consecuencias que saco de estas lecturas (3) es que épocas que en su momento parecían eras geológicas resultaron, en realidad, muy breves. El ejemplo paradigmático podría ser el punk… cuánto duro? ¿77 y 78, a más tardar? Inmediatamente, llegó el afterpunk. Con los subgéneros electrónicos ya no te digo nada. Además, las escenas y las fechas se solapan, los géneros cohabitan… No le habrá sido nada fácil trazar una cronología.
He recogido una amplia selección de citas (podrían haber sido muchas más) que copio al final de la reseña. Como ya había oído decir, “Energy Flash” es de lo mejorcito que se puede leer sobre la historia y evolución de la subcultura de la música electrónica, aunque entiendo que su interés queda restringido a los enfermos del tema (entre los que me cuento); en caso contrario, mejor abstenerse.
(1) Habría mucho que decir al respecto; hay otro libro muy bueno que abunda en este tema desde una perspectiva más general: https://libretadelecturas.home.blog/2... .
(3) además de constatar que el entusiasmo por todo esto requiere del espíritu hedonista propio de la juventud… ¿O no es así? Porque no son pocos los que siguen disfrutando del ritual electrónico en la madurez…
Reconocido oficialmente como “La Enciclopedia” de la música electrónica de baile, “Energy Flash” es realmente un imperdible para freaks de la materia. Organizado en largos capítulos de sugerentes títulos, recorre los años que van desde el final de los 80´s hasta 2012 (es una edición ampliada respecto de la original del 98), echando un ojo al pasado cuando la ocasión lo requiere: Detroit, Disco, referentes del rock…
59 «La música house de Chicago nació de una doble exclusión, pues: no era solo negra, sino que era gay y negra. Su rechazo, su disidencia cultural, tomó la forma de aceptar una música que la cultura dominante consideraba muerta y enterrada»
Desde un punto de vista muy personal e implicado, Simon muestra su entusiasmo por los géneros y escenas que le apasionan cuidando de no desatender los que no le interesan tanto, con un encomiable afán de exhaustividad.
77 «Estábamos en 1989 y los Estados Unidos negros habían producido cuatro géneros de música de baile electrónica distintos y claramente configurados: el techno de Detroit, el sonido deep house/ garage de Chicago y Nueva York; el acid house y los minimal jack tracks, y el hip house basado en el breakbeat y el sample»
Como se puede intuir por el título, en el libro no sólo se habla de música; de hecho, el eje que lo vertebra es la relación entre las drogas –en especial el éxtasis y sus derivados- con la música de baile electrónica.
496 «Se ha celebrado el éxtasis como la «droga del flujo», por la forma como disuelve las rigideces corporales y psicológicas y permite a la persona que baila moverse con mayor soltura y «encastrarse» en el groove”.
Tiene un estilo muy dinámico, un poco gamberro, destroyer, acelerado; salvando las distancias me ha recordado a Lester Bangs cuando describe con metáforas descacharrantes los géneros musicales
«se oía un riff pedregoso de uñas sobre pizarra que sonaba como un borrador de cerebros que deja limpia la tabla de la conciencia (…) grandilocuentes ráfagas de una impía disonancia que sonaba como el Carmina Burana cantado por un coro de cyborgs adoradores de Satán
Una actitud algo punki que no va para nada en detrimento de la seriedad de su estudio. Su mantra es que la creatividad y la innovación siempre vienen del lado salvaje. Cuando un género o idea se intelectualiza, pierde su esencia rebelde y disruptiva (1)
“la experiencia me ha enseñado que cuando toda la gente bienpensante está de acuerdo en que algo es del todo intolerable, en que no tiene ningún mérito en absoluto, entonces es precisamente cuando tienes que prestarle atención, porque suele ser un indicio de que pasa algo interesante»
Aunque creo que en cuanto a gustos musicales no coincidimos -a él parecen gustarle justamente las cosas que yo detesto (chirridos, voces de pitufo, breaks, mucho jaleo, mal sonido…)-, me congratula que su posición sea siempre desde el underground… y del más extremo.
