Desert Storm in the fucking area!

 

Desert Storm the sound system who took techno to the front-line in Bosnia. – Summer ’96

 

Sound systems do not have to seek trouble these days. Under attack from a parliament which considers them criminals, they work with the constant risk of arrest and seizure of equipment. Most party crews have sought a quieter life on the more hospitable Euro scene, Glasgow’s ‘Desert Storm’ have found welcoming crowds in the unlikeliest venues of all; the war-torn cities of Bosnia.

 

 

On a recent ‘legit’ tour of British venues to raise money for their forth trip in eighteen months, in Manchester’s New Ardri club they shared with me a little of the World according to Desert Storm. Although their home base is still in Glasgow, the five crew members I met each come from different cites.

 

“Desert Storm isn’t really a crew,” explains rob from Sheffield “it’s more of a …thing.” “A bubbling blob.” offers Danny. “Yeah people drift in and out.”

 

At the centre of the blob is Keith, the only remaining founder member. He talks enthusiastically about the origins of Desert Storm throwing ‘afterparties’ in Glasgow in early ’91 against the backdrop of the Gulf War.. The name was his idea, representing not only their ‘beats not bullets’ message, but also their desire to be seen as part of an army: ‘It’s an anti-estabishment thing, we want to show them we’re organised, but for our own ends not for theirs’. Desert Storm decor does not follow the usual style of techno nights, all trippy fractals and tie-dye wall hangings. Instead they prefer a mass of camouflage netting with khaki and black the dominant colours. The effect is powerful, Desert Storm gigs feel like they are taking place in a bunker with a civil war going on outside. The visual impact of a Desert Storm gig drives home the concept of a revolutionary culture boiling under the surface of modern Britain. In the beginning the parties had an entrance fee, but this was attracting problems.

 

 

“We were getting some really dodgy people hanging around, we has to hire our own shady security and it was all getting out of hand, so we just knocked it on the head for six months. We went to London and met Mark from Spiral Tribe, and he persuaded us that free parties were the way forward. So we went back and built our first RDV [Rapid Deployment Vehicle] which was a camouflage transit with a 1.5 K rig in it. We could just drive in anywhere and start playing, and that’s basically how we’ve operated ever since.”

 

By 1994 the campaign against the Criminal Justice Bill was politicising ravers everywhere. Desert Storm were the only soundsystem to apply for permission in time to play on the July march, and consequently entertained an audience of 70,000 in Trafalger Square on a glorious summer’s day. One of them, James from Nottingham was so impressed that he tracked them down in Glasgow and has been a regular DJ ever since.

 

 

Three months later this celebration of youthful freedom was overshadowed in Hyde Park by possibly the only riot in history to have been started by police determination to stop people from dancing. Keith recalls: “Amid all the mayhem we’d broken down but we were still playing. There were riot cops everywhere and this crazy Glaswegian called Paddy stuck his head through the van window and said ‘I’ve got to have your phone number’. A week later we were at home in Glasgow and I got a phone call from the same guy asking if we wanted to go to Bosnia in three weeks. I mean, what could I say? It was defiantly fated, we just had to go.”

 

The resulting trip took them to Tusla with a Workers’ Aid Convoy fo the most exciting New Year of their lives. James describes the events of the evening: “We started playing on the move and we had thousands of people following us through the streets in two foot snow and minus ten degrees. We played one techno record with a chorus that went ‘Get going to the beat of a Drum BANG!’ and all the soldiers fired their AK-47’s in the air ‘kakakakaka’ and it was such a fucking buzz it was incredible. We played the same record about ten times. At one point a policeman came up to tell us to turn the volume up , but to turn off some of our lights as we were attracting shellfire. The frontline was only ten kilometres away.’

 

Three trips later and the desire to take techno to the front line is as strong as ever. The ethics of taking a party to the most miserable man made hell in Europe is an on-going source of debate, and not only among themselves. Danny admits.

 

“It’s something that comes up repeatedly when we’re collection money, how can we justify taking a large van all the way to Bosnia with only ourselves and a sound system. We sometimes have doubts ourselves, but them I think back to that first New Year in Tusla and I know we’re doing the right thing. The reality out there now is that most people have food and bare essentials. Everyone from UNHCR to Workers’s Aid are sending conveys of lorries, and the main thing people are crying out for is any kind of entertainment at all. There’s also a youth element. Most of our money is raised among young people here in the UK and most of he people who go to the parties there are young. What we do is a cultural gift from the youth of Britain to the youth of Bosnia.”

 

While the Bosnia trips rightly dominate the legend of Desert Storm, stories abound along the way. There was the Teknival in France, where a gigantic convoy from Paris lead to a farm in a little town called Bresle where the farmer was overjoyed to see the ravers trampling down his field. It turned out to be a peat field and normally he has to employ people once a year to tramp down the grass before could cut it. Shortly after the Mayor arrived atop a lorry full of water. Local bylaws required the townspeople to show hospitality to and gathering of more than a thousand people whether invited or not. Last October the RDV went RTS as the Storm entertained 600 party-goers at a Reclaim the Streets in Manchester, eventually leading a dancing parade through the heart of the city to the steps of the Town Hall.

 

“That was fucking amazing,” recalls Danny. “We never thought we’d get away with playing on Deansgate. When I went to play the first record my hand was shaking so much that I couldn’t put the needle down. But when we started playing this tingle came up through everybodies fingers and suddenly it was like there was an electric energy pulsing up from the crowd, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

 

Desert’s Storm’s willingness to take their chances with the CJA, the TSG or the AK-47’s may seem to verge on the foolhardy, but the whole crew have the confidence that comes from knowing what they do is the right thing to do. Keith talks easily of ‘fate’ a suitable theme for Desert Storm would be a hardcore mix of ‘Que Sera, Sera’. He becomes at once animated and angry when reminiscing about visiting Mostar , where a glorious medieval city has been devastated by the war.

 

“Just about the only building that hasn’t been hit by mortars or rockets is the Ganja cafe. In amongst all the misery and destruction you can still score, have a coffee and look out over the ruins. Is that fate or what?” So what’s next for Desert Storm, I ask Rob. “Well I don’t know about anyone else, but I fancy Chechnya myself!”

 

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