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e, the incredibly strange history of ecstasy
Disco biscuits, happy pills, doves, wobbly eggs, burgers, X, Adam, e, ecstasy-however you refer to it, MDMA (3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine) has been a life-changing force, for both good and bad, in millions of people's lives. Not since LSD and cannabis in the '60s has a drug acted as such a profound social and cultural catalyst. Ecstasy changed clubbing, music, fashion, design-and overall society-forever. e, the incredibly strange history of ecstasy examines every aspect of MDMA, from its creation in a German lab just before World War I and its use as a psychotherapy tool in the '70s, to its ultimate explosion on the US and UK dance scene. This visually stunning book features more than 200 photographs and illustrations-including an extensive catalog of the most popular, unusual, and fascinating ecstasy pills-along with listings of what they contained and details about their history and cultural significance. Similar to The Cannabis Companion (which has sold more than 40,000 copies to date), e, the incredibly strange history of ecstasy covers every aspect of the subject-from the physical, emotional, and psychological effects of ecstasy and the rise of key rave locations such as Goa and Ibiza, to the futile attempts made by international governments to halt rave culture and stop MDMA use. It is the most comprehensive and contemporary book ever to explore the history and continuing cultural influences of the drug that changed the world.
192 pages, Paperback
First published April 7, 2008
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July 6, 2012
"Don’t do drugs, kids, m’kay? Drugs are bad, m’kay? Don’t do drugs."
So the first time I ever did ecstasy was also the best time. Subsequent explorations were close but never quite as good. The environment was about as exciting as you could get my first time, but the primary issue is also that it became harder and harder to get pure MDMA in the States. The chemists were frequently cutting costs by cutting it with speed, Sudafed, aspirin, meth, or other miscellaneous additions.
The first time I did ecstasy was in Amsterdam. I had just received a good job offer after spending the whole summer freelancing. Set my job start date just over two weeks away, so I was at loose ends. No relationship and no need to work because I had plenty of money saved up. So I said, screw it, I’m going to Amsterdam. I had already been to Amsterdam twice before, and it was and still is my favorite city in the world. So I bought a ticket to leave the next day and to stay for two weeks.
I had nowhere to stay, but I knew a couple women who lived in Amsterdam. I had a friend at the time who was an architect from Germany. She lived across the street from me, and I had attended a party at her place about a month prior where I met two friends of hers who were visiting from Amsterdam—Marion and Marianne. I’m not joking. We hung out at the party, and got along swimmingly. They also borrowed my futon to use as their bed.
I call up Marianne that day and say, “Oh, hey, it’s David. You borrowed my futon … right … so, I’m going to be coming to Amsterdam … tomorrow. Do you mind if I crash at your place?” Fortunately, she said I could!
After arriving in Amsterdam, I manage to make my way to her apartment, which was near the Vondelpark area—a beautiful sprawling park toward the southeast end of Amsterdam. It was three flights up an incredibly narrow winding staircase (everything is up a narrow winding staircase in Amsterdam) to her huge old apartment, probably built in the 1700s. (Unlike Americans, the Dutch don’t tear buildings down when they get “old” and replace them with cheap, crappy condos.) She introduced me to her roommate Phrenc (a guy) who lived on the floor above. They set me up with a mattress on a landing just outside Phrenc’s door. For the next week or so, she took me out several times, and I met many of her friends and went to great places unknown to tourists.
It was about a week into it, when Phrenc and I were chatting and somehow the subject of ecstasy came up. I had never done it. Well, we need to fix that, he said.
So he explained this deal to me, which at first I didn’t quite believe could be true: he knew of a small bar toward the center of town, near the Keizersgracht Square where a drug dealer showed up at midnight every night. He said that the bar was a bit obscure, and it was primarily frequented by Dutch people. The bar was aware of the dealer, and, in fact, they received a percentage of everything the dealer sells. And furthermore, the police were aware of the guy there, but they looked the other way because tourists weren’t buying the shit and getting rowdy and causing problems. The Dutch who did were well behaved.
So we’re going to go to this bar, and Phrenc is going to buy me a tab of e, and a vial of coke for himself so he can stay up—because he had worked until 4am the night before, as a waiter. I didn’t completely believe this would work out, but, hey, I’ll give it a shot.