510 «A mí la idea y el ideal del raving -comunión colectiva , desmadre en común- me parecen cruciales . Cuando las subculturas dance se alejan de la locura rave a tope y «regresan a los clubs» mí entusiasmo empieza a declinar»
El índice resulta muy ilustrativo. En el libro alterna los capítulos que dan cuenta de una era, movimiento, o género, con otros capítulos más teóricos, muy interesantes, como el de “Sampledelia”, “En nuestra angelidad”, etc. e incluye incluso la transcripción de una jugosa entrevista con el autor, en la que reitera sus filias y sus fobias estilísticas.
Una de las (tristes) consecuencias que saco de estas lecturas (3) es que épocas que en su momento parecían eras geológicas resultaron, en realidad, muy breves. El ejemplo paradigmático podría ser el punk… cuánto duro? ¿77 y 78, a más tardar? Inmediatamente, llegó el afterpunk. Con los subgéneros electrónicos ya no te digo nada. Además, las escenas y las fechas se solapan, los géneros cohabitan… No le habrá sido nada fácil trazar una cronología.
He recogido una amplia selección de citas (podrían haber sido muchas más) que copio al final de la reseña. Como ya había oído decir, “Energy Flash” es de lo mejorcito que se puede leer sobre la historia y evolución de la subcultura de la música electrónica, aunque entiendo que su interés queda restringido a los enfermos del tema (entre los que me cuento); en caso contrario, mejor abstenerse.
(1) Habría mucho que decir al respecto; hay otro libro muy bueno que abunda en este tema desde una perspectiva más general: https://libretadelecturas.home.blog/2... .
(3) además de constatar que el entusiasmo por todo esto requiere del espíritu hedonista propio de la juventud… ¿O no es así? Porque no son pocos los que siguen disfrutando del ritual electrónico en la madurez…
December 2, 2014
¿Es posible una verdadera “crítica musical”? De hecho, me permito llevar la pregunta un poco más allá: ¿es realmente necesaria la “crítica musical”? Es curioso que, siendo la música una de las artes populares más antiguas (mucho más que el cine y el cómic, por ejemplo), no exista una crítica musical institucionalizada: partiendo del hecho de que siempre hay cierto espacio para la percepción subjetiva, un crítico cinematográfico puede utilizar determinadas herramientas puramente formales para dejar al descubierto la mayor o menor calidad de la película criticada y, teniendo en cuenta que los movimientos fílmicos son más lentos que los musicales, el uso del contexto puede enriquecer enormemente un texto crítico. En la música, sin embargo, en toda crítica parece que lo subjetivo gana la partida a lo objetivo: utilizar herramientas es posible pero poco fructífero (ya que el crítico acabaría hablando un lenguaje musical que pocos lectores comprenderían), y los contextos van y viene a una velocidad tan vertiginosa que afirmar hoy que un estilo es actual significa que ya está pasado (con la falta de profundidad que eso suele comportar y, en consonancia, la imposibilidad por parte de la crítica de desarrollar unas herramientas con las que abordar el estilo en concreto).
Así que repito: ¿es posible y necesaria una “crítica musical”? Por muy absurda que resulte mi posición al practicar yo mismo este tipo de crítica, mi opinión es que no, que no es posible… pero que sí es necesaria. Imposible es mantener la ilusión de que, como crítico, tienes la potestad suficiente para decidir qué está bien y qué está mal. Imposible es intentar apabullar al lector de tus críticas por medio de tecnicismos musicales y pajillerismos diversos que enmascaren lo que en el fondo estás diciendo: que a ti te gusta o no te gusta un disco en concreto. Imposible es intentar establecerse -y anquilosarse- en una tecnocracia que se cree en la posesión de una verdad absoluta que lo único que hace es formar a nuevas generaciones para que perpetúen los viejos clichés desarrollados por los más viejos del lugar. Todo esto es imposible, pero aun así la crítica musical es algo necesario siempre y cuando (bajo mi punto de vista) se practique no como algo que te eleva sobre quien te lee, sino como un espacio que compartes con él: como esa área en la que tu espacio de experiencia converge con el suyo.
