Being a yank, I found the chapters in this book devoted to breathless polemics on the rave "movement" and the importance of ecstasy as a critical force in shaping a society devoted to Peace and Love(TM) suspiciously similar to the claims of Tim Leary et al of the magical powers of LSD. Here in the colonies, ravers are generally mid/upperclass kids with too much free time who get kicks in expressions of mass vapidity. Walking around stoned ain't gonna change the world, and The Man with The Gun won't take you seriously if you can't walk straight or operate a motor vehicle. The claims of the new disco prophets aside, americans take drugs to get f'd up. I would resent the efforts of a self-proclaimed Voice Of A Generation to portray my alcohol abuse as some sort of revolutionary statement. I have spent zero time in any british rave clubs (when i was in london i walked up to the door of the Astoria, paused, reconsidered my plans, and continued walking to the liquor store down the street), but I have a feeling that the scene is pretty much the same, granted with subtle differences due to the admittedly more restictive Brit class system. Intoxicants do not a movement make. The rest of the book, dealing with specific British DIY methods and campaigns, were a more inspiring. The superficiality of the middle of the book, however, tainted the whole enterprise. If this review seems a bit muddled, forgive me. Like most of the rest of America, I am at this moment suffering a severe Saturday morning hangover.