During its ‘90s Manila heyday, rave culture was often characterized by its sheer randomness. Party whereabouts were divulged, crime caper-style, on-the-fly or until further notice. Frequently, they popped up in empty warehouses or abandoned buildings, in the same way a cluster of mushrooms might emerge from a decaying tree.
Given a rave’s spirit of bleak happenstance, it’s no surprise it’s enjoying a resurgence as of late. Kids who were merely a flickering hormone during their parents’ partying days are queuing house classics on Spotify, blowing techno up on TikTok, and DIY-ing day-glo outfits for the next EDM festival.
And why not? As democracies crumble and our world’s expiration blares its alarms, electronic music once again offers a proper escape. Not to mention, a reason to move the legs we’ve gotten back, post-lockdown. Like a shock from an ER defibrillator, thunderous synths are delivering much-needed resuscitation to nightlife.
But while the music is similar and the motivations are varied, a new book documenting the peak of Manila’s rave scene is proof that today’s revelers may be dancing to a different beat.
Published by Archivo 1984, When We Danced archives the c.1990s rave circuit in Manila shot by Eddie Boy Escudero, a photographer who was as ubiquitous to its parties as a heap of empty water bottles.