Me gusta pensar que Simon Reynolds estaría de acuerdo con todo lo que he dicho hasta el momento, y me gustaría pensarlo precisamente porque la lectura de “Energy Flash” (editado ahora en nuestro país por CONTRA), pese a no ser un libro de crítica sino de historia musical, ha acabado por afianzarme en mi propia opinión. El subtítulo del tomo es “Un viaje a través de la música rave y la cultura de baile“, y lo cierto es que, aunque Reynolds cumple (con holgura) sus promesas, lo hace más bien en sus propios términos. Desde la introducción del libro, el autor deja bien claro que va a escribir de algo que le apasiona: de un movimiento musical, el rave, que vivió múltiples mutaciones pero que siempre se mantuvo fiel a su naturaleza de monstruo en el que drogas y música electrónica no sólo iban de la mano, sino que se utilizaban para amplificarse el uno al otro ad infinitum.
La visión historicista de Reynolds es pluscuamperfecta: parte de la asimilación de la herencia del garage disco neoyorkino por parte de Detroit y Chicago para saltar a la re-interpretación y bastardización de los sonidos de las dos ciudades yankis por parte de la muchachada británica que, inmersa en su particular segundo verano del amor, en los años 1988 y 1989 añadió el toque balearic a lo ya mencionado para trenzar el ADN definitivo del sonido ‘ardcore. Más tarde, ese rave se iría convulsionando en otros formatos como el acid rave o el rave’n’roll hasta que, en 1990-92, se convirtió en un fenómeno masivo, en una bestia de mil cabezas de nombres como tribal, ambient, IDM, trance, phuture funk, jungle, gabba, happy hardcore, trip-hop, techstep, drum and bass, speed garage, big beat, UK garage, 2step… Cada una de las cabezas de esta bestia mitológica es descrita por Reynolds con una finura subyugante, con una habilidad para la cronología preclara, con una claridad de líneas dispuestas a ser aprehendidas y, sobre todo, con una emoción a flor de piel plenamente identificable por el lector a poco que haya sido fanático de la música electrónica.
Ahí está el factor diferencial que convierte a “Energy Flash” en algo único: en que Reynolds prefiere la emoción al intelecto. En que el autor se inmiscuye continuamente en lo explicado y no intenta crear en ningún momento una ilusión de academicismo: el ‘ardcore es algo que creció y se desarrolló a pie de calle, y por lo tanto intentar buscarle las tres patas esnobistas a este gato callejero no tendría ningún tipo de sentido. De hecho, el rollo rave fue algo tan absorbente que el mismo Reynolds deja al descubierto el poco material documental existente de la época: todo el mundo estaba demasiado ocupado en “vivir” el aquí y el ahora como para preocuparse de la posteridad. Ahí está la huella dactilar que tanto fascina a Simon Reynolds, ya que este fue este un movimiento musical y social que aniquilaba por completo algunos de los signos de identidad más básicos del sistema capitalista: el culto al yo quedaba aplastado por el “chase the dragon” dulcísimo del sentimiento comunal tan característico en el consumo de éxtasis, y la pleitesía desaforada al consumismo dentro de las reglas del mercado no funcionaban para nada entre un grupo de raveros que no consumían alcohol (para potenciar el efecto de las drogas) y que preferían operar en situaciones totalmente alegales (raves al aire libre, etc.).
¿Fue el rave el movimiento cultural más peligroso de los últimos años? Si lo fue, no tardó en ser asimilado por el sistema… Y este desencanto es algo que Reynolds tampoco elude: sin apartarse de su labor lúdica e historicista, el autor nunca esconde que, antes que crítico, está escribiendo (¡se está dejando la piel en un opus elefantiásico!) como fan: su abordaje de la evolución histórica del ‘ardcore es impecable, incluso en las diversas actualizaciones de la obra que llegan tan lejos como para cerrar “Energy Flash” con el reciente EDM, pero donde verdaderamente está la chicha de este tomo es en el revolucionario punto de vista que propone Reynolds. Ya no es sólo que él mismo se describa como ravero de pro, sino que, como tal, no duda ni un instante en huir como de la peste de todo lo que huela a “intelligent”, a intento de convertir la pulsión gozosamente primitiva del ‘ardcore en algo mental más cercano al high art. Hablando en plata: entiende a Aphex Twin, pero le deja mucho más frío que un tema anónimo que sepa tocarle la fibra sensible en medio de una rave después de haberse comido dos pastillas.
