London, November 2006: The club night is supposed to happen somewhere in London’s East End. After leaving my cellphone number on an online dubstep forum, I will be informed that very evening where the party is supposed to take place. Around 9 p.m., the coordinates of the location surface on my display. I have been following the community radio station Rinse FM over the last couple of weeks and learned of the importance of cellphones in this music scene. I meet up with two of my colleagues from school; we have some drinks, and fi nally slip into the night, wandering through dark alleyways somewhere between Shoreditch and Whitechapel. We enter the place through a huge cast-iron gate fastened by a chain, making the entrance as minimal as possible. A young, friendly woman asks us for the contribution of £5 and lets us pass. The building is an abandoned offi ce block, ready to be turned into expensive condos to conform with the pressures of gentrifi cation in the area. Once I stand in the courtyard, I notice the heavy beat of a bass coming from somewhere below, the asphalt seems to shake and crack.