The rise of the illegal rave: ‘It’s a whole different vibe here’

Just after midnight in a forest an hour outside Dublin, a crowd of about 200 people are dancing beneath technicolour strobe lights.

Four hours previously, they boarded buses at pick-up points in Dún Laoghaire, Bray, Kildare and Dublin city centre, not knowing where the drivers would bring them, and techno music blared on board as the buses headed up the mountains at sunset.

It’s the launch night of an eight-hour “secret location rave” organised by a new Dublin DJ collective.

Fairy lights are wound around trees, illuminating colourful graffiti, and a striking dragon’s head hangs in a clearing. DJ booths are covered with waterproof materials in case of rain.

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Many have brought their own alcohol but a makeshift wooden drinks hut has been constructed, selling cans of beer, spirits and mixers.

The set up is “out of this world”, Orlaith Meehan (26) from Dublin says, and the organisers “really thought outside the box to make something out of nothing”.

For Meehan, mainstream events in the city are “mediocre” in comparison and “aren’t usually showcasing the best talent”.

“There’s little thought put into making the night an experience,” she says.

Some among the crowd of 20-somethings are dressed in leopard print and sequinned bras, others in tracksuit bottoms and jackets.

One of the event organisers says he’s “always wanted” to stage an event in the woods.

“I used to be a DJ and an events promoter but during Covid I completely lost motivation. Since things opened up I haven’t been to a club once, I’ve only been to raves.”

He’s reluctant to be named. Not, he says, because what the group does is illegal, but because they want to “keep it exclusive — for a particular type of crowd”.

He describes Ireland’s licensing laws as they apply to nightclubs as “outdated”. Nightclubs must close by 2.30am or obtain a Special Exemption Order (SEO), which costs €410 per night.

“There’s people who say to us, ‘We’re not going if it’s legal’. Because it’s a whole different vibe here. You go to something like this and you’re gonna talk about it after because you’ll have a great night and you see the effort that goes into it.”

Compared with a standard nightclub, tickets are pricey at €30 per person, which includes entry to the event and a return bus journey. But the organisers say they are not making a profit.

“I’ve lost 500 quid to put this on. This took about two months of my life, man, this was so stressful. It almost cripples you because there’s so much on your mind. There’s about 16 grand of equipment here. If that all gets seized …”

I think there’s more demand for later stuff. And it’s the lawlessness of it, I guess

Drugs are being taken in the woods, but that’s “not the point” of the event. “People take drugs at clubs too,” he says.

Meanwhile, a separate event run by a different collective is happening elsewhere in the same woods.

“The underground scene is thriving,” a DJ at the event, named Alec, says.

People come here to “do whatever they want” as nightlife in Dublin city centre is “too restrictive”, Alec says.

“I think there’s more demand for later stuff. And it’s the lawlessness of it, I guess.”

Alec is part of a separate Dublin-based electronic rave collective called The Shed Residents, which started when Covid-19 restrictions were imposed in 2020.

“We started a few months into lockdown. We were just throwing parties for ourselves and our friends, we weren’t trying to become a collective. Planning events and learning how to DJ just really drew all of our mates together. We wanted to keep going,” Alec says.

Another member of the collective, Steven, said when the group ran their first large-scale event, they were “shocked by the turnout”.

The events mostly take place in outdoor locations such as forests and beaches. Finding spaces was difficult in the beginning and reusing the same location can result in it becoming “compromised”.

“We’ve had one event shut down because it was our third in the same spot. The guards just told us to move on and not to be seen there again,” a third member, Rudy, explains.

Before the pandemic, the after-hours scene was predominantly happening in warehouses or sometimes behind takeaway restaurants, with secret location raves becoming the “new thing” during lockdowns.

And now that clubs have reopened, demand for underground events has not gone away.

Instagram pages advertise new events. One page has amassed more than 10,000 followers, and events with a €55 price tag continue to sell out.

This is partly due to the buzz orchestrated around the events — keeping the location under wraps adds a sense of excitement, and there is little promotion required. Tickets sell by word-of-mouth, with organisers asking for as much discretion as possible.

