Contents
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Title Page
Epigraph
Introduction
A Hitchhiker’s Guide to Dance Party Organisations
Bless their cottons
Warning
Profound Joy
A New Beginning
Genesis Chapter One
Genesis Chapter Two: The Struggle Continues
Getting Sorted
Genesis Sunset Chapter Three: The Future is Now
Genesis Sunset: Against All Odds
Genesis Sunset: Hedonism
Genesis 1989: Chapter of Chapters
Kidnapped!
Genesis 1989: From Strength to Strength
Hard Times
Westway Blues
Genesis 1989: The Promised Land
Gang Wars
Genesis 1989: In House We Trust
Genesis 1989: Only Love Conquers Hate
Security Takeover
Genesis 1989: The Empire Strikes Back
Genesis 1989: Live and Let Live
Genesis Biology: Future Power People New Year’s Eve 1989
Freedom to Party
Genesis 1990 and Fantasy FM Radio: The Warehouse Experience
Pills and Bullshit
Dance with the Devil
The Dungeons 1989
Energy
Clapham Common
Dance ’89
Energy – Docklands Arena
Biology
Sunrise 1989
Establishment Reactions
Demolition Men
The New Laws
Bullshitters
Blaggers
Recorded Phone-Line Messages
Pirate Radio
Acid House Goes Orbital
Chemical Reactions
First Trip
Enigma
Diminished Responsibility
A Thatched Nightmare
Skid Marks
Comebacks and Conclusions
Genesis Reunion 1992
Conclusions
Epilogue
Appendix
Copyright
About the Book
As the wave of MDMA and illegal raves swept through Britain during the Summer of Love, Wayne Anthony took on the task of organising the biggest parties the UK has ever seen. Finding himself wanted simultaneously by the police and underworld gangsters, his blagging skills became legendary.
This is his story, and it’s all true.
If you were there, this is your story too.
About the Author
In 1987, Wayne Anthony and two friends established the legendary Genesis raves that were attended by the wide-eyed, loved-up youth of the late Eighties and early Nineties. Wayne and the Genesis team took Acid House to the masses and changed the face of British rave culture. Wayne then promoted a series of events around Europe, released a series of infamous compilation albums under the banner ‘Havin’ It’. Since then Wayne has been involved in Internet start-ups and tech companies. He spent the last ten years at the helm of LSD Magazine, one of Europe’s biggest street art graffiti networks. He is currently in the process of launching the world’s first dedicated street art graffiti channel from Los Angeles.
‘I see, said the blind man, without any eyes’
Bernice Orenthia Rookwood
July 4 1911–February 25 1997
Introduction
I have no idea how many times in the last 30 years someone has said to me, ‘l wish I had a time machine.’ They could choose any period in history, but no, it’s back to the glory days of Acid House.
A whole generation of people – my generation – have grown old, gracefully or disgracefully, shaped by the life-changing experiences we enjoyed together between 1987 and 1990. When I look into a mirror now, the laughter lines tell their own story but, if I am honest, Acid House still feels like yesterday.
I still see the world the same way as I did three decades ago – minus, of course, the MDMA, flashing lights and packed warehouses! If somebody had told me when I took my first yellow pill that I would go on to stage some of the biggest illegal parties in the country, I would never have believed them. I had never arranged so much as a birthday party before the first Genesis in ’88.
When I first sat down to write Class of 88 in 1996, I had no idea whether it would ever see the light of day. In all honesty, I wasn’t even sure I was up to the task. My English is average at best, and I had never written more than four or five pages in my life. Yet as soon as I put pen to paper, it all made sense.
When I think back to Genesis ’88, I feel a great sense of pride. We pushed our boundaries way beyond what we thought they were. There were so many high points. Standing among thousands of people after a magical mystery tour around the South East’s motorway system. Climbing fences, running over railway tracks and rowing boats across canals to reach the secret party locations. Counting large black bags of cash in a back room of a dirty warehouse had its moments as well.
We were tearing down emotional barriers and building new bridges. House music was the catalyst and MDMA the accelerator.
Acid House is 30 years old now – far older than me and my partners, Keith Brooks and Andrew Pritchard, were when we started our adventure in ’87. We were just 22: three lads from Hackney. Our manor was going through hard times, and to be honest, a lot of people we knew were used to nicking stuff out of warehouses, not taking equipment in!
Yet there we were, the three of us, bolt-croppers in our hands, breaking open doors, embracing the future. If the police turned up when the party was on – and they usually did – I’d pretend to be George Michael’s manager, or from EMI or Channel 4. It was too exciting to worry or feel frightened.
The fear came later. Our efforts got noticed by the kind of organised criminal gangs who usually rob Post Offices or banks at gunpoint. They read in the media that we could earn half a million quid in one night – but in truth, we were just kids, off our heads on love drugs, holding hands and cuddling each other.
When the gangsters showed up, I found myself strapped to a chair with a hood over my head, cold shotgun barrels against my temple. Organised criminals and Yardie gangs made hay in our lawless, loved-up zones. When three gun-toting Yardies came to rob one of our parties in North London in ’89, it was like a scene from Reservoir Dogs.