Podría decirse que esta es una eterna lucha de contrarios: la alta cultura contra la baja cultura. Pero, si nos lo paramos a pensar (y, de hecho, Reynolds nos obliga a reflexionar al respecto), tendremos que preguntarnos: ¿por qué hemos acabado conviniendo que la música electrónica inteligente, la que está pensada para ser disfrutada con la cabeza, es “mejor” y “de mayor calidad” que esa otra que ha sido creada con fines puramente hedonistas, para dejar que el cuerpo se pierda en sí mismo? Lo decía más arriba: aquí están (estamos) las nuevas generaciones de críticos repitiendo los clichés de las viejas firmas intocables. Por suerte, alguien como Reynolds se erige como defensor absoluto de los placeres más epidérmicos, de la aniquilación del ego para perdernos en el vacío cósmico del placer musical. Algo así como si un crítico cinematográfico se empeñara en demostrar que la comedia puede ser tanto o más elevada que el drama.
“Energy Flash” podría y debería convertirse en una herramienta para tirar abajo anticuadas concepciones de la crítica musical, las mismas que desaconsejarían a cualquiera hacer lo que hace Reynolds: cerrar su libro hablando de Ke$ha. ¿Por qué no? Al fin y al cabo, esa pulsión gozosamente primitiva de la que hablaba más arriba no es otra cosa que una de las actitudes más contestatarias de nuestros tiempos modernos. Y esto es algo que no digo yo, sino que es explicado en extensión por el propio autor: “El impulso apocalíptico de la cultura pop no tiene que ver con el Fin de los Tiempos en el sentido literal. Es una estratagema para finalizar, por así decir, el tiempo, al escapar de la variante medida y planificada del mismo: la tiranía del trabajo pagado por horas, el tiempo detenido del instituto o la universidad. Es un gasto a lo loco que echa por tierra la lógica economizada del tiempo invertido de manera prudente en el futuro. El ahora apocalíptico es un permiso para que el presente se libere de las cadenas que lo atan al pasado y al futuro, posibilita aprovechar el momento. De Dioniso a lo digital, es una idea antigua: una idea a-temporal. Algo que probablemente la música pop seguirá reinventando por siempre“. Finiquitar un libro de electrónica asumiendo que no es “nada más que pop” seguro que horroriza a muchos críticos y a los lectores más cegatos… Pero, qué queréis que os diga, justo en ese punto de libro, mi campo de experiencia y el de Simon Reynolds estaban tan solapados que no pude evitar soltar una lágrima de emoción.
Así que repito: ¿es posible y necesaria una “crítica musical”? Por muy absurda que resulte mi posición al practicar yo mismo este tipo de crítica, mi opinión es que no, que no es posible… pero que sí es necesaria. Imposible es mantener la ilusión de que, como crítico, tienes la potestad suficiente para decidir qué está bien y qué está mal. Imposible es intentar apabullar al lector de tus críticas por medio de tecnicismos musicales y pajillerismos diversos que enmascaren lo que en el fondo estás diciendo: que a ti te gusta o no te gusta un disco en concreto. Imposible es intentar establecerse -y anquilosarse- en una tecnocracia que se cree en la posesión de una verdad absoluta que lo único que hace es formar a nuevas generaciones para que perpetúen los viejos clichés desarrollados por los más viejos del lugar. Todo esto es imposible, pero aun así la crítica musical es algo necesario siempre y cuando (bajo mi punto de vista) se practique no como algo que te eleva sobre quien te lee, sino como un espacio que compartes con él: como esa área en la que tu espacio de experiencia converge con el suyo.
