The Rave Coat
Zomby (@ZombyMusic) is one of the few artists who truly understands how to make twitter part of their persona. Opinionated, funny and careless, he fires off small bits of wisdom, sometimes highlighted with his trademark “airhorn” exclamation. The airhorn is a reference to the golden days of rave, when whistles and airhorns where a common sound with which dancers greeted anthems. As a musician Zomby presents himself as a rave archivist and keeper of the flame. His records, especially the sprawling With Love, are a successful example of retrofitting. Zomby is a lonely believer in a future for rave, when there might be none left. He also is a bit of a fashion connoisseur. Earlier this year he was riffing on the beauty of Stone Island jackets which suddenly reminded me how important the jacket once was as part of the dance lifestyle. Stone Island with its self-proclaimed interest in experimentation, research and functionalism obviously had many overlaps with dance music during its most creative phase. Some of the brand’s innovative jackets are tailor-made for what futurist Alvin Toffler once dubbed techno rebels, the people Detroit producers like Juan Atkins longed to be.
The pivotal fashion statement in dance music was the release of LTJ Bukem’s Logical Progression compilation in 1996. In the preceding years jungle/drum ‘n bass had evolved from rave and to become the most exciting sound in dance. After making a name with peculiar tracks as ‘Music’ and ‘Atlantis (I Need You)’ the double album was highly anticipated. The compilation predictably turned out to be one of the cornerstones of dance music in the nineties and at the same time enforced the idea of jungle as a lifestyle. For jungle the love of sound was at the centre of being. Especially MC Conrad, LTJ Bukem’s loyal companion on vocals, could often be heard extolling the calm beauty of rhythm and sound as the ultimate experience. Opening up the sleeve of Logical Progression one would find a portrait of LTJ Bukem wearing a silver down jacket by Tommy Hilfiger. Although it is almost unthinkable these days, Tommy Hilfiger clothing was at one time quite rare and mysterious in Europe. Even so, the actual brand was not as important as the impression Bukem created of the musician/DJ as spaceman. Here was the man of tomorrow. The last few years the word iconic has been devalued through overuse, but this image truly deserves the term. It radiates with truth.
The down jacket and in its wake the technical jacket became interlinked with futuristic dance music. After years of concentrating on trainers the jacket emerged as the clothing item in which men would invest both money and knowledge, eventually opening the way towards the men’s fashion renaissance we are experiencing these days. The right choice of jacket entailed a symbolic choice with which one would knowingly pledge ones allegiance to futurism. From time to time it also resulted in snickering comments on the streets from people who were oblivious of the whole culture that preferably lived at night. The jacket certainly possessed a practical side. Outside the summer season nightclubbing can at times be a forbidding experience both for the DJ and public. Unexpected queues in below zero conditions are slightly less annoying wearing a protective jacket, just as it forms something of a second skin for the DJ on the road, a defence against the changing conditions of sweating rooms to fields at the edge of town to air-conditioned airports. Soon artists developed an association with certain brands. The Good Looking crew were into Tommy Hilfiger, Goldie preferred Stüssy. The high-end Stone Island was to be seen on the frame of the connoisseur, with utilitarian Spiewak forming an affordable alternative.
The MA-2 bomber jacket was an early rave favourite thanks to its timeless design and handy pockets. With jungle moving into a darker phase, militaristic themes and a prescient interest in cyberwarfare surfaced. Increasingly the idealistic space design fancied by LTJ Bukem got replaced by a brooding design often using the blooming of innumerable cameo prints (Maharishi having documented them with the utmost care.) In due course jungle lost its cultural force, the flirtation with paranoia and darkness resulted in a suffocating and charmless sound. Its UK descendents (speed garage, grime, dubstep) never were able to dominate dance culture or force a true style break. And with that techno, which just a few years earlier had been pushed aside as yesterday’s news, began a second life. The arc of techno has proven to be much longer and durable than expected. Its sense of style has diversified throughout this period. But if one should be forced to choose an emblematic brand two names spring to mind. First, coming from Detroit the dependable and functional Carhartt has an obvious relation with techno. From a more nostalgic viewpoint techno was perhaps best embodied by Helmut Lang during the mid-nineties when his coats often mixed organic and technical materials. Helmut Lang’s white clothing during this period possessed a futuristic kindness that has been completely abandoned. First by the designer himself when he left fashion for a career as an artist, followed by the culture itself which seems to be stuck in an introverted style, thankfully not seduced by an obsession with its past, yet also lacking a collective force propelling it into new forms. At the time of his exit in 2005 Lang complained that the silhouette of both men and women had not changed since the mid-nineties.
Eventually it did change. Over the years the upper echelon of techno has flirted with the gothic style of Damir Doma and Rick Owens. With their penchant for draping and dark colours these designers are perfectly suited for a more artful and reflexive period of techno. Nonetheless one can’t help feeling that for dance music to regain its euphoric futurism a turn towards a lighter style is needed. They still wander the streets in small numbers, naively optimistic men, wearing silver or white coats, half lost in reverie. Ready to be called upon for the Journey to the Martian Polar Cap, as planned two decades ago by The Martian somewhere in Detroit. If you want to join them, pack an airhorn, just in case.
(This essay first appeared in Man Got Style, november 2014)
