PMAD: Proving What it Means to be “Underground” in the Digital Age of Highlight Reels and POVs
Every proper raver eventually stumbles upon an event tethered to a ‘secret location’ – a staple of underground music culture. But the authenticity and quality of these gatherings often depend on the city, the organisers, and, most crucially, the vibe of the crowd. Late last year, I found myself drawn to PMAD, a London-based underground rave with a queer focus, dedicated to creating a safe space for electronic music lovers. Billing itself as a ‘community for queers, FLINTAs, and allies,’ it offered a refreshing alternative to the ‘dude bro’ energy that can dominate many dancefloors. Naturally, I had to check it out.
In our increasingly online, highlight reel, "POV:" world - you begin to ponder what it means for an event to be truly underground. That is, when you can pull it up via social media search bars and show your friends the myriad curated carousels of their latest event. Look, I get it: we all love, suffer, and thrive on social media these days. Many donning varied perspectives regarding its supposed purpose, often purporting the next best way to disconnect while simultaneously staying… connected. It makes sense that we should use the tools we have, or rather find ourselves stuck with. PMAD instills that surely there's a way to utilise these digital tools whilst also maintaining an authentic hush-hush rave experience.
The off the grid raves of old would have been born primarily by word of mouth, save for paper flyers and leaflets. As a result, event hosts had an easier time ensuring the vibe of the crowd remained intact. This system organized specific groups, making only those with the desirable temperament privy to each event's location, inevitably hosted in dank basements and hidden alleyways.
But in our seemingly inextricably internet-woven modern world, one where our cellphones might as well be superglued to our hands and back pockets… How does “underground” truly sustain its former glory? 
Club night projects like PMAD have presented a unique antidote to the chronic online tendencies of an electrified generation. Whilst using popular social media apps to establish the community and create a following, they also have fail safes in mind - ensuring the maintenance of the closest thing to an “underground” feel. Tickets were available through a private link only after a thoughtful vetting process - designed to ensure a curated community experience. This precaution makes sense in a music scene often marred by unwanted sexual advances or judgment of one’s appearance. By contrast, PMAD promises a space where attendees can fully let go, shielded from the usual pressures of nightlife and the robotic tentacles of iphone cameras.
The event’s promotion was captivating: ‘we venture beneath the city streets, transforming a hidden network of Victorian tunnels into a haven of art, underground music, and queer hedonism.’ It practically demanded attendance. So, armed with laughter and a four-pack of Stellas, we made our way into the city. Finding the entrance was an adventure in itself. After circling the “x marks the spot” for 30 minutes (curse you, smartphones!), we finally spotted our destination. The entrance was positioned deep within unassuming alleys, dark tunnels, all the while low booming bass guided us by the ears. I remember turning to my friends completely mind blown. THIS was underground, this is what we were after. After many years enmeshed in London’s queer rave scene, PMAD was seemingly the most authentic-to-the-stories-I’ve-been-told event I’d come across. I was teeming with excitement. The build-up – complete with emailed maps and subtle clues – felt like a scavenger hunt for one of the most unforgettable nights out many of us have had in years.
While allies were welcome, the energy of the space was treated as sacred, preserved by a shared understanding of respect and care. Queer raves like Riposte and UNFOLD have already set a high bar for centering FLINTA and queer performers, but PMAD offered something distinct: a grittier, more intimate vibe. The lineup didn’t disappoint. Sets from Airali, Faux Naïf, Ireen Amnes, and Katya were a masterclass in dark, hypnotic soundscapes. Advertised as ‘blending oscillating shimmers of dystopian melancholy with blissful euphoria,’ the music delivered on its promise. Mind-melting synths, heavy basslines, and haunting vocals echoed through the tunnels, immersing us in an alternate world. My friends and I couldn’t stop exchanging wide-eyed glances of awe as we danced beneath the cavernous brick arches.
The crowd’s energy was relentless. Unlike most events, where the smoking area siphons off half the dancefloor, PMAD embraced a gritty, 90s-esk vibe – smokers lit up right where they danced. Keeping everything in one space reduces the risk of lost momentum, which often happens halfway through a big night of raving as people sneak off to have a cheeky cigarette (or seven). Coupled with shifting blue and pink spotlights and visuals projected across the ceilings, the atmosphere felt equal parts grungy and otherworldly. Hidden away from street-level distractions, the venue became a sanctuary. Operating as a momentary haven for queer people, allies, and anyone who loves excellent techno and trance.
There’s something to be said about spaces such as this, where the curation is so intentional, so ethereal, we’re able to step into a version of reality unknown to us… The rest of the world melted away with each successive movement. I looked around and not only were attendees seemingly enrobed in each others’ ambient light, but were full of laughter, smiles and very few smartphones in sight. Anemoia is the feeling of nostalgia for a time never experienced first hand. PMAD gave into this knowingness of the iconic 80s/90s club kid experience, one that many of us contemporary music lovers yearn for in many ways but have never authentically touched. Hedonism meets community in the most powerful way, in a space that prioritises safety, acceptance, and celebration of individuality.
After the fact, photographers did their best to capture the experience... But there’s truly nothing like being there yourself… which is one of the biggest aims of the underground scene. Despite having been documented to be posted online, there was something uniquely unphotographable about this environment. Images alone will never do it justice, unable to be replicated, absorbed by the reverberating bass. You'll find yourself surrounded by people you don't know - but can trust simply by the candor of their smirk or glint in their eyes. This is the beauty of underground rave culture, one that is split from a digital world, specifically in the ways it prioritizes queer experiences real time, physical, in person.
There's an unsaid understanding of mutual respect in these spaces when they operate as they're ideally set out to. The world has become increasingly unpredictable, which makes finding our community quite the task online. In these moments, its underground culture focused on preserving queer nuance that is continually paving the way. Within the walls which preserve events like PMAD – the community comes together, offline for a short while, but a damn good time all the same.
Photos by Amelia Valentiner