The bar is a rather dim but nice looking place with old-world character frequented mostly by twenty-somethings. We get there at 11pm and order a beer. He explained, this is your only beer for the night. After that, you drink water. Check. When the guy shows up, Phrenc is going to buy the stuff, come back, and then pass me the tab. I’m to go into the bathroom and bite half. Come back to the bar and sit for a while, see how I feel. If I’m feeling good a half hour later, then pop the rest.
Sure enough, this large black dude in a trench coat shows up at midnight on the dot. (I say black because obviously he wasn’t African American … he was Dutch!) Everyone was going up to the guy, shaking his hand, and being friendly. Phrenc sidles up, gives him a big hug and a handshake with a whisper in his ear and then returns. They made an exchange. Phrenc passes it over, and I do as I was told.
We’re sitting at the bar for a little while just having a normal
con
ver
sa
tion
when
oh!
Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
My leg was pumping, my head was bobbing to the music, and my whole body suddenly felt light and coated in golden honey simultaneously. Oh. My. God. He looked me in the eyes, which must’ve been wildly dilated by then. “You good?” “Oh, I’m am so good.” “Great. Let’s hit it.”
I swallowed the other half, and he walked us out about one block away to an unmarked door. He explained that this was a small nightclub where only Dutch people went, primarily college kids. You had to speak Dutch, or the door guy wouldn’t let you in. It was to keep the tourists away from hitting on the young Dutch people, but because he was Dutch, he would get us both in.
For the rest of the night, everything and everyone was beautiful. The club was small and packed body-to-body. After we walked down a short flight of steps, we turn to the right, and we're right in the center of the bar, a narrow, unadorned rectangle. At one end, the bathrooms, in the middle, the bar was about 15 feet long with about enough space for four people deep, and then at the back, the dance floor which was also small. I’d say you could pack about 40 people on the dance floor and maybe 100 people in the whole place if they were all nearly touching. Which they were.
We went straight for the dance floor. Phrenc actually didn’t dance, he sat on a bench just watching the crowd. By now, I was feeling so loose and free and happy that I was, as the drug said, ecstatic. Floating on a blissful pillow of love. I dove into the crowd and started dancing my ass off. The DJ booth was small and open, sitting right on the dance floor. I remember a beautiful young Asian woman was spinning tunes. To this point in my life, I had only been into punk rock, indie rock, and some experimental music. But suddenly, I understood club music. The repetitive beats set up a rhythm in your body, like a heartbeat, so you can lose your identity and just become one with the energy. The DJ was spinning an amazing mix of trance and world music. Unbelievably perfect. And beautiful like everyone. I think at one point I yelled to her, I love what you’re playing, and she laughed and yelled right back in English, Thank you! Glad you like it! I made friends with the bartender who was a 6-foot-tall blonde goddess. She ended up writing her name on a napkin for me and saying that I could come back to the club any time and show it to the door guy. Even though I don’t speak Dutch, she said, he would let me in. (Btw, it worked. I tried it two nights later.) I kept dancing and getting water, dancing and getting water. Never sat down for a minute. I spun myself into heaven. Everyone was bouncing and moving and happy and there wasn’t a hint of bad vibe anywhere.
At about 4:30, Phrenc said he had to go home and sleep but I didn’t want to stop so I ended up closing the club at 5:00am. Other than getting a few bottles of water, I had never stopped dancing. I left just as the sun was rising, still buzzed and light as a feather. I floated across the city of Amsterdam, finding my way to her apartment by instinct without a map. Phrenc had given me an extra set of keys, and I let myself in. I climbed up the stairs and lay down on my mattress. Looking up above me, I saw colorful bubbles floating toward the ceiling, a mild hallucination. I drifted off to sleep, my mind as light as the bubbles, and then woke up exactly eight hours later, hopped out of bed, and felt completely refreshed and ready to go out again. Ecstasy!
So the first time I ever did ecstasy was also the best time. Subsequent explorations were close but never quite as good. The environment was about as exciting as you could get my first time, but the primary issue is also that it became harder and harder to get pure MDMA in the States. The chemists were frequently cutting costs by cutting it with speed, Sudafed, aspirin, meth, or other miscellaneous additions.