Me gusta pensar que Simon Reynolds estaría de acuerdo con todo lo que he dicho hasta el momento, y me gustaría pensarlo precisamente porque la lectura de “Energy Flash” (editado ahora en nuestro país por CONTRA), pese a no ser un libro de crítica sino de historia musical, ha acabado por afianzarme en mi propia opinión. El subtítulo del tomo es “Un viaje a través de la música rave y la cultura de baile“, y lo cierto es que, aunque Reynolds cumple (con holgura) sus promesas, lo hace más bien en sus propios términos. Desde la introducción del libro, el autor deja bien claro que va a escribir de algo que le apasiona: de un movimiento musical, el rave, que vivió múltiples mutaciones pero que siempre se mantuvo fiel a su naturaleza de monstruo en el que drogas y música electrónica no sólo iban de la mano, sino que se utilizaban para amplificarse el uno al otro ad infinitum.
La visión historicista de Reynolds es pluscuamperfecta: parte de la asimilación de la herencia del garage disco neoyorkino por parte de Detroit y Chicago para saltar a la re-interpretación y bastardización de los sonidos de las dos ciudades yankis por parte de la muchachada británica que, inmersa en su particular segundo verano del amor, en los años 1988 y 1989 añadió el toque balearic a lo ya mencionado para trenzar el ADN definitivo del sonido ‘ardcore. Más tarde, ese rave se iría convulsionando en otros formatos como el acid rave o el rave’n’roll hasta que, en 1990-92, se convirtió en un fenómeno masivo, en una bestia de mil cabezas de nombres como tribal, ambient, IDM, trance, phuture funk, jungle, gabba, happy hardcore, trip-hop, techstep, drum and bass, speed garage, big beat, UK garage, 2step… Cada una de las cabezas de esta bestia mitológica es descrita por Reynolds con una finura subyugante, con una habilidad para la cronología preclara, con una claridad de líneas dispuestas a ser aprehendidas y, sobre todo, con una emoción a flor de piel plenamente identificable por el lector a poco que haya sido fanático de la música electrónica.
Ahí está el factor diferencial que convierte a “Energy Flash” en algo único: en que Reynolds prefiere la emoción al intelecto. En que el autor se inmiscuye continuamente en lo explicado y no intenta crear en ningún momento una ilusión de academicismo: el ‘ardcore es algo que creció y se desarrolló a pie de calle, y por lo tanto intentar buscarle las tres patas esnobistas a este gato callejero no tendría ningún tipo de sentido. De hecho, el rollo rave fue algo tan absorbente que el mismo Reynolds deja al descubierto el poco material documental existente de la época: todo el mundo estaba demasiado ocupado en “vivir” el aquí y el ahora como para preocuparse de la posteridad. Ahí está la huella dactilar que tanto fascina a Simon Reynolds, ya que este fue este un movimiento musical y social que aniquilaba por completo algunos de los signos de identidad más básicos del sistema capitalista: el culto al yo quedaba aplastado por el “chase the dragon” dulcísimo del sentimiento comunal tan característico en el consumo de éxtasis, y la pleitesía desaforada al consumismo dentro de las reglas del mercado no funcionaban para nada entre un grupo de raveros que no consumían alcohol (para potenciar el efecto de las drogas) y que preferían operar en situaciones totalmente alegales (raves al aire libre, etc.).
¿Fue el rave el movimiento cultural más peligroso de los últimos años? Si lo fue, no tardó en ser asimilado por el sistema… Y este desencanto es algo que Reynolds tampoco elude: sin apartarse de su labor lúdica e historicista, el autor nunca esconde que, antes que crítico, está escribiendo (¡se está dejando la piel en un opus elefantiásico!) como fan: su abordaje de la evolución histórica del ‘ardcore es impecable, incluso en las diversas actualizaciones de la obra que llegan tan lejos como para cerrar “Energy Flash” con el reciente EDM, pero donde verdaderamente está la chicha de este tomo es en el revolucionario punto de vista que propone Reynolds. Ya no es sólo que él mismo se describa como ravero de pro, sino que, como tal, no duda ni un instante en huir como de la peste de todo lo que huela a “intelligent”, a intento de convertir la pulsión gozosamente primitiva del ‘ardcore en algo mental más cercano al high art. Hablando en plata: entiende a Aphex Twin, pero le deja mucho más frío que un tema anónimo que sepa tocarle la fibra sensible en medio de una rave después de haberse comido dos pastillas.
