Under the Scots Pines, Rave Culture Lives On

Electronic dance music is not a difficult genre to find in the UK. There is an EDM-based event almost any night of the week here in St Andrews, and it dominates music festivals — especially following a significant post-pandemic rise. Only a week ago, DJ Fred Again sold out the Scottish Event Campus in Glasgow almost immediately, announcing the show and releasing tickets just a few days before the show took place. 

Though electronic music has never been particularly niche, its push into the mainstream as its own distinct genre is notable. With this takeoff, famous DJ sets have begun to feel more like concerts than raves. At a Dom Dolla show I went to in San Francisco, I watched a friend get punched above the eyebrow by a fan trying to push their way closer to the front of the crowd. The anonymity of a pashmina and sunglasses clearly have enabled fans to freely show hostility and disrespect towards fellow ravers. 

I had heard stories about true rave subculture — stories of friends having a plastic sprout clipped on them if people appreciated their ‘energy,’ ‘rave parents’ with backpacks full of essentials for anyone in need, and the recitation of peace, love, unity, and respect (PLUR, for short) as event-goers pass beaded bracelets to one another. I thought this subculture had all but disappeared — but in late September, dancing under towering trees illuminated by flashing lights and lasers, I realised I found a holdout. 

Woodland Dance Project is a twice-yearly festival in Vogrie Country Park, a small forest about a 30-minute drive south of Edinburgh. It’s a humble festival with moderately famous headliners, a small social media presence, and little promotion aside from basic logistics. The main stage, in the shadow of a grove of Scots Pines, had lasers projected onto the trees and diamond-shaped mirrors hanging between them. It was simple, but stunning. The two side stages were simply white tents in an adjoining field. Admittedly, at times, the music left something to be desired. This year featured mostly drum and bass, which can be overstimulating — especially with headliner 33 Below frequently jumping on the microphone to rap over his own songs. 

Waiting alone in the crowd for my friends to return from the bathrooms, though, I understood the beauty of what a festival like this can offer. Groups of people approached me, danced with me, and then left without a word. When the lights flicked on, the group I was dancing with exchanged a “thank you for dancing with me,” and we parted ways without even asking each other’s names. I watched a glowstick-adorned ‘rave mom’ approach a complete (albeit inebriated) stranger. Sitting him down and pulling a bottle of water from her backpack, she continued dancing with him on the ground to diminish any anxiety or embarrassment he may have felt. I left Woodland Dance Project grateful to finally have witnessed the care and respect the EDM community can hold.

For St Andrews students interested in experiencing this subculture, societies that host rave-like events like Szentek and Wax Rooms are a great place to start. The music, venues, decor, and outfits are all there. At the end of the day, though, these are St Andrews events, and much of the community aspect of them consists of our fellow university students. The beauty of Woodland Dance Project was the way that total strangers hold such positivity and open-mindedness for each other, with nothing but a shared appreciation of electronic music and rave culture. Beyond St Andrews, branch out, and you can find the beating heart of dance subculture — not in the spectacle of an arena show, but in a fleeting moment on a forest dance floor.

Photo by Alex Brubaker