Meet the NEW rave. Same as the old rave?

CAMBRIDGE -- On a recent Tuesday night at Middlesex Lounge, the energetic crowd dances in front of a screen filled with psychedelic imagery at the biweekly event Hearthrob. Clubgoers sport eccentric, neon outfits (some with neon hair to match), a few wear glowing necklaces, and nearly all bounce and pump their fists as local DJ Baltimoroder plays the latest electronic music. Peering from behind three lined-up laptops, he offers up several remixes of songs by the British rock band Klaxons.

"It's rave nostalgia," says Elizabeth Stark, 25, as she sits at J.P. Licks in Brookline on a Sunday afternoon, reflecting on the Middlesex scene with Paul Irish, 24. "There's this 20-something crowd looking for something to latch onto in their past." Both Stark and Irish discuss electronic music extensively on their respective blogs, home taping (hometaping.org) and Aurgasm (aurgasm.us) . Both also frequently attend Hearthrob and other local dance parties.

Irish and Stark say Hearthrob hints at a possible rave renaissance in Cambridge, spread stateside from a similar movement in England, termed "new rave." The British music magazine New Musical Express (better known as NME) is largely responsible for promoting the term, which has been both controversial and catalytic, launching the careers of Klaxons, Datarock, and New Young Pony Club, among others.

As kings of the supposed new rave scene, Klaxons have a collection of UK chart-topping singles and a slew of sold-out shows in Europe and the United States, including one at Great Scott on Wednesday. But critics see few similarities between "new rave" bands such as Klaxons, which create various incarnations of danceable rock, and the trancelike electronic beats of the original rave scene of the late '80s and early '90s in England. The connection between "new rave" and rave exists primarily in the style and atmosphere of Klaxons' concerts, and of dance parties such as Heartthrob.

The men of Klaxons were mere preteens at the height of rave culture in England, when Manchester's youth would converge on fields, in warehouses, and at other clandestine locations (party invites would often include maps) for all-night dance parties fueled by electronic music, strobe lighting, and the drug ecstasy. Bands like Happy Mondays and 808 State emerged at the top of this scene, which traveled to the United States during the mid-to-late '90s. That means that for Klaxons' American fans, rave may be a gauzy memory, but not a distant one. And that may be part of the appeal of a new rave scene.

Another positive aspect, Irish says, is that new rave may unite rock fans and electronic music fans, edging indie-rock showgoers in the direction of the dance floor. "Since [new rave-associated bands] have this heavier, rock-synth vibe, it brings the kids who like rock music into the electronic world. There's not as big a gap."

And that was Klaxons' whole point. In November 2005, Jamie Reynolds, Simon Taylor-Davis, and James Righton, three unemployed 20-somethings living on London's North Cross Road, decided to invent a musical genre. They were frustrated with the seemingly one-track nature of the London music scene, and bored with the post-punk and garage sounds of indie rock -- not to mention all that head nodding and foot tapping. They longed for the chaotic energy that was synonymous with the original rave scene. New rave would re-create that.

"There was a lack of inspiration in London," says Righton, on the phone from Munich, where Klaxons played recently. "[There were] a lot of dregs of the Libertines movement, and we didn't want to do that. We wanted big melodies and hooks, organic melodies that could fall apart at any moment."

So they formed a band, named it Klaxons, and booked a gig for a mere six days later, at London's San Moritz club. "We threw ourselves into the deep end, and everything fell apart," says Righton. "There weren't any tunes or any songs -- there wasn't anything, really." Motivated by fearless determination and a touch of naiveté, the trio danced, hummed, and improvised their way through the gig. It was disorganized and constantly on the verge of dissolution -- exactly what the band was aiming for.

By April 2006, Angular Records, the British indie label that hosted Klaxons' first show, released their first single, "Gravity's Rainbow." Then NME stepped in and declared new rave a full-force musical invasion in Britain, with Klaxons at the helm. "New rave fever strikes in Leeds," NME wrote when Klaxons played there last summer.

The exposure helped Klaxons gain a robust fan base, and as their songs climbed the UK charts and glow stick-swirling fans flocked to their shows, skeptics began to see "new rave" as Klaxons' and NME's joint marketing ploy. A journalist for The Observer, the Sunday edition of British daily newspaper the Guardian, wondered, "Did the Machiavellian low dogs at NME HQ make up New Rave in an editorial meeting one wet Tuesday?"

In January, when Klaxons released their debut album, "Myths of the Near Future," NME seemed to reconsider its own terms. "Klaxons have resurrected not rave's shoe-gazing trance sound . . . but its manic spirit," wrote reviewer Alex Miller.

This statement may be closer to the truth. Klaxons' frenzied shows, packed with neon-clad dancing crowds, are throwbacks to the rave scene, but their album is not. "Myths of the Near Future" is most audibly post-punk-influenced, filled with deliciously distorted guitar, darkly ominous shouts and falsettos, stomping rhythms, and unlikely allusions to J.G. Ballard, William Burroughs, and Thomas Pynchon.

Klaxons' covers of two seminal rave tunes, Grace's "It's Not Over Yet" and "The Bouncer" by Kicks Like a Mule, translate these tunes from club staples to rock anthems. "Atlantis to Interzone," the track most worthy of a packed dance party, is a perpetually accelerating fusion of pounding bass, siren-like bleeps, and Klaxons' urgent shouts. The album bears no resemblance to rave's transient soundscapes.

And Klaxons are OK with that. "It's a term that's snowballed out of control," admits Righton. "It means very little. The rave element is the fact that we're having fun with what we're doing." To that extent, they've succeeded in making new rave what they wanted it to be: a fun dance party.

And this may be what Cambridge's music venues need as well. "To me it's about a night out dancing," says Irish. "It creates this energy because it involves so many people. It's not just about your group -- it's about going crazy with everyone else."