Category: Avon

This is just a page and a bit from Harry Harrison’s Dreaming in Yellow. Want to know the rest of the story? Buy the book.

With freezing fog and terrible visibility, the night of 31st December arrived wreathed in spectral mist. Driving the faithful Dodge truck down from Nottingham, as we arrived we were astounded to see groups of willing helpers, all wearing high-visibility tabards and enthusiastically escorting us to the marquee, already erected… We looked on in disbelief as the traffic marshals proceeded to direct arriving vehicles to park in neat rows. ‘It’s not right,’ muttered Cookie with a shake of his head. But recognising the administrative genius of Steve Bryant, I sought him out and congratulated him on being more organised than we had ever been.

This level of traffic logistics had been part of the farmer’s deal, as Steve explained. It would be a long night and day for the poor farmer… Interestingly, there was a big Fantazia party around ten miles down the road, more of which later. As we were soundchecking, Spencer from the local crew Eze Love casually wandered into the marquee and asked if we’d be up for throwing his rig next to ours. Absolutely, we replied, only to discover that he had a hugely impressive JBL 10K system, which, when wired in with Black Box, produced the most fantastic sound ever heard at a free party. There was something in the air that night, a visceral feeling that this was going to be big and it was going to be wild. As the fog descended, more and more cars and vehicles drove in through the gates. It was so cold that everyone was in the marquee, which looked stunning in the hazy darkness and even had proper matting on the floor, and the sound was perfect. More party-heads arrived, and then more. In the end, there must have been around two thousand people at that party – and it was righteous.

Jules and Dan played, followed by Steve Mullatto and on into Digs and Woosh, Simon, possibly Pezz and Emma, and, finally, Jack and lain Lazy House, and they tore the roof off. I think it was probably the best atmosphere I’ve ever experienced, anywhere; it was the very definition of what made free parties so special. Another added ingredient was all the freezing and bedraggled ravers turning up from Fantazia down the road, for which they had shelled out twenty-five pounds and uniformly described as shit, there being no real atmosphere to keep the cold at bay. Eventually, the field was so full of cars that people began parking in the traditional way, that being wherever the fuck they wanted, and soon they managed to block the road. I repeatedly had to get on the mic and request that people move their cars, first quite pleasantly and then not so pleasantly, my hoarse Boltonian insults recorded for posterity on the mixtapes that were sold of the night (MC Harry added on the cover by some joker). Somewhere outin that mist was a lost Liverpool contingent who never did find the party, but instead found somewhere nice to break
out the supplies and chat through the night… Then news came through that the police had contacted the farmer and threatened to withdraw his restaurant licence if he didn’t stop the rave. Steve Bryant and Jon Kosecki were trying to talk him round in his kitchen for hours, and boy were those two the men for the job. I offered Steve whatever extra cash he needed to bribe the poor sod and this policy worked at about five hundred pounds per hour until finally he broke sometime around lunchtime on New Year’s Day 1993, and we had no alternative but to stop. Jack was playing, the atmosphere was electric in that marquee, and we had to break it to him that this would be his last tune, one of the most painful perils of organising raves with no set end time. For his last record, Jack made the truly inspired choice of Public Enemy’s anti-authoritarian anthem ‘Fight the Power’ and the place went absolutely berserk.

Harry Harrison, Dreaming in Yellow. Velocity Press, 2022, p.162-164.

And here’s Tim’s take on this legendary party:

It seems kind of fitting that the last free rave I ever went to was on December the 31st 1992, the last day of a year filled with unique and amazing experiences. This final party also probably had the happiest, friendliest vibe of them all. But most importantly for me, was the music. I always really listened to the tunes while I danced at these parties; music was and always will be one of my biggest passions. There were times though, when admittedly it just became a soundtrack to a drug fuelled adventure in the countryside. But on this night however, the music was just so god damned good that it commanded my attention and at some points I could do little more than laugh with glee. Shortly after, I made it my mission to find tapes of the event, and track them down I did. I still have all eight of them – which pretty much spans the whole party. And they still sound fucking great.

