genz – devizine.com

Suh Gen Z? U might think U is well dank two-footing pensioner’s doors for TikTok followers, n U might think U snatched the kiki, vibing n vaping through a Taylor Swift concert, polishing off a whole bag of Haribo, U total ledge. But I have wig for U about your so-called “boomer” parents; your slang is wonky at best, mate, they ain’t boomers at all, they’re more likely the wicked, jilted generation X, and it might just be fact that in a time of yore, before you were a twinkle in your daddy’s dilated pupils, they secretly partied harder, faster and longer in an hour than you will ever hope to achieve throughout your entire life…..

Big yikes, tho, don’t get salty, I’m not out to diss U, so don’t ghost me, I’m here to give you the tea on how to find out if your parents were what we deemed in the nineties as “ravers.”

Now, U might assume you know what this entails, but I can assure you, soz, but you have absolutely no clue at all. To rave in the nineties wasn’t clubbing in soft play centres covered in neon glow sticks and daring to drink six Primes, like it might be today. Raving back then was mostly illegal, multitudes gathering in fields and disused warehouses across the UK, all of which wouldn’t pass modern health and safety regulations; but this is only the tip of the iceberg, the rest will knock you the fuck out like you is Chris Rock at the Grammys, and these facts are Will Smith.

Yep, they might be dictating and demanding now, stamping their control over you, preaching right from wrong, and bigging up their own behaviour by comparison, but I ask, how well do you really know them, what secrets might they be hiding about their own misspent youth? Were your parents party to this outrageous trend? Did they gyrate like broken robots with eyes the size of saucers, masticating the shit out of a Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit?

Here are some tell-tale signs to help you discover if, in some long-forgotten past, your parents made some fucking noise, and if they secretly, knew the score (you may need to Google these archaic expressions):

1: Ask Your Grandparents

Grandparents might hold several clues but may not think it wise to let you in on them. Try asking them about what time your parents would get home after going out on a Friday evening. If they answer “usually around 1 or 2am,” you are off the hook. If they answer “sometime on Tuesday evening, and then they slept until Thursday,” then it’s a reason for suspicion.

If fortunate enough your grandparents still live in the same house as they did when your parent in question was young, go to their former bedroom and carefully peel back the wallpaper. Should you discover hundreds of blue smears, that will be blu-tac remains, and it’s very possible they adorned their walls with a thing called “flyers.” These were basically adverts for forthcoming raves. It was the carbon footprint fire insurance write-off done thing at the time, though collecting flyers doesn’t constitute they actually attended raves, it could’ve been a bluff to look cool and gain a shag, but it’s a good starting clue. Take some wallpaper paste to avoid detection.

2: Check for Jawbone Structure and Oral Hygiene

If you think it likely your grandparents would’ve taught good oral hygiene, yet your dad’s teeth looks like someone threw a grenade into Wookey Hole, chances are he was gurning his face off in a field somewhere, long before you were an itch in his “baggies,” and this is the aftermath.

Remember, don’t ask why, but the jawbone structure of Johnny Bravo and the teeth of Gollum is your gateway to enlightenment on the issue; I think it best you follow further instructions as your Dad sounds like the kind of right cheesy quaver who were dubbed “the white glove” brigade. Again, it was a thing at the time.

3: Blowdry your Hair and other Audio Clues

More simply, blowdry your hair. If they start dancing to the sound of the hairdryer it’s time to prepare for the worst; it sounds like they were officially on a “pukka one,” at more than one point in their life.

Attend a football match or other sporting event, should the referee’s whistle evoke blissful memories and your parents respond thus: “whistle posse!” you should be concerned.

4: Shout Outs

Shout out “I’ll take your brain to another dimension,” from the top of the stairs, and repeat three times. If they reply, “what the devil are you on about now, foolish child?” then you’re back in the safe zone. If, however, in a glorious screech of reminiscence they respond, “pay close attention!” Then it’s a pretty safe bet I’m afraid.

Alternatively, you could try the rave mantra, “top one, nice one,” and they should respond with “get sorted!” If that doesn’t trigger them nothing is likely to, and you can be safe in the knowledge they probably listened to boy bands in the nineties, the sad acts.

