Straight Chillin: Hard Kandy

I have to be honest, I'd half expected to go to Hard Kandy and then leave with enough bad memories for a year of therapy. Wasn't this a scene that's had its time? Kind of like the dad that tries to get high with you and your friends when you're fifteen? Give up dude. Throw on a pair of slacks, grab a beer and watch the footy. Your days of playing guitar and going to rock concerts are over. Etc.

So as we rocked up to 170Russell (a venue that neither I nor my photographer (Moody) had been to since we were probably sixteen - hello old friend) our hopes weren't very high. We could see the gators, the rave pants, and the chiselled cheekbones. We were feeling as excited as the emos outside your local maccas look. We strolled down the stairs and quietly prayed that the hours would pass quickly before we could go get fucked up somewhere else. But then the unexpected occured. Bam! We were inside and we were fucking loving it!

The music was hard, the rave pants were flowing and the feet were stomping. Yes it was everything we expected, but it was beautiful. We stood up on the stage like brave explorers and we gazed over a sea of spiked haircuts, nerd glasses and fluro ensembles. We had found The Lost City Of Ravelantis, trapped in time. People from every Melbourne suburb had journeyed here, and we watched the spectacle unfold like some forgotten cultural ritual. An amazing rave circus.

Maybe we were getting high off the MDMA powder in the air, but we couldn't be happier. Everyone seemed so loving, so accepting. No one minded being photographed, or that we wanted to talk to them. Everyone was as cool as a cucumber from your local foodworks. Moods grabbed a beer and we came across our first character for the evening. His name was hard to hear over the soundsystem, but he can only be described as a Techno BFG (big friendly giant), Hard Kandy's version of Technoviking. He was the most polite motherfucker you'll ever meet. A metal dude at heart, but a heart that moved to a hardstyle beat. He, like everyone else, was there for the vibe and a good time.

Moods and I were both itching for a ciggie, so we decided to head out to the 'Birdcage'. Standing in the corner like two people that weren't invited to a party, we both looked around for an opportunity to enter a conversation. A couple sat to our left, both decked out in school uniform, gators and candy. The dude turned to a random girl and said, "I don't know you, but how you going?" He didn't seem to be consciously referencing several decades of identical dialogue in raves everywhere. We snagged a photo and made our way down to the VIP Lounge to interview someone that we could actually hear.

We found ourselves perched next to two dudes on the couches and decided to ask them a few questions. The first one had apparently been raving since 2006. If you factor in the time-distorting effects of pingas though that feels shorter than it is. We asked how raving culture seems to have changed since then. Moody and I had assumed that the vibe was still as loving as ever, but these dudes assured us that "Ice has fucked up raving, and fucked up the world. The young crowd are passive-aggressive and just here to get fucked up." Still it seemed hard to imagine that the vibe could be anymore loving than what it already was. Maybe the memories were better because the pingas were better back then, or something. Our conversation was interrupted by some ping-monster that probably hadn't seen our new partners since "the good old days". We decided to leave.

As we looked back at the stage, knowing this was probably going to be the last time we came to 170Russell for a rave. I was left with the words that ping-monster had dribbled out of a locked jaw: "Rave is dead". Maybe it's an outsider's perspective, but it seemed like it could still be alive at Hard Candy.

You can ask Reuben Where ya from, what ya on and what's ya story? on Twitter. He'll tell you straight.