“Giving Them Drugs, Taking Their Lives Away?” - I Choose To Tell My Child I Took Drugs
Credit Matthew Smith. http://www.mattkoarchive.com/ Mother Free festival, Steart Beach, 1995.
If you know where the line ‘Giving Them Drugs, Taking Their Lives Away’ is from then we were probably inhabiting the same places in the 90’s - dirty dance floors and makeshift spaces set up for temporary parties.
I started out partying in around ‘93, just a year after I moved to Bristol. I met a bunch of ravers who made it all look so magical and grown up, irresponsible and fun. I partied for a year before the desire to experiment piped up.
I was at Ashton Court Festival in Bristol, the dance tent, my friend asked me if I wanted some and I said yes - hesitantly. And so began my first time with Ecstasy. And let me tell you... IT WAS AWFUL!!! But luckily not the defining experience for me. That first time it was all too much, too soon, and with Jungle taking over the previous more gentle tunes as I was coming up like a motherflipper...I did in fact flip! I spent most of the *trip* sitting by my friends pink burger van with various friends and strangers checking in on me to make sure I was ok.
I felt the panic, the fear, THE HEAT! I went into the woodland and found some cool solace and fewer people and managed to calm down. I remembered a thing on the telly as a teenager called Operation Julie. It was based on a real life police operation to take down a massive LSD ring in rural Wales. That image of a young girl, high as a kite, naked in the field, covered in mud, delirious and out of it...that struck me deeply. I didn’t want to get out of control and strip off and become crazed! Thankfully for everyone, that didn’t happen.
Credit Matthew Smith. Mutant Dance, Ashton Court Festival 1995. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B589nZlufyI&t=74s
I’d had a few moments before this, a tiny dib dab of speed when I was about 18, a small handful of mushrooms during the last 20 minutes of a Hawkwind gig at Reading Uni and then a hellish car ride back home while I was tripping. I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory for my first acid trip either. I think my brain isn’t best set up for hallucinogens! My imagination is vivid enough.
I choose to consider my second go with E my first experience, because it was bloody beautiful. Everything you’ve ever heard about Ecstasy is probably true. Euphoric, happy, loving feelings. The rush, both emotional and physical. The need to dance, laugh, touch and climb right inside the music. I was supported and safe, the source was known, the outlines of what I might expect were given, I was held safely through that night and many nights to follow. I had the most incredible time.
It was the first of a handful of legendary Feeder Road warehouse parties under the new flyover in Bristol. As the feelings started to swell, so did the music and the crowd; more and more people streaming into the cavernous space. I could feel the flutters, bumps and tingles start and I was a bit worried, but my friends looked after me carefully and let me drift into one of the most beautiful nights of my life. Bristol Party People...it really was something! As the tungsten light started to hurt our eyes and we all drifted into daytime, the landing was not far off and I crashed with a bump. But it was still ok...we all took care of each other.
I realised I’d seen this before on a short weekend trip to Brighton around 1991. We were walking about looking for a party and we followed the beat, walked through enormous doors into a space filled with fluro lights and miles of white sheeting hanging from the rafters. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WI42hQHfbi8)
Everybody’s Free by Rozalla was playing and I really wanted to stay, I felt the pull, but the crowd I was with wanted to leave, so of course I followed. We considered that song very cheesy at the time. I didn’t know what it was but once I started raving in Bristol I recognised it. I felt like I was lucky to have stumbled into it again and I held on tight for the next 4 or so years.
The getting ready to go out was a big part of it all. We’d pile round someone’s place or into the pub and start our revelling early while we waited to find out where the party was, or for the club to open. I’d slightly missed the boat the first time, but I had a full ticket to ride the next one.
Over the next few years I had a great many experiences with parties and drugs and I know, compared to many, I was a *lightweight*. I was glad of it. We all saw friends get taken down, taken out, some made it back, some never did. We saw the descent into hell, harder drugs, a life of ruin and horror. A handful of people would start to use crack and heroin. Some of them would support their habits with sex work. Not the safe kind, not the chosen kind, but the dirty and dangerous kind. A few would find themselves not being able to get through the day without a bit of something in their morning coffee or a bump at lunchtime. Some would be using drugs alone at home. We all certainly had our moments but most of us managed to keep afloat. Not everyone was lucky, some had a predisposition and slipped into abusive use. Some were drawn to the party scene because it was a place you could easily hide your problems. We were all too busy having fun to notice everyone who was falling.
I knew I would never get to that somehow. It wasn’t because I was strong and not vulnerable to it, it’s because I was scared. Maybe Operation Julie saved my life, who knows. Maybe it’s because I’m not an addict. In fact I’d put money on that. Addiction isn’t about the substance is it…At school they tell you *drugs are bad* and *drugs will kill you* Remember Zammo? JUST SAY NO KIDS! And while there is truth in that, it was the fear they hoped would save us. Same with sex.
