You stumble out of the tube station into the desolate labyrinth of concrete and steel. As you look around you’re struck by the alley’s devoid state. It's been a day. You’re three deep into the chaos that is Fashion Week; navigating a web of back-to-back events, from runway shows to pop-up store openings, and now, the grand finale—the Fashion Week after-party—which in London tends to look more like an A-list rave.
The barren stretch of road is home to towering structures of metal and glass, proudly flaunting its rusted facade. Layers of weathered wheat pastings and once-in-tact posters scar the wall—'Rinse FM 30th Anniversary’—catches your eye. Underneath the tremors of electronic dance music lies the perpetual hum of machinery, reverberating off the former factory's decrepit exteriors.
Your eyes work overtime, scanning the rows of industrial-grade doors in search of—'294'—three numbers, in that exact combination. Behind the dense door, a steep climb up metal stairs awaits you through a corridor plastered in a thick coat of graffiti that reads like cryptic hieroglyphs.
On the dance floor, your palms start to salivate. Glimpses of light propagate the space, each flicker perfectly timed to the melodic thump of the bass. You skitter your feet from left to right, the echo of your footsteps remaining vaguely in sync with the distant memory of the beat as it cuts across the room.
Behind the scenes atoms and molecules collide, heating the expanse, and clogging the air with smog. Beads of sweat colonize your forehead, making the steep descent slowly down your face. You use one hand to gently wipe the residue away, whilst pumping the other religiously to the contagious sound. From the Second Summer of Love in the late 1980s that birthed acid house music, and the “illegal rave,” to the rich dance floors of landmark London clubs like ‘Village Underground’ and ‘Ministry of Sound,’ the beats of jungle, house, techno, and garage echoed then and continue to echo now.
In need of a breather, you patiently elbow your way through the sardined crowd. Outside in the six-by-six smoker's area, you’re handed a Marlboro Gold fresh from the deck. The lighter catches the tobacco quickly, generating a wall of heat that competes with the crisp air of the early hours. As you draw the smoke to the back of your throat, you eavesdrop on a neighboring conversation, the indistinct chatter pointing to another rave tonight, hosted by Highsnobiety x Champion—it sounds familiar. You saw the flyer for the same event on an Instagram story posted by your latest DJ obsession Ella Knight a couple of days ago. It’s a love letter to London’s very own, ‘Rinse FM.’ A whole night dedicated to the iconic music platform's 30th anniversary; acknowledging its journey from a pioneering pirate radio station to a landmark musical institution that’s championed the UK’s underground scene. Rumor has it—the guest list does not disappoint, boasting cameo appearances from the “who’s who of London”—you don’t want to miss out.
You’re on the move again. Behind you, a trail of stragglers has formed; an assortment of old friends, new friends, rave-fiends, and novice ravers, all on the prowl in search of their next move. Destination: Highsnobiety x Champion. You stride toward the exposed brick exterior in the near distance, the thump of the bass growing closer with each step. When you reach the rod iron gate, relief washes over you, you’ve made it just in time.
As you ascend, you grip tightly on the oversized hoodie that clings loosely to your friend’s back. Her hair is tucked neatly into the hood of her sweatshirt, except for a strand or two that hangs freely, framing the inches of her face not disguised by blacked-out sunglasses. In the dimly lit passageway, it's difficult to make out the design, but you recognize the signature Champion logo.
When you reach the small landing the tremor crescendoes to a shriek. A discreet man, with mohawk-like hair, stretched ear lobes, and a face tattoo that traverses the bridge of his nose, gestures for your right wrist. He’s sporting a faded tee, emblazoned with a bold typeface that reads ‘Rinse FM.’ You know, the disruptive music platform that’s pumped drum and bass, garage, and grime through London’s airwaves for the better part of three decades. A somewhat DIY-ed creation, the shirt is torn and tethered, held together by the mere grip of safety pins—sparking your memory of an outfit you saw this afternoon while meandering the streets of style-forward visitors, in town for a week of Fashion. Reaching for a black-ink Sharpie, he hastily pushes the tip of the pen into the pores of your skin, scribbling a design that is hard to decode—you’re in.
Your pace eases, as the thrum of the speaker slows to a calm 120 BPM. Across the floor, you catch a glimpse of a familiar slender figure, 6ft 3 in stature with lanky limbs and broad shoulders. You stare intently, mesmerized by the way his body jolts perfectly out of time to the rhythm. Heavily tinted sunglasses shield his eyes; the speed-like frames, intended to be worn by cyclists and extreme adventure-takers, now find purpose on the dance floor. With each motion, droplets of congealed sweat flick from his rugged mullet, forming the beginnings of a puddle on the battered floorboards.
At the mercy of the bass, the floor judders the expanse engulfing the crowd in an overwhelming sea of vibrations. A well-equipped army of speakers asserts their position along the circumference of the room, encouraging the synchronous movement of uncoordinated bodies.
A tapestry of strobes bathe over you in a perfect assembly of hues. You squint your eyes, narrowing in on the DJ booth as you try and make out the outlined figure with loosely locked curls. It’s Rinse FM resident DJ Lila, her melodic broken beat sounds infused with soulful deep house tracks engulfing the vast dance floor. Tonight she’s sharing the decks with some of London’s finest; Lu.Re, Katy B, and, Arthi, to be precise.
Your swept into the tide of sound and sensation, the rhythm binding you all together. You give thanks to everything that has led to this moment—the birth of Drum and Bass, the emergence of Dubstep, the mainstreaming of Grime—all facilitated by Rinse FM, whose been carving out London’s sound with care over the last three decades. And so, tonight you don’t just dance to any beat, you dance to the city’s heartbeat.
Meet us on the dance floor.
