Rave music in the mid-nineties always seemed otherworldly to me and its connoisseurs were as alien as the sounds. Tropical hot Summers with swarms of lads buzzing and cycling through the area with haircuts like sweaty spider legs crushed under the weight of a baseball cap. Postman Pat sweets, Tangle Twisters and a can of Lilt for 36p. Booted out of the house to play on the road but instead melting the black tarmac lines with a magnifying glass while a half-licked ice cream dripped down my legs. I’d stare for hours aimlessly at galaxies forming in oil stains left…