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La rave a toujours vingt ans
LE MONDE
13.08.08
'histoire de la musique pop comporte non pas un, mais trois Summers of Love, ces "étés de l'amour" synonymes de révolution culturelle et musicale. Celui de 1967 bien sûr, le premier, qui vit déferler la vague hippie avec son slogan "Peace and Love". Mais aussi ceux de 1988 et 1989, moins connus du grand public, car circonscrits à la Grande-Bretagne. Leur portée se mesure néanmoins encore aujourd'hui. Ce sont les étés de la génération électronique, les actes fondateurs de la culture rave qui s'est étendue en Europe tout au long des années 1990.



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C'était il y a vingt ans déjà et le festival Astropolis s'apprête à célébrer l'événement lors de sa 14e édition, du 13 au 17 août, à Brest (Finistère). Pour l'occasion, ont été invités quelques DJ historiques, comme Daniel Bell ou Derrick May, l'un des trois "inventeurs" de la techno, à Detroit (Michigan).

Organisateur d'Astropolis, Mathieu Guerre-Berthelot n'a pas vécu "l'été de l'amour" de 1988, et pour cause : "le Summer of Love français s'appelle en réalité Winter of Love 92", plaisante-t-il. "La presse rock française racontait cette drôle de tendance qui secouait la culture pop britannique, se souvient-il. On regardait ça avec un peu de mépris, pour nous c'était un truc de boîte de nuit. Mais quand nous sommes allés à la grande rave des Transmusicales de Rennes en 1992, on a enfin compris de quoi il s'agissait, ce fut un vrai choc culturel. Tout le monde souriait, dansait, ça nous changeait des ambiances de concert rock sinistres des années 1980."

Une révélation identique à celle des clubbers anglais, à l'été 1988 dans les discothèques de Londres, lorsque des DJ (Danny Rampling ou Paul Okenfoald) revenus d'Ibiza, dans les Baléares, fédèrent les branchés autour d'une musique inconnue. Une mixture joyeuse et hypnotique de disco, mais surtout de techno venue de Detroit et de house music venue de Chicago (Illinois).

D'Ibiza, les DJ ont aussi rapporté une drogue que l'on dit inoffensive : le MDMA ou ecstasy. Une molécule qui provoque l'empathie pour son voisin, donne le sentiment d'être en symbiose avec la musique et avec son environnement. "Un déconstipant idéal pour Anglais coincés", selon Simon Reynolds, auteur de l'ouvrage de référence sur cette époque, Energy Flash, a Journey Through Rave Music and Dance Culture (éd. Picador, jamais traduit en français).

PARTICIPER À UNE RÉVOLUTION

En quelques mois, la rumeur des folles nuits de Londres se répand et provoque l'été suivant, en 1989, une bacchanale pour la jeunesse comme le pays n'en a pas connu depuis des lustres. Il suffit d'un entrepôt ou d'une clairière. Quelques enceintes, des DJ, des milliers d'initiés qui affluent, guidés par répondeurs téléphoniques interposés et voilà qu'une rave prend forme. To rave : en anglais, le verbe signifie délirer. Il convient à l'atmosphère de ces fêtes sauvages où l'on danse jusqu'au lendemain, en communion avec la musique et tous ces inconnus, devenus ses meilleurs amis. On voit des choses inimaginables jusqu'alors comme un supporteur du club de football londonien de Chelsea enlacer un inconditionnel du rival Arsenal. Des embouteillages monstres bloquent chaque week-end la M25, le périphérique de Londres. La foule est fédérée par le secret et le sentiment exaltant de participer à une révolution musicale et festive aussi importante que la naissance du rock dans les années 1950 ou du rap à l'aube des années 1980.

A cause de son absence de discours, de revendications politiques ou sociales, le mouvement rave essuiera des critiques à ses débuts. Les DJ américains, ceux de Detroit surtout, supportent mal de voir leur musique, cérébrale, futuriste et surtout intimement liée à l'histoire de leur ville, réduite à un support festif. A New York et Chicago, l'esprit disco et house, issu de la communauté gay, s'en accorde mieux.

