I Immersed Myself in Rave Culture and Here’s What I Found Out
By Stella Speridon-Violet
Photo Credit: Luke Johnson
This past weekend, I went to Goldrush. For two days, I voluntarily entered a world of bass, glitter, cowboy hats, pashminas, half-naked girls, and a lot of dust.
This was not my usual crowd, but I couldn’t pass up a good theme and the opportunity to put myself in a situation far outside of my comfort zone. I mean, I am a journalist after all.
Goldrush takes over Rawhide Western Town in Chandler, Arizona, which is already a fairly absurd sentence that I never thought I would type out. There is something inherently funny about walking through a fake Old Western town and realizing that the cowboys have been replaced by thousands of people waiting for a DJ to make the bass drop.
By the end of the weekend, I left feeling like I had conducted field research, because rave culture is fascinating.
There are rules that nobody explicitly tells you about. There are rituals happening in a glow stick circle led by women in their fifties. There is a full-on DJ set happening in a porta potty stall hosted by Dude Wipes. And there is no escaping the amount of dust and sweat you’ll find in places you never thought you’d find dust and sweat in.
Photo Credit: Luke Johnson
One of the first things you notice is that nobody is really dressed casually. Even the people who claim they “just threw something on” have somehow arrived in an outfit that required at least three trips to a thrift store and one online order. I’ve never seen more sunglasses, cowboy hats, platform boots, and bikinis in my life, and I honestly loved it. Part of going out is dressing for the fantasy of yourself!
The thing that surprised me most is how kind everyone is. You expect a crowd this large to feel anonymous; instead, rave culture seems to operate under an unspoken rule that everyone is temporarily your friend. People earnestly compliment your outfit; they ask if you're having fun. Someone will inevitably tell you that they love your energy despite having known you for approximately 45 seconds.
At one point, you're surrounded by strangers, and somehow you're all dancing together like you've known each other for years. It is a strange social phenomenon; maybe it's because everyone has already agreed to suspend a certain amount of social inhibition by showing up to a festival dressed like a disco cowboy.
Photo Credit: Luke Johnson
Friday’s headliner was Alesso, but the real star of the show was Sullivan King (he was hardcore in the best way possible). To me, EDM is a spectrum; I love a more hyper-pop version of it or house music. Sullivan King was the complete opposite, yet I still found myself having a great time. He brought out a guitar and stole the show, and I was surprised to see how many dedicated fans there were in the audience. Some had flags draped over the barricade, while others had stickers and patches lined with name, ready to headbang.
The more time I spent at Goldrush, the more I started to understand why people become so attached to this world. Beyond the music, it’s the fact that nobody cares who you are, what you look like, or what you’re doing.
We're constantly being told how to behave. How to dress. How to talk. How to present ourselves online. How to build a personal brand. But raves seem to operate on the opposite principle: Who cares? Dance.
For a culture that spends so much time policing itself online, there is something incredibly refreshing about entering a physical space where the goal is simply to let go.
Photo Credit: Luke Johnson
To be honest, the artist I was most excited for was Pauly D. I’ve watched almost every reality TV show there is, and of course, Jersey Shore was one of them.
There is something magical about club kids who become DJs and singers; they have this special appreciation for their craft that is deeper than I see with most artists. They understand music because they’ve lived through it.
And Pauly D knew exactly what the crowd wanted to hear. I sang along to “Mr. Brightside” and pumped my Italian fist to a remix of “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls. He had stage presence and made sure to include the crowd as much as possible, from jumping up onto a platform to take a picture of the audience to pausing the music just to hear the crowd sing along.
Photo Credit: Luke Johnson
So, am I a raver now? I don't know. I still don't know enough about EDM DJs to confidently tell you what subgenre I'm listening to. I will probably still Google half the lineup before pretending I know who I'm seeing. And I have no intention of making “rave girl” my entire personality.
But I understand it now: rave culture is ultimately about the permission to let yourself enjoy the moment, and that's definitely why Arizona has become a staple in the scene.
We spend so much of our lives trying to be perceived that it feels good to enter a place where nobody really cares how you're perceived at all. They just want you to dance!
And, honestly? I think I finally understand the appeal.
