DISCOVERING THE UNDER

Discovering the Underground a look into the European Teknival scene Arianne Zajac

European culture is something that is often thought of in relation to high and lofty values or messages peddled by the European Union to foster unity and cooperation across member states. Images of art galleries, inventors, and great discoverers all come to mind, but it can be forgotten that European culture emerges in many different guises. Trends within European culture cross borders and can feel like common knowledge to so many people, yet still fall under the radar for most. Teknivals are a unique aspect of European culture and a prime example of a cross-national underground. What are Teknivals? Not too dissimilar to a festival, they are large free parties in which anyone can participate; people can bring sound systems, play there as DJs, or simply just come to party. Teknivals can be found across the continent and are enjoyed by many, with each country forging their unique essence of what one is. Whether a teknival is illegal or not highly depends on a country’s laws, histories, and experiences but often there is not much which can prevent them from happening. Teknival is the combination of the words ‘tekno’ and ‘festival’ and characterising these events is Tekno itself; a fast, repetitive, and exciting music genre. Tekno has developed alongside the teknival movement which began in the early 90s and continues till today. Where are Teknivals Held? Teknivals have a rich history across many European countries, such as in Spain and Italy, but some of the most notable are in the United Kingdom, France, and the Czech Republic. The beginnings of the teknival scene began in the United Kingdom. The movement grew out of the acid house raves of the late 80s, the travelling community, punk, and reggae sound system culture and ultimately morphed into its own subculture. As certain communities, such as the UK traveller community, became a target of political repression, these large parties became increasingly under fire from the police. The ‘legendary’ Castle Morton rave has been etched into history as the trigger for the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act. The gathering lasted a full week with 20,000-40,000 people attending. It made the national news and was ultimately debated in Parliament. The Criminal Justice Act made such outdoor parties illegal and has been criticised by many as draconian legislation. Since then, teknivals in the UK have been limited, in comparison to their European counterparts, however UK Tek has managed to carry on despite police repression.

“The movement grew out of the acid house raves of the late 80s, the travelling community, punk, and reggae sound system culture and ultimately morphed into its own subculture.”

“Teknivals can be found across the continent and are enjoyed by many, with each country forging their unique essence of what one is.”

The French are often credited with truly forging teknivals into what they are with Frenchtek, also known as le teknival. Frenchtek has grown substantially over the past two decades with more than 100,000 people attending during peak years. The culture of political resistance that was inherent in the original forming of teknivals has not been lost during their development in Europe. Tekno Collectives in France often participate in protests and strikes and strongly oppose police brutality and repression. Currently, many French Tekno Collectives and their sound systems are protesting aspects of ‘lockdown’ which are perceived to be infringing on civil liberties.

The Czech teknival scene is somewhat unique as teknivals can exist within the realms of legality. The first-ever ‘Czechtek’ was held in 1994 and snowballed in size and popularity until 2005. In 2005, when the teknival began, riot police quickly arrived. There was severe repression and police brutality during the event.

“Political struggle — the essence of the Teknival scene remains to this day.”

In the aftermath, widespread property damage to cars and electronic equipment became evident, while many attendees were severely injured during the clashes. The result has been that teknivals in the Czech Republic have been permitted and party-goers work alongside authorities to be able to throw parties safely. While Czechtek, as it was in the mid-2000s, no longer takes place, the country has seen a flourishing teknival scene develop due to its unique position within the law.

Who are Involved? Spiral Tribe (also known as SP23) are a musical and arts collective and a free party sound system. They are notorious for their involvement in organising parties, festivals, and raves in the UK and Europe during the 1990s. They have been involved in Castle Morton, thrown parties across France and Europe, as well as being involved in the first Czech Teknival. Spiral Tribe can be accredited with being a founding sound system of the European teknival scene. Another notable sound system of significance is Desert Storm Soundsystem. Headed by Keith Robinson, the collective threw parties throughout the UK in the 1990s and became incorporated into the European teknival movement. Political resistance has been at the heart of Desert Storm Soundsystem since its conception; often hosting music at the front of demonstrations or partying under banners criticising government actions. Remarkably, Desert Storm even took a sound system and brought raves to war-torn Bosnia. Reportedly, they were so close to the frontline, at one point they were asked to turn their lights off as to not attract enemy fire.

“Currently, many French Tekno Collectives and their sound systems are protesting aspects of ‘lockdown’ which are perceived to be infringing on civil liberties.:”

What Now? In light of the pandemic, most free parties and teknivals have come to a halt. Political struggle — the essence of the Teknival scene — remains to this day. In many cases, it has been argued that the dire situation the music and event scene has been left in, with lack of political and financial support throughout the pandemic, is simply a green-light for more of these (often illegal) events to take place. Especially as young people look towards different avenues for crucial life experiences they are missing out on. There is no clear view ahead and many European governments are facing public unrest in light of the pandemic, while other governments, such as the UK, are increasing police powers. Perhaps, a breeding ground is developing in which we will see the re-emergence of an alternative, resistant, underground culture.

A guide on how to watch our beloved Song Contest Sterre Schrijver

In this issue, we are celebrating European culture. Now with this notion, many might think of Europe’s exquisite palaces, its age-old paintings, or possibly the timeless traditional music coming all the way from the shores of Portugal to the Carpathian Mountains of Romania’s Transylvania (if any Hungarians are reading this, please do not feel triggered). However, the first and foremost thing that came to my mind when we started on this topic was the Eurovision Song Contest – and no, I am not ashamed of that at all.

Whenever someone asks me what exactly that thing called Eurovision is, I have always encountered great problems in giving a sufficient answer. In fact, there is no proper way of describing the rollercoaster of emotions you experience when watching the show, which takes place every May in the country of the winning participant of the previous edition. After hours of self-debating, I came to the conclusion that people just have to watch it, go with it, and embrace it. Most importantly, whenever you notice yourself wondering why on earth there is a piano on fire, a half-naked man running in a human-sized rat wheel, a French-singing turkey from Ireland, or 90-year-old babushkas baking cookies on stage (and this is just ten percent of the examples I could possibly come up with), you just got to remember the famous words of Britain’s commentator Graham Norton: “why? Because it’s Eurovision.” So, whenever someone asks you for the tenth time why Australia participates in a European music festival, this answer should suffice.

Still, many people uphold the idea that an entry should be, among others, well-sung, lyrically meaningful, and preferably radio-friendly. My own country, the Netherlands, is specifically guilty of that; the “oh he’s got a really good voice”, “the lyrics are very poetic”, “the guitar-solo is well-played” type of judgements. I am sorry to disappoint you, but the average Eurovision fan does not care about such things. They want something unique, something catchy, something fun, something inspiring, just something that is well…something. How come that the year after a Portuguese jazz and bossa nova singer, an Israeli woman wins that sings in a chicken-style manner about her Pikachu? Why’s that? Well, because it’s Eurovision.

So, dear reader, I’d thoroughly advise you not to eschew away from watching this grand spectacle where all European cultures come together in a unique way – through music. Watching it has always felt like embarking upon an alternative universe where each and every European is incredibly happy and excited about everything and where everyone feels great love for one another, though not said directly but rather through the famous words “I give your country my douze points.” As I said, just watch it, go with it, and most of all, embrace it. I’ll guarantee you, you’ll love it.