Les raves se politiseront en fait avec leur interdiction par le gouvernement Thatcher en Grande-Bretagne, en 1992. En France, ce sera avec la circulaire Pasqua de 1995 intitulée "raves, des phénomènes à haut risque". A chaque fois, les conséquences seront les mêmes : interdiction ou grandes difficultés d'organisation pour les soirées "légales", radicalisation d'une partie du mouvement dans le mouvement des travellers et les free parties (Teknival en France) qui réuniront jusqu'à 40 000 personnes en France au début des années 2000.

Alors que les dix ans du Summer of love électronique avaient généré une importante littérature en Grande-Bretagne, ses vingt ans sont étonnamment peu célébrés, en dehors de la presse spécialisée. Le signe d'une certaine désaffection pour les musiques électroniques ? "Au contraire, estime Mathieu Guerre-Berthelot, je crois qu'on ne commémore vraiment que ce qui a complètement disparu. Or la culture rave et électronique est particulièrement vivante aujourd'hui. Il suffit de regarder la mode de la Tektonik dans les cours d'écoles ou le courant nu-rave chez les jeunes rockers anglais. Une nouvelle génération a pris le relais."

Quant aux interdictions frappant les musiques électroniques, elles ont fini par tomber. "Le seul truc que les autorités ont encore du mal à comprendre, constate Mathieu Guerre-Berthelot, c'est pourquoi on s'obstine à terminer à 7 heures du matin et pas à 3 heures, comme un festival rock. Mais ici, on ne vient pas voir un simple concert, on vit une expérience globale. Et le lever du soleil en fait partie."