Podría decirse que esta es una eterna lucha de contrarios: la alta cultura contra la baja cultura. Pero, si nos lo paramos a pensar (y, de hecho, Reynolds nos obliga a reflexionar al respecto), tendremos que preguntarnos: ¿por qué hemos acabado conviniendo que la música electrónica inteligente, la que está pensada para ser disfrutada con la cabeza, es “mejor” y “de mayor calidad” que esa otra que ha sido creada con fines puramente hedonistas, para dejar que el cuerpo se pierda en sí mismo? Lo decía más arriba: aquí están (estamos) las nuevas generaciones de críticos repitiendo los clichés de las viejas firmas intocables. Por suerte, alguien como Reynolds se erige como defensor absoluto de los placeres más epidérmicos, de la aniquilación del ego para perdernos en el vacío cósmico del placer musical. Algo así como si un crítico cinematográfico se empeñara en demostrar que la comedia puede ser tanto o más elevada que el drama.
“Energy Flash” podría y debería convertirse en una herramienta para tirar abajo anticuadas concepciones de la crítica musical, las mismas que desaconsejarían a cualquiera hacer lo que hace Reynolds: cerrar su libro hablando de Ke$ha. ¿Por qué no? Al fin y al cabo, esa pulsión gozosamente primitiva de la que hablaba más arriba no es otra cosa que una de las actitudes más contestatarias de nuestros tiempos modernos. Y esto es algo que no digo yo, sino que es explicado en extensión por el propio autor: “El impulso apocalíptico de la cultura pop no tiene que ver con el Fin de los Tiempos en el sentido literal. Es una estratagema para finalizar, por así decir, el tiempo, al escapar de la variante medida y planificada del mismo: la tiranía del trabajo pagado por horas, el tiempo detenido del instituto o la universidad. Es un gasto a lo loco que echa por tierra la lógica economizada del tiempo invertido de manera prudente en el futuro. El ahora apocalíptico es un permiso para que el presente se libere de las cadenas que lo atan al pasado y al futuro, posibilita aprovechar el momento. De Dioniso a lo digital, es una idea antigua: una idea a-temporal. Algo que probablemente la música pop seguirá reinventando por siempre“. Finiquitar un libro de electrónica asumiendo que no es “nada más que pop” seguro que horroriza a muchos críticos y a los lectores más cegatos… Pero, qué queréis que os diga, justo en ese punto de libro, mi campo de experiencia y el de Simon Reynolds estaban tan solapados que no pude evitar soltar una lágrima de emoción.
May 19, 2020
Way more thorough than 'Last Night a DJ Saved My Life,' 'Energy Flash' will give you the score on no small number of electronic genres and sub-genres, though Reynolds, by his own admission, focuses disproportionately on hardcore and her stylistic offspring. I personally sought out this book to read what he has to say about UK Garage, but what I found was rather unsatisfactory compared to what he wrote in his 1999 article for The Wire (https://www.thewire.co.uk/in-writing/...), which was surprisingly more in-depth and entertaining to read than his book chapter on garage in 'Energy Flash.'
The ideal way to read this book would be to go chapter-by-chapter, listening to playlists with the songs name-dropped in each section before moving on to the next, in-order to get the full-understanding of what Reynolds is talking about. Some kind soul has already compiled a master-playlist with every song mentioned in 'Energy Flash' (that are available on Spotify at least), but not sure about individual chapter-themed ones.