The weather on this New Years Eve was particularly dire. Thick, freezing fog lay in menacing stretches making driving conditions treacherous. But word was that DiY were putting on a party down near bath, and I could still clearly remember the good times me and Stuart had at their do in Plumpton. So me, Stuart, my sister Liz and her boyfriend Paul spent some considerable time umming and ahhing as to what to do, after all we already had some E’s so maybe we should just get mashed up and hang around with our mates in Witney town. Naah, fuck that we concluded, and piled into Stuart’s mums car. (I’m pretty sure she knew we had it!)

The journey was indeed highly unenjoyable, Stuart jerking to a near stop every time a dense blanket of fog suddenly enveloped us. Several times we nearly turned back, until we got beyond halfway and knew we had to keep going, despite the fact that half the time we could barely even see the road below us. We followed to A46 to Bath, then turned left on to the A420, and then thank God there was the White Hart pub, the final part of the directions I had scribbled down earlier on. Two hundred yards beyond this, apparently, was the party.

So we parked up in a nearby field (apparently DiY had already pre arranged this with the farmer who owned it) and bowled into the pub, as it was still pretty early. The place was packed, and taking a brief look around at the Fila trainers and Destroy t-shirts it was pretty clear that 90% of them were popping pills with those bottles of Becks, slowly gearing up before the party started. The few locals were probably more than a little surprised to see their quiet country establishment crammed to the rafters with trendy young folk.

There was an infectious air of anticipation and excitement, so we swallowed down our E’s; this week they were Shamrocks, the latest shit hot ones to hit the streets. Before long the word came that the party had just kicked off. We followed the rest of the crowd the short distance down the lane, passed the parked cars, and right there in the adjoining field was a large, white marquee, a sight that by now had come to symbolize the free rave scene.

It was still only about 11.30, half an hour to go before the big clichéd 12 o’clock thing. But then the music started.

Since my last outing with DiY I had been becoming progressively interested in the more laid back four by four house sound. However I was still very much under the manic influence of breakbeat rave and hard, tribal techno; with labels such as Moving Shadow, Production House, and Rising High being my muse. But when that deep, chunky beat kicked in, when that dubby, bouncing bassline shook the floor, and when those spacey, tripped out, soulful atmospherics and vocal hooks washed over me, I knew my heart was lost.

While Spiral Tribe took you on an exhilarating, adrenalin fuelled journey; DiY’s DJ’s – Jack, Ian, DK, Cookie, Digs and Woosh (the best named DJ’s in the business) and all the rest – simply made you wanna smile and dance your skinny ass off. The music was still just as underground, innovative and out there, but the whole attitude was less hardcore u know the score, and more kick back, chill out and get funked up. However, they still partied just as hard as any of their contempories.

At midnight the music stopped for a few brief moments, and with a simple “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to 1993!” the party really began.

The marquee was as packed as the pub had been. This was partly due to the freezing winter air outside, but there is no doubt that the tantalizing; mouth-watering beat was as irresistible to everyone else as it was to me. As the familiar waves of nausea announced my impending E, I looked around at the bobbing crowd and saw a sea of smiles reflecting mine back.

Although coming up on E was usually quite an unsubtle affair, both physically and mentally, there was still a moment of surprise when you suddenly realized that everything was now wonderfully different. Music sounded incredible. Everyone looked like a potential best friend. And dancing became so easy and natural that it was hard to stop. And boy, was this music easy to dance to. The floor of the tent had been thoughtfully covered with some form of wooden decking, and this provided an excellent springy surface on which we collectively got off our heads and grooved into the night.

The party goers seemed a little less grungy than the usual Spiral crowd I was so used to. A few more logos, the odd pair of Kickers mixed with the obligatory trainers, little or no combat gear. Everyone, in fact, looked fucking great, or so it appeared. I spent some time dancing next to a very perky looking traveler girl, who had multi-coloured, striped knee length socks and short funky dreads. There was one particular track, with an awesome hook and incessant bassline, which seemed to be just never ending, it bounced on and on sounding better with every beat. I shared this thought with her and she laughed and agreed. When, seemingly ages later, I caught her eye again and the track was still playing we just pissed ourselves laughing. It was a fucking good track though, but I never found it on the tapes!.