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The 3 P.M. Brunch With the 4 A.M. Vibe By BEN DETRICKNOV. 16, 2011 Continue reading the main story Share This Page Share Tweet Pin Email More Save Photo An enthusiastic reveler parties to a performance by Roxy Cottontail, a promoter, at Eat Yo Brunch at Yotel on 10th Avenue, where the $35 brunch allows patrons to eat and drink for two hours. Credit Deidre Schoo for The New York Times BRUNCH, an occasion for flapjacks, Bloody Marys and meandering conversation, is traditionally the most sluggish of meals. But a smorgasbord of clubby New York restaurants have transformed lazy midday gatherings into orgies of overindulgence with blaring music, jiggling go-go dancers and bar tabs that mushroom into five figures. No, boozy brunches aren’t new. Inspired by the daytime debauchery on Pampelonne Beach in St.-Tropez, where jet-setters arrive by Ferrari and yacht, early iterations began at Le Bilboquet on the Upper East Side in the early ’90s, and spread to meatpacking district flashpoints like Bagatelle and Merkato 55 in 2008. But more recently, these brunches have been supersized, moving from smaller lounges to brassy nightclubs like Lavo and Ajna. The party blog Guest of a Guest has taken to calling it the “Battle of the Brunches.” “Not everyone gets to run to the beach or jump on a plane,” said Noah Tepperberg, an owner of Lavo in Midtown, which started its brunch party a year ago. “If you want to leave your house on the weekend, brunch fills that void.” On a recent Saturday, Mr. Tepperberg stood in Lavo’s basement kitchen, surrounded by meat slicers and employees readying confectionary “poison apples” for a Halloween party for a pre-split Kim Kardashian. Upstairs, patrons in costumes danced atop tables and chairs, bobbing to the carnival syncopation of Jay-Z and Kanye West’s “Paris.” Confetti and blasts of fog filled the air. Continue reading the main story Related Coverage slideshow The Brunch Party Takes Over Clubs NOV. 16, 2011 Advertisement Continue reading the main story It was 3 p.m. “People walk in and say, ‘I can’t believe this is going on right now,’ ” Mr. Tepperberg said. The brunch bacchanalia shows no sign of running dry. The Mondrian SoHo is starting Scene Sundays this month at its Imperial No. Nine restaurant. In Las Vegas, the original Lavo started a Champagne brunch a few weeks ago. Similar affairs have bubbled up in Boston, Los Angeles and Washington. For those looking to replicate the formula, here’s a guide to some of New York’s frothiest. Day and Night Ajna Bar (25 Little West 12th Street, dayandnightnyc.com); Saturday, noon to 6 p.m. This extravagant French-themed party landed in October at Ajna Bar in the meatpacking district, after dousing the Hamptons, Art Basel in Miami and the Oak Room in the Plaza Hotel with rosé. Beneath an industrial skylight and fluttering flags from the United Kingdom, France and Israel, well-heeled patrons pumped their fists and posed for purse-lipped Facebook photos, racking up huge tabs every Saturday. “I understand there’s a lot of people out there going through hard times,” said Daniel Koch, the promoter who helped start the Day and Night parties at Merkato 55. “But what you want to do with your money is your business.” SIGNAL TO DANCE ON TABLES “If you’ve been sprayed with Champagne, make some noise!” a hype man will shout between piercing dance tracks from Robyn, Calvin Harris and Oasis. Dancers in orange bathing suits will emerge; pipes will blast jets of fog. In a dangerously drunken take on a bar mitzvah ritual, a man spooning dessert out of a giant bowl will be seated on a chair and lifted high into the air by his cronies. BRUNCH SET Club-savvy guests seem piped in from Miami, Monaco and Merrill Lynch. “I’m from the South, so drinking during the day is not new to me,” said a woman who wore a Diane Von Furstenberg dress but not the necessary wristband to enter the V.I.P. area. Outside, near a black Aston Martin coupe, a young man wearing paint on his face and sunglasses delved into socioeconomics. “We’re the 1 percent,” he said to a woman, matter of factly. THE BUFFET The Nutella-stuffed croissants ($12) cater to Europeans, while a gimmicky $2,500 ostrich egg omelet (with foie gras, lobster, truffle, caviar and a magnum of Dom Perignon) is for aspiring Marie Antoinettes. Champagne bottles start at $500; packages with several bottles of liquor and mixers for mojitos or bellinis are $1,000. The check can be sobering. “You didn’t look at the price of the Dom bottle!” a man barked into his iPhone, to a friend who apparently ditched before paying. “It’s $700!” STILL-HOT ACCESSORY Slatted “shutter shades” live on at Day and Night. DID THE D.J. PLAY “WELCOME TO ST.-TROPEZ”? Yes. Lavo Champagne Brunch Lavo (39 East 58th Street, lavony.com); Saturday, 2 to 6:30 p.m. Smog guns. Confetti cannons. Piñatas. Masked masseuses. Dancers in Daisy Duke shorts (some on stilts, obviously). Since last November, this Italian restaurant has roiled with the energy and pageantry of Mardi Gras. At the recent Halloween party, Slick Rick, an old-school rapper with an eye patch and glinting ropes of jewelry, lethargically performed several ’80s hits. Some of the younger “Black Swans” in attendance were unsure of his identity. “Is he big in London?” asked an Australian woman wearing a top hat. SIGNAL TO DANCE ON TABLES Caffeinated anthems like Pitbull’s “Hey Baby” and Roscoe Dash’s “All the Way Turnt Up” are accentuated by processions of bouncers carrying women above them in tubs, like Cleopatra on a palanquin. Polenta pancakes taking up precious square footage? Just kick them aside with your