I was thoroughly disappointed by Shane DuBow’s recent presentation of the rave scene and of Mr. David Prince [“Mud, Drugs, and Speaker Hugs,” June 21]. Being an attendee of the first two Furthurs, I too know firsthand some of the surrealities of this scene called rave. I’ve seen the blow pops held puckered tight by the lips of the young x-ed out faces, and the overwhelming lack of racial diversity among those faces. I know how much it costs to live the life of this type of a partier–it would be nice to be able to afford to drop by Untitled and spend $300 for a weekend rave wardrobe to be as excruciatingly “cool” as others. Moreover, I would most certainly agree that the rave scene is not going to be the type of environment that will save a generation. It’s far too exclusive and, at times, unhealthy for that. But what Mr. DuBow failed to recognize is the beauty of and the need for the rave scene in this time of political and emotional confusion among youth. What David Prince and his associates did and continue to do is fulfill an urgent obligation in response to a desperate cry for community resonating among this Generation X. Furthur is one device to provide an environment where some semblance of community does exist–where people can have fun and be free, and where, at some raves, people can get out of the city and feel what it’s like to sleep underneath the stars and renew a relationship with nature. Furthur also happens to be where some of the most beautiful music I have ever heard has been created. (If Mr. DuBow had taken the time to listen to more of it, he might have heard the complexities of the music and not simply 200-plus beats per minute.)