It didn’t stop us. When we found out for ourselves and realised they’d been lying to us we felt cheated and didn’t trust authority. There will always be caveats but mostly it WAS fun. I had some super sketchy times with the come downs of course, and a few hairy moments on the up. It wasn’t just a bit of MDMA...it was always a cocktail of pills and powders, booze and spliffs. Always searching for that magic mountain! There were definitely a few *dodgy pills* in there. We’d go all night and half into the next day dancing, snorting, laughing, spinning and talking.
There was a rhythm in the way we lived. Regular events meant we had a sort of clumsy timetable. With Shimmy every other Wednesday, we’d often start really early with our hedonistic plans. Sometimes we’d party every night from Wednesday to Saturday, and by Sunday we’d be so broken. We’d nurse pints of cider and try not to fall off the cliff. We found ways to make it better and we’d rarely do it alone. We looked after each other going in and coming out again. But we were messy, so messy.
A lot of things happened during my party years, wonderful things, mad things, friendships made for a lifetime. For the first time ever I learned to love myself. Ok, I had a little help, but it stuck, mostly! I trusted in the connections I made. We had purpose. It spilled out into other areas...we’d go to demos and fight for our right to party. That lives on in us all I think. It was very punk, the DIY ethic, the drive to protect our way of life and our spaces.
So - what am I saying? That drugs are mostly fun? Well, that’s not strictly true is it.
I’ve seen the damage it does. I’ve felt the pain, the ache, the agitation of a bad come down. I’ve experienced the poor mental health hangover from my party days. I’ve lost friends. The truth is...it’s complicated, like most relationships. If you make it out alive then a lot of that’s down to luck. There were some major fall outs. Paranoia, behind the back bitching, stories spread, lies told, trusts broken. A small number of my party friends died from drug overdoses or suicide.
The really hard stuff wasn't a party pal, it only sought to take from you. Very poor health soon followed and relationships would break down irrevocably. There was nowhere else for some to go, no family, all lines of communication were down. Despite efforts made, some just fell right away from us and we couldn’t save them.
Credit Matthew Smith http://www.mattkoarchive.com/ Feeder Road warehouse party 1995. I was in that crowd somewhere.
During the spring of ‘97 I found I was slowing down. It was losing its shine, the sparkle was getting more and more elusive. I was in fact a bit bored of it all. I checked in with myself and my behaviour, recognising that I wasn’t able to relax or enjoy a party until I knew I had my quota of potions in my pocket. I was always after that elusive magic of the first time (or second, see above) but you never have that again, not ever. I’d also had a few bad trips and some truly existential come downs. My whole life had been about partying for ages, I didn’t have a proper job in all that time, I worked at a pub for a couple of years which was great fun, but I was largely on the dole and living on tick! It was starting to fall apart, the gloss was chipped, the lights were going out. I’d had my peak times, the party was kind of over! I wasn’t quite ready to leave yet though...
My raving days came to a somewhat abrupt end in the middle of ‘97 when I discovered I was pregnant. My boyfriend and I were pretty surprised even though we’d taken little care. I was in love, it felt right, and once we got over the shock and decided which direction to go in, we became a family.
I was worried about the potential damage I’d done during the first 8 weeks when I didn’t know I was pregnant and was still partaking in pills and spills. We were lucky, we had a healthy baby. That baby is 6”3 and 21 years old now and he’s done a little experimenting of his own. He has (I suppose) been as honest with me as I was (ahem, highlights only) with my Mum. His stint was very short lived but he asked me questions, for advice, and I readily gave it.
I told him about some of my experiences. I warned him to steer clear of the legal highs. He was surprised until I explained why. They would keep changing the formula to keep ahead of the law so you never knew what you were getting. I made sure he knew the code...I needn’t have, he and his friends already knew. Never leave anyone behind, look after each other, find a reputable source if you can, don’t take it all at once, and if you fall...call someone you trust.
I was terrified at times, but I feel it’s important not to be a hypocrite. One has to be transparent, clear, honest and careful with the information you share with your kids or other young people. I was trying not to showboat, or shrug it off as some mad adventure. It was an important and informative part of my 20’s. He may yet return to it at some point, I hope he can continue to be honest with me. He knows a lot about my history. Remembering how the way they taught us in school was so misleading and dangerous...I decided to tell him the truth. The truth is...it WAS fun for most of it. But remember, at all times, what goes up must come down.
Written by Vonalina Cake
With thanks to Matthew Smith for allowing me to pepper my ramblings with his amazing photos. His archive is quite something. See more here and in the links under the photos - https://www.facebook.com/existtoresistuk/