The song that fought against government ban of raves

‘Flutter’: The song that saved raves from a government ban

In the heady days of 1990s British rave culture, the battle between law enforcement and partygoers was becoming somewhat of a war of attrition. For every free party snuffed out, another would pop up, with a lengthy game of cat and mouse ensuing between the two parties. The more elusive the parties became, the more it heightened their cultural appeal, garnering a widespread and beat hungry audience.

In the 1990s, a string of high-profile events fuelled the narrative of conflict between the two parties. As the May Bank holiday approached in 1992, the much-anticipated Avon Free Festival was preparing for another successful year of partying, having run since the 1970s. It was a bastion of counter-culture, changing with the cultural trends of the decades and playing host to a party of the country’s finest subculture heads.

That spring, authorities squashed the festivities by funnelling thousands into the neighbouring county of Worcestershire. In protest, the estimated 25,000 ravers partied for what was rumoured to be a whole week, on Castlemorton Common. At that point, it was the largest event the UK’s free party movement had ever seen.

What followed was a tabloid frenzy that vilified the police and ravers equally. It was deemed as a systematic failure that the party couldn’t be stopped, but, to some, it was a worrying indication of the future of counter-culture partying. 

The incident was raised in Parliament and calls for oncoming legislation grew louder. Eventually, John Major’s Conservative Government introduced the Criminal Justice And Public Order Act 1994, which set out to turn down the volume on expression and squash all emergence of free parties. Section 63 granted police the powers to remove “a gathering on land in the open air of 20 or more persons… at which amplified music is played”. To crack down on the profile of rave music even further, the bill defined music as a “succession of repetitive beats.”

This is where Autechre entered the fray, with the release of their 1994 EP ‘Anti-Ep’. It The duo comprised of Rob Brown and Sean Booth produced a track that evaded the net of regularity by layering it with an unconventional beat pattern. Speaking to The Independent about the track ‘Flutter’, Booth said “We made as many different bars as we could on the drum machine, then strung them all together”.

The pair released the EP with a disclaimer that explained ‘Flutter’ was programmed to have non-repetitive beats and, therefore, “can be played at both forty-five and thirty-three revolutions under the proposed law”. However, it later continued to advise DJs to “have a lawyer and a musicologist present at all times to confirm the non-repetitive nature of the music in the event of police harassment.” 

But the track’s genius didn’t lie in its exposure of the loophole but rather in its ability to generate a sense of rhythmic consistency despite its nonconforming structure. While it’s conventionality allowed it to be seamlessly bled into setlists, it stood alone as an anthem that epitomised the free-party spirit; elusive and liberating.

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