The film crew sent my camera-shy, telly-phobic self scuttling for the relative safety of the darker rooms before I had the chance to immerse myself in their discourse. But before I move on to that, I’d like to point out that I might have found the discussion to be a teeny bit more inclusive if the panel members had been seated in the center of the room, clubbers surrounding them and free to join in. Because (to quote the immortal Dynamo City) “We’re the future, your future”.

Not that I’m holding this against the Luminopolis crew, oh no. The idea of the debate forum was a good one, although it seemed to be in trial phase, like many things going on that night. Just a friendly suggestion for next time…

There was great dancing in the electro house room, the only place where I saw people really letting go. Multiple square screen projections flicker behind the decks, a-la Brick Lane. Better still were the crowd, who were anything but Brick Lane – friendly, fun and as up for trying something new as I am. I’d never really noticed until then how a grittier atmosphere suits that style of music (which my friend called ‘filthy house’). I’ll have to give that another try in the future.

The chill-out room was as chill-out rooms usually are. White-tented dancefloor under black lights; wire and cloth creations blooming from the floor like sci-fi fungi… On to the next room, then: Small World.

I should point out here that wasn’t drinking for the first time ever in a nightclub. As a result, two realizations slowly sunk in over the course of the night. 1) Nearly every trendy/eclectic/crusty/ psytrancer around me was extremely pissed and 2) not drinking makes you So. Hungry.

By the time I’d reached the Small World room, I was so intent on feeding that the only thing I clearly remembered afterwards was the unbleached Venetian cream cake I ate (a steal at 50p a slice). There were some sort of ethnic bands playing in the background, mad tango dancers, and what-not. I barely took them in through a sugar-induced haze. Sorry; you’ll have to blame the baker.

I was just about to say, “Excuse me, can I have another slice..?” when my friend re-appeared and beckoned for me to follow him outside for a smoke. That was when I almost tripped over a portrait-drawing class in the corner of the room. As you do.

Before I had a chance to digest all of this (excuse the pun) we were at the front of the queue leading outside to the smoking section.

“You have a smoking bracelet?” asked a smiley, likeable man in an orange security vest, standing by the door.

“No,” I said, “Where can we get one?”

“At the bar,” he said cheerfully.

“Are they free?” I asked heavily, already knowing that they weren’t. He laughed and shook his head.

It was a shame, really, because I wanted to like him. I did. But I couldn’t, not after having paid twenty quid to get in, then two quid for a bag check, then another pound to get the ciggies out of the bag, and now this…. Liking him was simply costing too much.

Sad to say that this was my lasting impression of the party. As I counted my spare change the next morning, all I could think was, “I so can’t afford to like this.” I had rent to pay, after all.

Therein lies the complication with club parties: that invisible cash barrier my friend and I kept coming up against. You can give me all the freedom in the world inside of a club, but if I have to pay for it then it’s not really free, is it? Granted, SEOne is one of the more expensive venues to rent, but that only makes me wonder why they used it. The more people have to strain against that cash barrier to get at your ideals, the less accessible those ideals become.

Moving On To The Future Of Rave

Even if the Luminati haven’t come from the same free party background that I have, if they’re serious about spreading their messages of creativity and awareness-raising then they ought to consider doing non-club parties from time to time. Of course, this raises the question of how to do non-club parties without risking people lives, which has become an issue over recent years.

At the first free parties I went to (circa ’97, old-timer) there seemed to be an anarchist/anti-capitalist philosophy implicit in the parties themselves, which had nothing to do with rhetoric and everything to do with experience.

Trusting people to make their own rules in a free environment seemed to mine untapped reserves of creativity and sensitivity from them. Of course, those parties had a lot chemical help from MDMA and acid, drugs which chemically-enhance creativity and sensitivity.

Fast-forward to the early 2000s, when cocaine and ketamine dominated the scene and parties had switched to mining selfishness and cynicism from people, instead.

Self-regulation of free parties became more extreme in response to the violence that resulted. As the restrictions grew and grew, creativity evaporated and the anarchist undertone of the scene became more rhetorical than experiential.

Now it’s reached a point where creating a totally free, creative experience is just too fraught with legal and illegal threats by everyone from government to gangs. People who would once have immersed themselves in free parties increasingly choose (or are forced to) express themselves and educate themselves in isolated ways. Photos, videos, clothing, websites… I can remember a time when these things were accessories to the experience of a party. Now they’re a substitute for it, which leaves a basic need – the need for experience - unmet.

So where do we go from here? I don’t know, but since no one else seems to know either, I’m going to throw this suggestion out there. I think organizers should carry on doing free parties… but insist that people leave their on-line gadgets and status symbols at home. For one thing, these objects create a barrier between the person and party.

How many people did I see watching Luminopolis through their camera phones, eyes distanced by a mechanical lens? If only people would stop trying to capture the moment and start being it, they’d merge with their scene and each other. Establishing a personal rapport with the people around you is what really makes for a safe, free place to be.

Secondly, gadgets attract thieves. It’s a fact. In 1997 you never saw people holding anything more expensive than a can of beer at a party. And guess what? Roving gangs of thugs were not a problem.

“With freedom comes responsibility,” the old saying goes. If people started taking more responsibility for themselves and their belongings, I reckon the scavengers would soon lose interest in squat parties. And just like that, a cheaper forum for awareness-raising would be born.

© Alexia