5: Search for Photographic Evidence and Pop Music Knowledge

Time for some research. You should note your parents are not of your generation who feel the need to photographically document every second of their lives on social media. In fact, pulling out a camera at a rave would be seriously frowned upon, so a decade gap of photographs in the fam’s archive of your parents might hold a clue. If all you find are the odd snap of a family occasion, where your parent can be seen snoozing on a sun-lounger in the background with a grin like the Cheshire Cat, or a photograph of them standing next to their XR3i or 3.0 Capri turbo, you should be wary.

Give your parents a pop quiz starting off with chart hits of the eighties, then the nineties. If they come up all chicken dinner with the eighties questions but fail like Joey Essex on Mastermind on the nineties ones, it’s because ravers forgot all about pop hits and chart positions when they first reached for the skies and got mullered at a rave party, fact.

6: Suspicious Purchases

If your mum neglects to buy you the bitesize GCSE maths book you’ve been asking for, but instead gets you a pair of Technics and a mixer, something is definitely amiss, and there’s a likelihood they want you to be the life and soul to a hopeful resurrection of the trend. Say “no, I’m not Carl Cox, I only want to pass my exams.”

7: The Obvious Final Exam

Only attempt this if your parents have scored high in all the above tests, and never, I repeat never question why; there are some skeletons in closets you really don’t want to uncover. For this final exam you will need a packet of M&Ms, favourably of the plain old chocolate variety. Take the sweets out of their packet, place them in a money bag and offer one to your old folks. The correct response from the average parent should be something along the lines of, “oh, no thank you, it’s very kind, but you eat them my love.”

However, should your mum or dad respond with a sniff, and a “na, sorted mate!” it’s pretty much concrete that your parents have had equal if not more ”rave accessories” than Bez of the Happy Mondays, (Google him and prepare yo bad self.)

The bottom line is to never worry too much about it, okay so your parents were hardcore, but you do not need counselling, it’s not biggie, really; just ensure they are comfortable and never throw out any of these things pictured below. They are called cassette tapes, and they might be the only fragments left of a long-forgotten youth culture very sentimental to them. You should note, the times were vastly different from today, we had an economic recession and were dictated to with an iron fist, by the last desperate attempts of a failing conservative government, but at least we didn’t have Ed Sheeran. You cannot judge your parents by the order of things today, this is not Minority bloody Report.

Images by Gail Foster

I could’ve guaranteed myself a great night with peers and those purveyors of space rock, Cracked Machine down the trusty Gate, or danced socks off with twenty/thirty-somethings at the Three Crowns to the unique take on covers of the ever-entertaining People Like Us. But, oddly if not in the know, I opted for a Saturday night at West Lavington village hall, nodding my approval as frontman Elijah Easton mingled with a gen z frenzied crowd singing back to him their beguiling magnum opus, to-date, Manipulation, for an encore the fans will forever cherish…..

For if it’s Devizine’s intention to highlight all that’s great about our music scene, it’s surely a priority to point out what’s upcoming, and Nothing Rhymes With Orange are the freshest squeezed fruit on that tree right now. I’ve been singing their praises since reviewing their EP Midsummer, unseasonably released last November, and now I can tick catching them live off my must-do-list I’m only going to enforce my words on how astoundingly awesome these youngsters are.

With blow-up orange segments bouncing between them on stage and their enthused blossoming fanbase, I figure I’m witness to a burgeoning local phenomenon akin to the roots of any mainstream band, left pondering the pensioners once screaming teenagers at Liverpool’s Cavern Club, when Beatlemania was imminent. If you consider that’s a tall order for comparison, I’d shrug, but while NRWO can clearly rouse the crowd, it feels like the building hysteria is a newfound blessing for them and they’re unsure how to react. This is a wonderful inaugural experience for a blossoming band, exposing them to reactions to the hard work they’ve clearly put in, and digesting those streams are from real kids, appreciating their sound.