Of course, ravers had no idea that behind the scenes, party promoters were being robbed, kidnapped or worse. Why would they know? The double life got so stressful that I often found solace in Class A drugs. It helped to blur the lines.
Yet the grief was worth it. The most uplifting part of the entire journey was the togetherness of strangers and seeing people coming together and opening their hearts up to love. It might sound corny, but this is my personal experience. It’s the sort of thing that only comes along once in a lifetime, and you never forget it.
I’m proud of the Genesis crew and the fact we worked side by side and broke into warehouses with Sunrise, Energy, Biology and a few others. I’m also incredibly proud of Class of 88. When I see copies of the original book changing hands on the internet, it means a lot. It also means that it is worth bringing it out again so more people can read our crazy story.
At the end of the first book, 20 years ago, I looked back at my (mis)adventures and asked myself: ‘Would I do it all again?’ I answered: ‘No fucking chance!’ Now, I think I spoke too soon. If a time machine could take me back to 1987, I would be on it like a shot.
What is the biggest thing that Acid House and being part of the class of ’88 taught me? When humanity dreams big, we can move mountains.
Wayne Anthony, 2018, still loved up and game …
A Hitchhiker
’s Guide to Dance Party Organisations
Acid House was Made on Earth from the ashes of an Apocalypse Now in a time of Sin, Hedonism and Dance with the Devil. I was standing in The Attic near Curtain Road experiencing The Living Dream. I took the Kaleidoscope from my jet-pack and gazed across the Mutoid Wasteground at Trip City. There she stood in her natural Raw beauty: a Pyramid of Knowledge, a Palace where even Kings and Queens can seek Asylum. An inspiring Loud Noise echoed into the night sky. A Brainstorm took shape. The Project was to travel hundreds of light years away to the period of 2000 AD. The entire human race was High on Hope of recovering the Delirium water decontamination formula. The Future of Planet Westworld depended on the accomplishment of this mission. My journey through the Labyrinth of Dungeons across the Common south of the river was about to be rewarded by seeing the Sunrise for the very first time. With Adrenaline rushing through my veins I immediately felt the Energy and Atmosphere of a New Generation at the peak of an original World Dance. The air force was based on The Doo at the Zoo, where several rocket ships took flight, bound for the Land of Oz. Their Trip was to go Back to the Future and, In Search of Space on a Magical Mystery Tour, seek the key to enlightenment and Humanity. Shoom! A Space shuttle flew over The Rave at the Cave. The Mad professors who were Beyond Therapy stood guard by the stargate to Infinity. They had all the questions but not the answers; the geniuses were banished to the Planet MFI but had somehow escaped. There were people wandering the streets in Shock and suffering Amnesia; they arrived from Pacha and were gathering in the square outside The Mud Club. There is only one tribe that truly knows The Meaning of Life: the We Generation, children of the fifth sun. The Slaughter House of Hypnosis and Confusion was transformed into a Hacienda of complete Bliss and Tranquillity. The Unit 4 in Pasha on Clink Street was reserved for the Fridge; this was the Academy and Center-Force of our Fantasy. The Ratpack was asked to search the Spectrum of Organised Kaos, whilst the Rage of the Heaven altered the Biology state of Boys Own. Their destination was the Loft of the well-known Car Wash in Weekend World, for a midnight data Raid. The Fantastic Ibiza is said to be a richly deserved Wonderland. Before we make that important journey we have to look back and reflect on an era when People Power Run Tings. A time when Eco-Warriors did battle with invading forces and won. RIP negative thoughts and Phantasy as we are transported along life’s super highway into an oasis of Genesis.
Bless their cottons
Mom – even if I wrote 100,000 words about my emotions for you and my family, who have stood by me through thick and thin, I couldn’t do you justice. The same is true of my sisters Teena, Nichola and Bianca, who deserve nothing but the best. My dad Claude (ar me this). My stepdad Colin, nephew Cain and the rest of my family. Ian Gittins and the team at Virgin for publishing this work in spite of current media hyperbole and allowing their first-time author full freedom of expression: you have reinforced my belief that anything is possible. Keith and KP, without whom Genesis may never have existed. DJ Dominic (spread love) and Darren (Soul Café, Tenerife). Cheers for the use of your computer, printer and paper.
Knowledge is power.
RIP: Gurkan, Paul Rowe and Micky Mif.
Warning
My intention in this book isn’t to glamorise drug use but to chronicle a change in people’s attitudes. Life doesn’t revolve around drugs: it revolves around society. I’m not advising anybody to take Ecstasy or any other class-A substance. Users know the dangers. To pop pills is to play Russian roulette with your mind and body. Nowadays, mass-produced tablets contain all kinds of shit. Nobody really knows what they’re taking, and this can result in otherwise healthy people dying of chemically induced illnesses. This story serves as a social record of England in the late Eighties. Before you pass judgement, read on without prejudice.
Wayne Anthony
PART ONE
Profound Joy
A NEW BEGINNING
Remember the days when authors began their novels with ‘Once upon a time’? They were cool dudes, man. They wrote stories of love, passion, fantasy and obsession – but times, people and traditions change. People have to face up to the harsh realities of everyday life, and reality has many faces.
