Scottish Twitter knows rave culture better than anyone

Scrolling through Twitter can be an experience not too dissimilar to wading through a cesspit. Any given thumb flick can reveal casual threats of nuclear holocaust from the reality TV star President of the USA, Russian bots spewing propaganda, or exhausting promotions from tax-avoiding corporations.

There are rays of light among the darkness, though, and the premium banter of Scottish Twitter is one thing that keeps us returning to the dreaded timeline. Among the Scots dialect-stylised wisdom and gags, Scottish Twitter consistently proves itself as the gospel when it comes to capturing party culture to a tee.

See some of the finest examples below.

Who needs weighty soundsystems and globally revered DJs when you have a boombox tied to a zimmer frame playing primary school disco anthems on a high street? The scenes in the video above look far more euphoric than any Ibiza super club we’ve visited. The dance moves are more wild, the vibe more unified. Keep your world class clubs, the Scots smash them out the park with a budget lower than the cost of a Balearic bottle of water.

Some weird chat gets pulled out in the depths of the after party, but between the blithering some salient points of interest are hit. The above tweet is exquisite after party chat. What does happen after an Evanesence concert? Pingers and Monster energy drink, are they so different? Underneath it all, are goths... just like us? Then you come to your senses and laugh them off as fucking goblins.

You ever find yourself in a club smoking area finalising the itinerary for the ninth week of your yoghurt weaving expedition to Cambodia with Tim (or Jim maybe?), declaring with more conviction than a ‘life coach’ insisting their ‘job’ isn’t a sham that you are absolutely, definitely going? Then blearily wake up to an accepted friend request notification the following afternoon which sends you shrinking into the foetal position with a soft groan? Aye.

A seminal work; the urtext of Scottish Twitter rave commentary. A deeply emotional, real, raw showcase that Scottish Twitter live by the party, die by the party. Timing it with the drop also a good indicator that they’re sick at beatmatching.

Proof that the Scottish Dads still out there know the importance of the party, embarking on late-night drives to ensure their offspring can get seshing. Meanwhile, your non-Scotch Dad ignores your pleas and leaves you on read, sad.

From promoter problems to flakey friends, vague responses aren’t impressing anyone. If it’s your friend’s club night, just click going to support and get that algorithm whirring. If it’s an invite to party plans, you don’t need to respond until you know either way. DMs exist, so you can direct those “Potentially in the States that weekend darling, will let you know!” or “Mum’s birthday on the Sunday may have a family thing” messages there, the pre-event wall post hype doesn’t need them.

While your twee fridge magnet philosophy is built upon outdated falsehoods, Scottish Twitter cuts through the BS and knows full well dance music is full of people careering around chatting shit. And that’s just on the dancefloor - don’t get us started on the hot air in the green rooms.

When you discover your little brother’s Instagram and his username is SeshLordSteve420 and then you go downstairs and he’s crying over not being allowed spaghetti hoops for tea. But more to the point, what’s dance music without a bit of intergenerational rivalry? “Kids these days are such fakers man, they don’t get it like we do, they weren’t there, man. WOt happnd *thumbs down emoji*” - a quote found on every single Facebook post with a hint of connection to old-skool rave.

Forget your Atkins and your 5:2s, any party head knows the best way to get peng is go to a festival and dance non-stop for four days while subsisting on crisps and cereal bars. Sure, you get a comedown rather than a gym high, but the waistline gets trim and that’s the main thing. (Joking aside - that is probably about as good for you as eating internet-bought diet pills.)

It’s a dancefloor not a catwalk, lads. Clubs are dark for a reason. Keep your mouth shut and if you’re going to stare, make sure it’s just because you want to learn how to pull off that 180° heel flick or rotating fist pump from the best mover in the room.

And lastly, they're always ahead of the curve.

Patrick Hinton is Mixmag's Digital Staff Writer, his Twitter likes are a shrine to Scottish Twitter