Solstice, Gen X and Making Sense of the Madness
Why sometimes dancing might be just the therapy you need.
I graduated from UCL in 1991 into the worst economic climate since the Wall Street Crash of 1929, into a world with one foot in Music Hall Victoriana motifs, as live gigs from a myriad of psychedelic bands, eyes rimmed with Twiggy kohl pathos, screamed to rooms of skinny boys with bowl cuts and a certain Brian Jones pallor, gave way to rave culture, where live music was replaced by techno beats. Teenagers in size xxx tie dye t’shirts hitchhiked cross country to listen to repetitive beat music from large sound systems at secret locations - generally a cow-pat infested field. Which when you look back in nostalgia, does seem somewhat of an oxymoron. We came of age and access with brick mobile phones (one of mine literally caught fire), at the dawn of the technological revolution, with our education and careers on either side of the divide.