Sound that resounds, rebounds; sound that abounds in space and underground; sounds of life and sounding rods that drive deep into the bones of society. Sounds pulses, sound drives. Sound crashes and cries. Sound struts and sound swaggers, sound crawls in the gutter and begs for change.
Sound is the energy that can touch you. That can strike you down. That can reach into your ear, push through your eyes and rattle your teeth.
Sound is power. Sound is raw and brutal. Sound is gentle. All at once, sound is loud and soft, harsh and smooth. Sound is schroedinger's nightmare; impossible to tell if there is no sound or just equal sound rotated through 180 degrees until destructive interference creates a mean wave pattern of nil... Psytrance is sound. Hypnotic, colourful. it gets you locked in loops, trapped in beats. You dance, because it's the natural thing to do. right? Wrong. Wright? Babbage, actually.
Psytrance is sound for the masses. Sound for parties and doofs and clubs and raves because there you get a cluster of hive minds, malleable minds, minds all thinking the same thing, to greater or lesser extent - let's have fun. Let's get fucked up. Let's [i]dance![/i]
Throw into the mix the knowledge that most of the people there will be from relatively similar backrounds or at least social demographics - They were raised similarly, at least macroscopically. Obviously there will be grave individual variations, but on the whole they have quite close morals and value systems... Most of them, at least.
Then you take all these like-minded people with similar neurochemistry and similar wishes and wants and similar thoughts and desires and you put them all on the same drug - Or at least, most of them. They'll all be on various different things, but it's a safe bet that the majority will all have one thing in common, substance wise - MDMA. Which is cool, because MDMA, as opposed to say, coke (which is what we were all taking back in the disco days) is particularly good for building the hive mind - Love thy neighbour, empath. PLUR up in hurr, and all that.
So we have all these people - They want the same thing. They think the same thing. They take the same thing. They do the same thing.
We need to take advantage of this. Skew the pills, add a little modinafil, piracetam and sodium pentothal to the mixture. And then weave subliminal messages into the music. Generate nega-waves and broadcast subsonic frequencies. We won't have precise instructions, but we can control their emotions. The DJ, lord puppetmaster, keeps the crowd on the strings. Then, once we're sure everyone's pretty much at the peak of their roll, we start pounding fear. Sound the alarms. Shift gears, and turn the vibes nasty.
Then we alert the police to the rave's existence and watch the riot unfold. A thousand able-bodied, amphetamine fuelled soldiers acting as one. The hive versus the great spider of government. They want a war on drugs - We will show them a [i]war[/i].
Grow soldiers and with them, burn the world.