Some people say that techno "ain't got no soul," and I think they're right. It doesn't seem to elicit strong emotions. It doesn't carry a message. There's very little room for personalized performance. Indeed, I am coming to believe that these characteristics are the very point of techno, that it is all about the listener, not the performer.
Techno, I think, works as a different kind of music, with a different kind of purpose. It sings to a very visceral, ancient part of us deep down inside. It draws it out, perhaps from the "reptilian" brain, past our egos, and beckons us to dance with abandon, to surrender ourselves to the beat that comes from both outside and inside.
I feel it's very similar to--and perhaps the logicial "technologized" evolution of--tribal rhythms, the pulsating drumbeats that have had people dancing in frenzies for countless milennia. For a long time, Western music has totally forgotten this theme in favor of performer oriented music. Techno, I think, brings it back.
This total abandonment, this shedding of the ego and allowing one to have pure enjoyment is a very special thing in itself. It implies the dropping of barriers, and it implies acceptance from the others. In ancient societies, the dance was closely related with spirituality. I am beginning to see how this is so, for spirituality requires an opening up, a release of the ego, and this sort of dance can be a direct path to these goals.
My first rave was an astonishing experience, as I was totally able to let go in a way I had not done before. Later, I felt that wide doors had been opened, for I was able to see myself without the crushing ego, that self-supression that has haunted most of my life. I now know possibilities I could not see before. I now have a view of myself and what I can be, and my hopes are high.
I return to the scene for these reasons, for the music and visuals, because it is a lot of fun, and lately and most of all, because I like the people in it. You guys are really great, and I love you all.Sean Casey - email@example.com - July '93