On a literary level I'm pleased that Reynolds does a nice job of tempering his revery for each style of music by highlighting its faults, and vice versa, but readers beware: in addition to some unsavory anachronistic terminology, Reynolds gets pretty heavy-handed with the adjectives (often of his own coinage). In a single paragraph you might get words like "orgasma-tronic," "eroto-mystic," "pornotopian," and "avant-lumpen" tossed around in fast-succession. When he gets this terminological bombardment right though, it can be pretty funny, and at its best, quite artful.
The ideal way to read this book would be to go chapter-by-chapter, listening to playlists with the songs name-dropped in each section before moving on to the next, in-order to get the full-understanding of what Reynolds is talking about. Some kind soul has already compiled a master-playlist with every song mentioned in 'Energy Flash' (that are available on Spotify at least), but not sure about individual chapter-themed ones.
On a literary level I'm pleased that Reynolds does a nice job of tempering his revery for each style of music by highlighting its faults, and vice versa, but readers beware: in addition to some unsavory anachronistic terminology, Reynolds gets pretty heavy-handed with the adjectives (often of his own coinage). In a single paragraph you might get words like "orgasma-tronic," "eroto-mystic," "pornotopian," and "avant-lumpen" tossed around in fast-succession. When he gets this terminological bombardment right though, it can be pretty funny, and at its best, quite artful.
May 24, 2023
I am on record as a Simon Reynolds fan, but I found this one to be one of his weaker efforts. Some of that comes down to taste (I'm just not as big a fan of dance music as I am of, say, post-punk, and what I do like largely seems to be what Reynolds dislikes, such as IDM), but I also found Reynolds' writing here to be less intriguing than in other places as he presents this largely as a chronological history with few attempts to delve deeper into what was going on behind the scenes, possibly due to the fact that this book was relatively early on in Reynolds' career, a supposition backed up by the much more theoretical chapters added to the end of the book on reissue...the interview with Reynolds alone is deeper than the entire original book (fascinatingly, the chapter on IDM DOES go a bit deeper than the others, as Reynolds seemed to feel he had something to prove in his grudge, and he makes some excellent points even if at the end of the day I'd still rather hear Autechre than most given house tunes). The writing itself has in many places not aged well, such as the breaks into Jamaican patois when discussing drum and bass or the frankly bizarre sympathizing with the rich faux bohemian jetsetters of the dance music party scene, nor has much of the criticism (Tricky being labeled the new Bowie is such a late 90s thought and seems incredibly odd today) so I'd say this is best taken as a snapshot of attitudes towards dance music around the turn of the millennium, worth seeking out for an overview of the history up to that point and for Reynolds completists but maybe not for many other people.
April 21, 2021
A quite interesting expository book on British rave culture from 1988-98. Goes a bit into the origins and major influences of the scene in general and each specific subgenre that came in the wake of the acid house movement and accompanying MDMA-fueled dance craze that swept the nation. Interesting stuff, even if some of Reynolds' personal taste biases clash against my own. I got into electronic music through IDM Simon, fuck off with your backhanded descriptions. Any sect inherently opposed to the whole drug-fuelled nightmare that Ecstasy inevitably turned into after people got into it too hard is frequently treated with disdain or amused condescension from Reynolds, who seeks to assert the ultimate primacy of Ecstasy-enhanced danceability over listenability (that is, unless you've overdone it, then he rightfully notices that it devolves into amphetamine-reptile horrorshow stuff). To each his own, sure, and it makes sense in the context of club music, but man, you don't have to slag them off that hard.
March 1, 2018
Very informative, well written (well, maybe except overusing few adjectives). I liked that Raynolds adresses issues which were avoided by scholars from CCCS (Birmingham school) : dancing, drugs etc. Sometimes his explanations are contradictory thought. For example: why people started listening gabber and hardcore in Europe? Because this is music for people who no longer feels warm rush while on ecstasy. Why did people enjoyed hardcore in USA? Because this is music for people who are still on their ecstasy honeymoon. It looks like drugs serves for as easy explanation of various phenomena and sometimes it seems to be very far-fetched. Numerous references to psychoanalysis and poststructuralist like Deluze or Kristeva were also irritating. I don't understand how people still believes this crap to be true. Nevertheless I really liked this book. All the more because I share many of Raynolds' view regarding hardcore rave.