For the fanbase so young in our rural zone, it’s not so simple just to rock up to venues, particularly pubs, and if the village hall is kinda “village hall like,” it’s because it is, but it’s an adequate space with a hospitable outlook. The band and their families have self-organised this sell-out gig with the intention of making this a homecoming atmosphere for a local band venturing to Bristol, Bath and Trowbridge’s Pump, and who will undoubtedly take that road a lot further in the near future.

For the time being, they are here and they are now. If seeing Springsteen in the eighties was an amazing experience, seeing Springsteen play New Jersey was another ballpark, ergo in this case, Lavington is those Badlands.

The sound is frenzied indie-pop, but not all-out ferociously punk, they find the perfect middle-ground; easy on the palate for any age demographic. Precisely why they’re subject to my highest acclaim, homing in on what the kids want, is, historically, the recipe for success. They did this with bells on, belting out their known EP tracks, a couple of defined Arctic Monkeys covers, their latest release Lidl Shoes, and treated the crowd to a sneak at the forthcoming two singles.

But not before a triple bill of support they’re introducing to home fans. First up Dauntsys own Paradigm, who, though I only caught the final couple I’d suggest are a promisingly tight young band to watch out for.

Secondly Frankcastre from Portsmouth with a frontman originating locally, even penning a song named after Great Cheverall, which has to be a first! Perhaps as oddly as their name, to generation X a band attired in Fred Perrys and skinheads might connote mod influences, but the confident frontman was looking decidedly teddy-boy!

Trivial is the significance of the uniforms of youth cultures of yore to this era, their originals came fiery and skater-punk; they refined the contemporary noise with brewing confidence and it was welcomed by the NRWO fanbase, particularly the girls. Two covers either side of their set though revealed a penchant for sixties blues-rock, covering firstly The Doors’ Break on Through, and The Animals’ version of House of the Rising Sun, with gritty vocals and devine accuracy. Something for the parents to acknowledge, perhaps, though the frontman delighted to elucidate his fondness for the era to me and I had nothing but to accept his knowledge on the subject. Their sudden usage of a keyboard, for example, to replicate The Animals classic was different, tilting it to one side while playing was beyond Jerry Lee Lewis; put him in your Google search bar!

Arguably the more accomplished of the two, Bath’s StoneFace produced lengthier original compositions, evoking mood with pitch and tempo alterations. With an air of neo-emo Stooges, interestingly with saxophone, damn they looked the part of Iggy Pop to envy!

Though sounding as good as they looked, this volatile style didn’t seem to wash down quite as well with the teenagers as Frankcastre, who, like punk, seem to favour the frenzied three-minute hero, though I personally fished with their hook. Introducing a new track Blue for You, and a particularly adroit one called Cave, the downtempo was plodding indie of perhaps a previous generation, but they did it exceptionally.

To conclude, those in local media sensationalising a minority of hooliganism for click-bait would’ve had their tails between their legs if they’d bother to attend this last night, for all I saw was the new generation, clean-cut by comparison of formers, thoroughly enjoying themselves and causing no issues in the slightest. Just in awe of four of their own, who’ve worked tirelessly to perfect a cooperative brand and inspire others. The forthcoming single Rishi speaks volumes for a current tongue-in-cheek satire they’re intelligent self-penned anthems extend to, though for the most part politics are avoided in favour of topics relative to gen z, like romantic interludes breaking down, and for this Nothing Rhymes With Orange prove their diversity.

It was an astounding achievement, bringing some class acts to Lavington’s youth, and onwards for NRWO I’m pleased to say in collaboration with DOCA, Devizine is proud to now annually suggest a best upcoming local act to feature on the main stage at the Devizes Street Festival, and you can bet your bottom dollar they are the chosen ones to get that ball rolling on Sunday 28th May.

You can also catch them next Saturday, 29th, at the Pump in Trowbridge, Bath’s Party in the City at St James’ Vaults on 12th May, at Corsham Rugby Club’s CorrFest on Sunday 17th June, The Barge on Honey-Street on Saturday 1st July, Marlborough Festival July 8th, and Urchfont’s Boundary Bash on the 15th July…. The future is bright, and doesn’t rhyme with orange!