The first time I did ecstasy was in Amsterdam. I had just received a good job offer after spending the whole summer freelancing. Set my job start date just over two weeks away, so I was at loose ends. No relationship and no need to work because I had plenty of money saved up. So I said, screw it, I’m going to Amsterdam. I had already been to Amsterdam twice before, and it was and still is my favorite city in the world. So I bought a ticket to leave the next day and to stay for two weeks.
I had nowhere to stay, but I knew a couple women who lived in Amsterdam. I had a friend at the time who was an architect from Germany. She lived across the street from me, and I had attended a party at her place about a month prior where I met two friends of hers who were visiting from Amsterdam—Marion and Marianne. I’m not joking. We hung out at the party, and got along swimmingly. They also borrowed my futon to use as their bed.
I call up Marianne that day and say, “Oh, hey, it’s David. You borrowed my futon … right … so, I’m going to be coming to Amsterdam … tomorrow. Do you mind if I crash at your place?” Fortunately, she said I could!
After arriving in Amsterdam, I manage to make my way to her apartment, which was near the Vondelpark area—a beautiful sprawling park toward the southeast end of Amsterdam. It was three flights up an incredibly narrow winding staircase (everything is up a narrow winding staircase in Amsterdam) to her huge old apartment, probably built in the 1700s. (Unlike Americans, the Dutch don’t tear buildings down when they get “old” and replace them with cheap, crappy condos.) She introduced me to her roommate Phrenc (a guy) who lived on the floor above. They set me up with a mattress on a landing just outside Phrenc’s door. For the next week or so, she took me out several times, and I met many of her friends and went to great places unknown to tourists.
It was about a week into it, when Phrenc and I were chatting and somehow the subject of ecstasy came up. I had never done it. Well, we need to fix that, he said.
So he explained this deal to me, which at first I didn’t quite believe could be true: he knew of a small bar toward the center of town, near the Keizersgracht Square where a drug dealer showed up at midnight every night. He said that the bar was a bit obscure, and it was primarily frequented by Dutch people. The bar was aware of the dealer, and, in fact, they received a percentage of everything the dealer sells. And furthermore, the police were aware of the guy there, but they looked the other way because tourists weren’t buying the shit and getting rowdy and causing problems. The Dutch who did were well behaved.
So we’re going to go to this bar, and Phrenc is going to buy me a tab of e, and a vial of coke for himself so he can stay up—because he had worked until 4am the night before, as a waiter. I didn’t completely believe this would work out, but, hey, I’ll give it a shot.
The bar is a rather dim but nice looking place with old-world character frequented mostly by twenty-somethings. We get there at 11pm and order a beer. He explained, this is your only beer for the night. After that, you drink water. Check. When the guy shows up, Phrenc is going to buy the stuff, come back, and then pass me the tab. I’m to go into the bathroom and bite half. Come back to the bar and sit for a while, see how I feel. If I’m feeling good a half hour later, then pop the rest.
Sure enough, this large black dude in a trench coat shows up at midnight on the dot. (I say black because obviously he wasn’t African American … he was Dutch!) Everyone was going up to the guy, shaking his hand, and being friendly. Phrenc sidles up, gives him a big hug and a handshake with a whisper in his ear and then returns. They made an exchange. Phrenc passes it over, and I do as I was told.
We’re sitting at the bar for a little while just having a normal
con
ver
sa
tion
when
oh!
Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
My leg was pumping, my head was bobbing to the music, and my whole body suddenly felt light and coated in golden honey simultaneously. Oh. My. God. He looked me in the eyes, which must’ve been wildly dilated by then. “You good?” “Oh, I’m am so good.” “Great. Let’s hit it.”
I swallowed the other half, and he walked us out about one block away to an unmarked door. He explained that this was a small nightclub where only Dutch people went, primarily college kids. You had to speak Dutch, or the door guy wouldn’t let you in. It was to keep the tourists away from hitting on the young Dutch people, but because he was Dutch, he would get us both in.
For the rest of the night, everything and everyone was beautiful. The club was small and packed body-to-body. After we walked down a short flight of steps, we turn to the right, and we're right in the center of the bar, a narrow, unadorned rectangle. At one end, the bathrooms, in the middle, the bar was about 15 feet long with about enough space for four people deep, and then at the back, the dance floor which was also small. I’d say you could pack about 40 people on the dance floor and maybe 100 people in the whole place if they were all nearly touching. Which they were.