My sister and I took a wonder outside to get some fresh air, and some fresh drugs. We had become quite used to partying together since meeting up at Castlemorton. Actually I still had a couple of E’s left, but I selfishly kept them to myself (I was not a very sharing person when it came to drugs) so I helped Liz search out some speed. Of course by now everyone had heated up nicely, there were quite a few people sitting on the damp ground, oblivious of the freezing temperatures while they slapped a few rizlas together. I made it my duty to mention to everyone (and I mean everyone) how good I thought the music was, and was met with universal agreement, and the odd toke on a spliff -cheers, thanks!

I spied a skinny white guy with long blond dreads down to his waist – Moffball! He was one of the DiY crew I had met at their last party, so I rushed over to say hi how you doing do you have any drugs? He seemed to remember me – I was the one with the insane, perpetual grin – and we chatted for a bit before he introduced us to one of his equally friendly traveler buddies who apparently had some rather nice speed.

I’m not entirely sure what it was, but the wrap of bright yellow powder was soon in Liz’s belly and from that point on lighting cigarettes became increasingly difficult, until I had to take over this delicate operation for her. The rocket fuel searing round her little body also made coherent speech a challenge, but she none the less appeared to be having an excellent time so I polished off my E’s and joined her in marveling at the electric blue sparks that were now appearing like daises in the grass. We had several incredibly meaningful though profoundly illogical conversations with similarly mashed party heads, including one terrifying looking traveler with tattoos, piercings and long black hair who turned out to be the sweetest bloke you could wish to meet.The lure of the music eventually drew us back under the cover of the marquee and we continued to boogie away on the wooden boards, which were becoming decidedly wonky as the night progressed. Hearing Hardfloor’s Hardtrance Acperience was a memorable highlight – layers of 303’s building and building, keeping you hanging on for the break until the very last, orgasmic moment.

The MC reminded us that Fantazia was having an expensive do a few miles up the road, and I was only too pleased to drop a few pound coins into the donation bucket that was being passed around. Jack, DiY’s bext known DJ, was playing at Fantazia much to the amused scorn of the rest of his posse. He did, however, eventually manage to escape and played us the final set of the night.

As a cold grey dawn slowly began to break, Stuart, Liz and I went outside to inspect the surroundings in the new light. Everywhere was still shrouded in the thick fog that had made our drive down so pleasant. However, now it looked totally brilliant. To our chemically tinged eyes the mist had a translucent, surreal quality to it, blues and greys blending in to more vivid pinks, greens and purples. We stopped and stared, becoming aware of a number of other ravers in a similar state of awe.

And then there was that thing, that tree. It appeared to be hovering about a mile above the ground. I ‘assume that it was a very tall tree, its bottom half completely hidden by the fog. But at the time, we just couldn’t get our heads round it. “Hey mate, what the fuck’s that thing up there?” I asked some guy next to me.” Shit, ” he replied, “that’s fucking weird “. Several others became interested, and we all had a great time bonding over stupid explanations of UFO’s and more ciggies and spliffs.

A watery sun did manage to break it’s way through and gradually burn away the final wisps of fog. The party began to thin out a little and, despite still being immensely fucked, we said farewell to DiY and to an awesome, intense year that can never be repeated. Although the weather was by now totally clear, the drive home was very similar to the one down. Stuart continued to frequently slam on his breaks, only this time it was due to imaginary objects that kept appearing in his path. I’m not sure what we did when we got back, but I remember sitting in the pub that evening, our heads and feet still involuntarily bobbing to the beats on the jukebox. It would take a while for that night, for that year to leave our minds.

Here is an article about the party from an unknown newspaper:

Neighbours outraged as 1,500 descend on farm

Fury over rave party

By Sally Pook

MORE than 1,500 people descended on a farm near Bath for a New Year’s Eve party.

Police were not warned about the rave party, at a farm on the A420 between Marshfield and Cold Ashton, and were unable to stop it going ahead. 

Nearby residents said they were furious because it kept them up all night. 

Mrs Clarissa Mallett, of Oldfield Farm cottages, said: “It wrecked our New Year. My husband Richard was poorly because he was in : car accident the day before. He couldn’t sleep and neither could the children.

“There was a constant droning. We were going to have a few drinks to celebrate the New Year but we didn’t in the end. It was totally inconsiderate.”

The party started at 9.30pm and finished at 1pm the next day. People from all over the country attended.

Farmer Alan Tizzard, of Folly Farm, next door to the rave site, said he was furious after revellers tore down his fencing and urinated on his land.