stilettos. Newsletter Sign Up Continue reading the main story Open Thread Newsletter A look from across the New York Times at the forces that shape the dress codes we share, with Vanessa Friedman as your personal shopper. You agree to receive occasional updates and special offers for The New York Times's products and services. See Sample Privacy Policy Opt out or contact us anytime BRUNCH SET Share Champagne spritzers with willowy model types and inheritors of wealth. The scrum on an October afternoon included the son of a Mongolian dignitary, six scions of Mexican plutocracy wearing novelty somberos, and at least one supermodel. “She’s everywhere,” said Mr. Tepperberg, as the nymph, whose name he couldn’t remember, disappeared into the jungle of merriment. THE BUFFET With the emphasis on tabletop dancing, Italian trattoria offerings (margherita pizzas for $21, and lemon ricotta waffles for $19) are often abandoned underfoot and sprinkled with confetti. Proving alcohol reigns supreme here, ice buckets are carefully shielded with napkins. Bottle service rules: Moët Brut is $195 and liquor starts at $295. Balthazar and Nebuchadnezzar sizes surge toward the $10,000 mark. RISKY ROSé Alcohol and high-altitude dancing can be perilous: there was a brief hullabaloo in one corner when several women took a tumble. DID THE D.J. PLAY “WELCOME TO ST.-TROPEZ”? Yes. Eat Yo Brunch Yotel (570 10th Avenue, yotel.com); Sunday, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. If spending thousands of dollars makes your stomach turn, this newish party at Yotel is more easily digested. This affably cartoonish affair, held at the space-age hotel in Hell’s Kitchen with the design aesthetics of a Pokémon, draws a gay-friendly crowd lured northward by Patrick Duffy, a promoter. “There’s a lot of pressure in night life,” Mr. Duffy said. “But I feel like Sunday is a comedown. It doesn’t have to be perfect.” SIGNAL TO DANCE ON TABLES These connoisseurs of brunch wear designer shoes too stylish for tromping atop omelets. With a D.J. spinning dance tracks from LeLe and Earth, Wind & Fire, guests sip bellinis at the bar or banter at long communal tables. The performers are looser. One afternoon, Roxy Cottontail, a pink-haired promoter, vamped around the sunken dining area with a microphone. “Don’t make kitty pounce,” she rapped, before climbing atop a table. BRUNCH SET Clusters of trim men wear leather motorcycle jackets or shroud themselves in patterned scarves. “It’s an eclectic, downtown vibe,” Ms. Cottontail said. “We have the most fabulous gays in New York City.” When a platinum-blond waiter in skintight jeans pranced in front of a wall decorated with pictures of sumo wrestlers riding Japanese carp, it seemed straight from an anime cell. THE BUFFET For an egalitarian $35, patrons receive unlimited grub — options include chilaquiles, halibut sliders and seaweed salad — and a two-hour window of boozing. “It’s not bougie,” said Mr. Duffy, who bounded across the room hugging guests and hand-delivering shots. “You could be a poor, starving artist or someone that doesn’t take a client for under $20 million.” COLOR CODE Wear purple if you hope to be camouflaged by the staff outfits, chairs and ceilings. DID THE D.J. PLAY “WELCOME TO ST.-TROPEZ”? No. Sunset Saturdays PH-D Rooftop Lounge at Dream Downtown (355 West 16th Street, dreamdowntown.com); Saturday, 5:30 to 10 p.m. Despite a happy hour time slot, this sunset party atop the Dream Downtown hotel is not for pre-gaming. After funneling in brunch crowds from elsewhere, 8 p.m. has the frenzied atmosphere and intoxication of 2 a.m. The offbeat timing may deter conventional weekend warriors. “No matter how cool the place, some people feel Friday and Saturday nights are for amateurs,” said Matt Strauss, a manager of PH-D. “We’re not for amateurs.” SIGNAL TO DANCE ON TABLES The D.J. rapid-fires through tracks from C+C Music Factory, LMFAO and Rick Ross, but booze-lubricated guests scramble on couches with little hesitation. Those grappling with bursts of existential angst after six hours of brunch can gaze pensively at the spectacular views of Midtown Manhattan. BRUNCH SET Attractive women and affluent men knot around tables; hotel guests gawk from the bar. On a recent Saturday, Mark Wahlberg danced with a few friends, and David Lee, a former New York Knick, enjoyed downtime provided by the N.B.A. lockout. “We saw an angle,” said Matt Assante, a promoter. “People spend more money than at nighttime.” THE BUFFET Brunch is thankfully over, but crispy calamari ($17) and guacamole ($12) could constitute a light dinner. A bottle of Veuve Clicquot is $475. Cîroc vodka is $450. Cocktails like the Cloud Nine (Beefeater gin, Campari, grapefruit) are $18; a Bud Light is $10. WINDING DOWN After the rigors of daylong gorging, relax with the help of an on-site masseuse. DID THE D.J. PLAY “WELCOME TO ST.-TROPEZ”? Obviously.

The 3 P.M. Brunch With the 4 A.M. Vibe By BEN DETRICK NOV. 16, 2011 Continue reading the main story Share This Page Share Tweet Pin Email More Save Photo An enthusiastic reveler parties to a performance by Roxy Cottontail, a promoter, at Eat Yo Brunch at Yotel on 10th Avenue, where the $35 brunch allows patrons to eat and drink for two hours. Credit Deidre Schoo for The New York Times BRUNCH, an occasion for flapjacks, Bloody Marys and meandering conversation, is traditionally the most sluggish of meals. But a smorgasbord of clubby New York restaurants have transformed lazy midday gatherings into orgies of overindulgence with blaring music, jiggling go-go dancers and bar tabs that mushroom into fiv

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