This story is about reality and a drug invented over fifty years ago that has inspired heightened awareness in people and allowed them to free their emotions. I vaguely remember nine or ten years before 1988’s Summer Of Love, back in the days when everybody would be posing and drinking in wine bars and clubs like Browns around London. The musical vibe back then was soul, funk and pop.
In those early Eighties days there might be 500 people in a club but they’d all be in their own separate groups. Nobody ventured out to meet anyone new except for people of the opposite sex. Gangs of youths would go out, giving it loads, drinking loads, then having a tear-up. This was regarded as the norm: we’ll fight them on the beaches, terraces and in the clubs and pubs. Every Saturday, England became a battleground as home-team supporters clashed with visitors. It was a time of discontent, boredom, frustration and no direction.
Nobody thought about change: this was all they knew. Me and my mates used to spend the evenings in 1987 and early ’88 drinking in a pub in Hackney almost every night. My crowd were all proper people: salt of the earth who came from all different backgrounds and knew how to earn a pound note. Blaggers, roofers, hoisters, forgers, growlers and fighters. You name it, they done it; except for muggings, bag snatching, anything to do with kids or abusing women. We were all good mates who looked out for one another.
The music in our local was mainly pop, and guest disco DJs played their own dated sets. It wasn’t a particularly nice pub but the attraction was knowing some of your pals would always be there. Our group was tight and together, but nobody would express any emotion beyond ‘You know I’ll back you up any day, mate.’ You didn’t walk up to your pal and say ‘I love you, bruv’ with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You’d soon be knocked on the deck, with no mates.
Most people in London supported Tottenham, Arsenal, Chelsea, West Ham, QPR or Millwall. Violence was the only way of letting frustrations rip. Our crew were into money so we knocked football fights on the head. There was north, south, east, and west London against each other as well as battles between northerners and southerners. Fights in pubs and clubs were going off all the time and the part of town you came from was high on the list of reasons to get you a beating if you ever ventured out of your own patch.
The recession was in full bloom and bad attitudes filled the air. In 1988 there were all kinds of insane happenings around the world. Everlasting wars, environmental erosion, starvation, racial tension and extreme prejudice were just a few of the globe’s problems. There was a cultural agenda of hard-headed, selfish values and the borders between different races and cultures were growing ever higher.
Of course, Ecstasy brought about a dramatic change. Thinking back to that first rush and trying to describe it to someone who hasn’t experienced taking E isn’t easy. You’d introduce yourself to everyone who walked past you, with a big smile and arms stretched out wide to give them a hug. They were your brothers and sisters and it didn’t matter how you looked, dressed or danced. Nobody cared: we were all one. Integration accelerated to a new level, a new understanding, a new beginning.
I’d taken my first ever Ecstasy, like a lot of people, in Ibiza in 1987, but in all honesty it must have been a duff tab because it didn’t have much effect on me. I was always much more into charlie, anyway. Then one night in London during the summer of ’88 I was taken to Heaven, a club next to Charing Cross station, and was blown away. Just half a tablet I was given by a friend made me feel euphoric, elated and like a fresh, very alive person, and I was uplifted by the cool vibe and positive energy being given out by everybody in the gaff. This was something new, something special. I knew it could change my life, and I knew I wanted in.
I was still talking about my night at Heaven to my pals down the pub in Hackney a few days later. However, none of them care
d or had any interest in coming with me the following week. They just issued dire warnings about what they’d do to any geezers who ever tried to put their arms around them the way blokes at Heaven had been doing. Even Keith, my oldest mate in the world, wasn’t at all interested in coming with me.
I simply couldn’t wait to go back to Heaven and I started telephoning other pals to see if they’d heard of this fantastic club. I was in luck. Some local friends of mine went out almost every night and told me to meet up with them on Friday and go to Camden Palace in north London. I became very excited at the prospect of taking a proper, whole E.
Friday night came: Party Time! I met up with a few lads I knew well including Gary, Michael, Owen and Gurkan, who are a couple of years younger than me but totally up for it. These boys had been going out since day one so they knew all the ropes. We dropped a pill fifteen minutes before getting in the motor and making our way to Camden. The track ‘Break for Love’ was playing at maximum volume and we started singing: ‘I’ll be there in the morning, baby, to hold you tight, and that’s why, baby, you don’t have to wonder why, why I love you. Break, break for love!’
I felt the E coming on and my heart was beating faster and my whole body felt lighter. By the time we reached the Palace we were all buzzing: wheeeeeeeyyyyyyy! What a feeling! There was a major queue around the building, which reached into the street behind, but we headed for the front and joined the queue near the main entrance. As long as the doorman didn’t see you nobody really complained; it was such a long queue that people didn’t mind if you politely pushed in.
Ten minutes later and, after a class-A search, we were in the club. We walked along a corridor and ended up on a balcony, overlooking the packed dance floor and a raised theatre stage. Behind us were several tiered floors, with tables and chairs, which went right up to the top of the building. We went down a staircase that ran down the middle of the balcony to the ground floor. There was also a bar that ran the length of the back wall.
Class of '88 Page 1