In response to queries, An Garda Síochána warned in a statement against people attending “any event which is unlicensed and in breach of any legislation”.

Unlicensed events are legislated for under the Licensing (Combating Drug Abuse) Act, 1997, the statement said. Depending on the nature of the event further legislation such as Misuse of Drugs Act and Public Order Act may also be relevant.

“Unlicensed events will not have the required and essential health and safety procedures and controls in place and are a potential risk to any person attending.”

Buzz O’Neill, who runs legal LGBT+ nightlife events in Dublin city centre, says the demand for illegal events is partly due to established clubs being forced to close down in recent years.

Research by Give Us the Night, a group advocating for the night-time sector, showed that four in five Irish nightclubs have shut since 2000. In Dublin, these included spots such as Hangar, District 8, Tivoli and Jigsaw.

It’s not about alcohol. It’s about the dance floor; it’s a beautiful place where so much happens and is created there

O’Neill used to run a weekly called The Sunday Social, hosted at Farrier & Draper on Dublin’s South William Street. It continued for 14 years before he announced it would end following its Pride wrap party in June.

The return of clubs earlier this year initially came as a relief to those in the sector, but in the months since, O’Neill says gardaí have been strictly enforcing what he describes as “outrageously strict laws”.

“I get it, they have to do their jobs, but we can’t run a club for two hours,” he says.

The Minister for Justice intends to publish the general scheme of the Sale of Alcohol Bill in “the coming weeks”, which will update and modernise alcohol licensing laws in Ireland, a departmental spokeswoman said.

This was “part of the Government’s plan to support and develop a vibrant, diverse, and sustainable night-time economy in Ireland”, she said.

The Licensing Acts 1833 to 2018, the Registration of Clubs Acts 1904 to 2008, and the Public Dance Hall Act 1935 will be replaced with “updated and streamlined provisions more suited to the 21st century”.

A single new Act will make it “more accessible and user-friendly for the licensed trade, courts, gardaí and the public.”

O’Neill says it will be “interesting” to see how the Bill works out.

“A lot of our problems are tied up in our absolutely rubbish licensing laws because it’s all tied to the sale of alcohol. But it’s not about alcohol. It’s about the dance floor; it’s a beautiful place where so much happens and is created there.”

“It seems a bit regressive when we came out of the worst two years of our lives. All it’s doing is driving people to underground, unregulated and illegal nights. My inbox is full of people saying they’re going to those kinds of parties instead now. I’m far from a prude — unregulated parties are good, but only until something happens.”

A European study in 2018 found that 56 per cent of respondents had experienced some form of sexual violence in a nightlife setting — either on a night out or while working.

It is impossible to know how many incidents like this might be occurring at illegal events, as victims may be more reluctant to report.

Shirley Scott, policy manager at the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre, said the national 24-hour helpline “hasn’t heard anybody talk about attending illegal or unregulated parties and out of that nobody was using the helpline saying anything had happened to them at these events”.

However, during periods of lockdown, the helpline had an increase in calls from some people who had attended parties and been assaulted.

“Some of them didn’t tell anyone because they were more concerned that they had breached lockdown and saw themselves as having done something wrong. When people do go to underground scenes and get in contact with us, we’re always saying that irrespective of where it happened, it’s never okay, and it’s always important to get the help and support that’s available,” Scott says.

Back at the event in the woods, organisers say they “do their best to make everyone feel safe and look out for one another”. Orlaith Meehan says she felt “incredibly safe” there, knowing she had a way to get back home on the bus, and because she was among “like-minded friends”.

Organisers are also quick to point out that they plan to “stay behind to clean up”, after summer raves on beaches in north Dublin drew criticism for littering beer bottles, shopping bags and takeaway cups. Fingal County Council said its staff spent six hours cleaning up Burrow Beach after one event.

There will “always be a desire for an underground scene, because it’s a different kind of atmosphere”, one young man in a bucket hat and sunglasses says. Young people are simply “happy to be making up for lost time” as lockdowns slowly became a distant memory, he adds.