August 1, 2025
This book is quite comprehensive for the time period which it covers, and it was a blast to read about the origins of a scene I know and love so well. A few particulars I rather enjoyed: the descriptions of songs (a real creative use of vocabulary to give you a real feel for the tracks), the personal anecdotes of experiences the author had, and the philosophical analytics of different aspects of the scene, music, and what it represents. I'm excited to dive deeper into the genres described, and am glad as well that I will have an all-the-deeper appreciation for them.
"Vibe at a basic level means a good atmosphere, and more than that a coherent atmosphere. Not necessarily rowdy or euphoric, it could be downtempo, a moody atmosphere. But it’s about when you enter a club and there’s a palpable feeling of energy or emotion that everyone’s tuned into and, more than that, everyone is helping to create."
4/5 Stars
"Vibe at a basic level means a good atmosphere, and more than that a coherent atmosphere. Not necessarily rowdy or euphoric, it could be downtempo, a moody atmosphere. But it’s about when you enter a club and there’s a palpable feeling of energy or emotion that everyone’s tuned into and, more than that, everyone is helping to create."
4/5 Stars
August 23, 2021
An exhaustive personal history of the rave era. The first few chapters are a straightforward history, but once the narrative reaches the point where the author himself was participating it becomes much more gonzo and nonlinear. Lots of deep dives on specific subgenres and movements that were occurring in parallel and stories of what he got up to in those milieus. I found the endless lists of track names daunting, eventually tiring of highlighting every single one I couldn't recognize, but I suspect I'd get even more out of this book with a complete playlist of the hundreds of tracks he rattles off to characterize the various eras. It's amazing that Reynolds never became a selector himself, given his obvious gift for curation. A fun although often tiring book, it took me a couple of years of dipping in and out to read it.
August 31, 2024
I first read this book circa 2002...and it has aged well. It now stands as a cultural memoir of the hyperspeed innovation of the 1990s, along with its roots in earlier decades. It has an anthropological intensity, like an alien explorer documenting the culture of a new planet. And the fact that it was written before the maturation of the internet is telling from its careful structure and writing. I generally dislike any writing derived from UK music journalism but this book rises way, way above that nasty little genre.
Reynold's post-1998 updates also provide good intellectual and emotional bookends. Indeed, there is something Ballardian in his reflections - it would be fascinating see him tackle fiction. Finally, I HAVE to give this 5 stars to piss off all the nit-picking, self-regarding, wannabe critics writing in this review section!!
Reynold's post-1998 updates also provide good intellectual and emotional bookends. Indeed, there is something Ballardian in his reflections - it would be fascinating see him tackle fiction. Finally, I HAVE to give this 5 stars to piss off all the nit-picking, self-regarding, wannabe critics writing in this review section!!
August 24, 2021
I read this book for a podcast episode I wrote about EDM. The book is very informative, though if you're not wanting A LOT of details on ALL the different artists that had strong presence during different generations of EDM (which there are a lot), then this book may be a lot. Reynolds was very thorough on getting all his information. It was fun and interesting looking up the songs he mentions, and it was really nice to get the perspective of someone who didn't love EDM in the very beginning. The way he describes his moment of understanding EDM is beautiful, and I even quoted him in my podcast episode.
https://open.spotify.com/episode/6oP1...
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast...
https://open.spotify.com/episode/6oP1...
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast...
February 27, 2024
an overall fascinating and clearly loving top down view of rave culture and it’s ping-longing influence from the us to the uk and the rest of europe and back again. my one gripe would be reynolds’ repeated bone to pick with “intelligent” dance music of various stripes, but i think that was more a result of an of-the-time “us vs them” narrative. time has obviously flattened the influence of all this music to where i discovered most of what is catalogued here in a continuum that had space for both. in any case, this book connected a lot of dots and (minus a few dated transgressions) is definitely a worthwhile venture for those both well-versed in this world and the less informed but culturally curious. 3.5 stars
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