He said: “They broke down all the fences and walls around the field. And there were no toilet facilities at all. They were using my land as a toilet.

“I had to be up at 5.30am but I was up all night because of it. I got about two hours sleep.’

But Mr Dave Lang, who allowed his land at Folly End to be used for the party, said it was a good event and everyone had a good time.

He said: “There was no aggravation, no fighting, no booze, nothing. It was a private party and all the kids had a great time.

“I enjoyed it and I am 40. People who complain about it ought to come and see it.”

He said there was no entrance fee to the party.

Sergeant Dave Welsman of Avon and Somerset police said it was not clear whether the party was legal or not.

He said: “We were in attendance to monitor the situation because there was certainly a large number of people there.

“We did not have great advance notification of it. We heard about it a very short while after it had been set up.

“People came from a wide area and there is no doubt that information has been passed far afield about it but how that information was passed we do not know.”

Sgt Weisman said the party had been well-organised and there were no arrests.

He said: “There were reports of people urinating on people’s land but there were no serious disorder situations and no arrests.

“It caused some problems with residents. We had a lot of people telephoning our switchboard.”

There were serious traffic problems along the A420 at one point in the night because of the amount of cars travelling to the site.

Mrs Mallett said: “I am furious. They may have had a happy New Year but we haven’t.”

We previously listed the wrong place name, see the title ^ for the real name of the location 🙂

Some memories from the unstoppable Simon M:

Drove up with P, T and M from Winterbourne Abbas. I can’t remember who T is now, but I do remember he was drinking a can of Special Brew whilst driving us towards Bath.

Got there when it was dark. Big white marquee, a few thousand people, party in full swing, vehicles parked all around. Fog. Great music – deep house and acid. Really cold, unless you got right in the middle of the party and then is was so hot people had their tops off.

Must have lost everyone else because according to my diary I spent most of the night on my own, but I had a great time. Had a Splitzer and danced all night. Sat in a car having a smoke with some guy who told the most incredible stories – can’t remember any of them now. Much older crowd, had the sense that a lot of the people here were veteran ravers, lots of long dreads.

At about 3am the music went quite acid techno. There was a traveller doing the most amazing elastic robotic dancing to the squelchy sounds. I also remember seeing a large Asian guy, top off, doing a dance like he was cleaning windows, wax on, wax off! I don’t remember much of a fuss being made about midnight, the party just kept rocking.

Lots of people on this website saying there weren’t any E’s at the party. Most people must have brought their own because the party was full of E’d up good vibes.

Here are newer uploads of the DK tape, enjoy! Thanks to Jerry for pointing out our broken links 🙂 By the way, if anyone sees any other broken links (I’m sure there are others!) just leave a comment and we’ll try to replace them with current ones 🙂

Recordings from the rest of the night can be found on this page:

http://www.oldskoolanthemz.com/forum/showthread.php?t=129737

Incidentally, this party belongs to the long list of great parties I never made it to. Some of my friends went and had a whale of a time. Anyway, here’s Mark’s account of the night:

New Years Eve daytime having a smoke at Holmer’s house with Mr Wyer and one other(?) plans were made to head for the party that night Bath way. I called two other mates, Woody and Spence, and the mission was on. So, after waiting for Woodie to finish his washing up shift 😉 at the Jade restaurant we set off just after 11pm in Spencer’s white 405.

Before long we were hammering down the m5 and come 12pm the obligatory champagne made its appearance. After a quick refuel, we set off again reaching the party around 2am(?). Anyone who was out that night will remember it was absolutely freezing! The party though was in full swing and I remember being impressed by the t-shirted and sweaty bodies inside the marquee compared to the freezing people outside.

We soon realised that there werent any E’s on site – or so we were told and decided to plump for some hash and acid instead. This we did, scoring off a nice little ice cream van parked nearby. The night passed in acid, champagne and slate confusion and the rising sun showed the whole area to be wreathed in fog which was confusing many people by the looks of it. We made the brave decision to go and try and dance so after Spencer’s neatky executed 3 point turn and a close encounter with a large hairy pig we were inside the tent. All I remember is dancing with a insane grin on what appeared to be a 45 degree slope. Anyway, a good time was had by all 🙂