We went straight for the dance floor. Phrenc actually didn’t dance, he sat on a bench just watching the crowd. By now, I was feeling so loose and free and happy that I was, as the drug said, ecstatic. Floating on a blissful pillow of love. I dove into the crowd and started dancing my ass off. The DJ booth was small and open, sitting right on the dance floor. I remember a beautiful young Asian woman was spinning tunes. To this point in my life, I had only been into punk rock, indie rock, and some experimental music. But suddenly, I understood club music. The repetitive beats set up a rhythm in your body, like a heartbeat, so you can lose your identity and just become one with the energy. The DJ was spinning an amazing mix of trance and world music. Unbelievably perfect. And beautiful like everyone. I think at one point I yelled to her, I love what you’re playing, and she laughed and yelled right back in English, Thank you! Glad you like it! I made friends with the bartender who was a 6-foot-tall blonde goddess. She ended up writing her name on a napkin for me and saying that I could come back to the club any time and show it to the door guy. Even though I don’t speak Dutch, she said, he would let me in. (Btw, it worked. I tried it two nights later.) I kept dancing and getting water, dancing and getting water. Never sat down for a minute. I spun myself into heaven. Everyone was bouncing and moving and happy and there wasn’t a hint of bad vibe anywhere.
At about 4:30, Phrenc said he had to go home and sleep but I didn’t want to stop so I ended up closing the club at 5:00am. Other than getting a few bottles of water, I had never stopped dancing. I left just as the sun was rising, still buzzed and light as a feather. I floated across the city of Amsterdam, finding my way to her apartment by instinct without a map. Phrenc had given me an extra set of keys, and I let myself in. I climbed up the stairs and lay down on my mattress. Looking up above me, I saw colorful bubbles floating toward the ceiling, a mild hallucination. I drifted off to sleep, my mind as light as the bubbles, and then woke up exactly eight hours later, hopped out of bed, and felt completely refreshed and ready to go out again. Ecstasy!
October 25, 2012
Good as a stocking filler for old skool ravers.
This is a fine looking little book. It is well laid out with a good choice of illustrative pictures, particularly the catalog of pills. It starts of really well, with the first few chapters looking at the discovery of ecstasy, governmental responses and the physical and psychological effects of its use. These chapters are informative, interesting and a great antidote to the one sided view of ecstasy often presented in mainstream media.
After that it more or less turns into a padded out list of ecstasy related popular culture reference points. So we have Detroit techno and Chicago house (check), Danny Rampling going to Ibiza (check) and on. That’s all well and good, and it could be considered an omission not to document this stuff. However the problem is, this side of things has been covered so extensively elsewhere. It starts to get dull, with a feeling of 'I know all this already'.
As the author continues down this chronology route, the plight of the book ironically parallels the pills themselves, in that it all gets progressively weaker. This culminates in name checking the film ‘It’s All Gone Pete Tong’. Similarly, although the book was published in 2008, the story seems to end with Fatboy Slim. I presume this is because that is where the author’s knowledge from experience dwindles. In this way, the tale goes mainstream towards the end, where perhaps other avenues could have been explored.
This is a fine looking little book. It is well laid out with a good choice of illustrative pictures, particularly the catalog of pills. It starts of really well, with the first few chapters looking at the discovery of ecstasy, governmental responses and the physical and psychological effects of its use. These chapters are informative, interesting and a great antidote to the one sided view of ecstasy often presented in mainstream media.
After that it more or less turns into a padded out list of ecstasy related popular culture reference points. So we have Detroit techno and Chicago house (check), Danny Rampling going to Ibiza (check) and on. That’s all well and good, and it could be considered an omission not to document this stuff. However the problem is, this side of things has been covered so extensively elsewhere. It starts to get dull, with a feeling of 'I know all this already'.
As the author continues down this chronology route, the plight of the book ironically parallels the pills themselves, in that it all gets progressively weaker. This culminates in name checking the film ‘It’s All Gone Pete Tong’. Similarly, although the book was published in 2008, the story seems to end with Fatboy Slim. I presume this is because that is where the author’s knowledge from experience dwindles. In this way, the tale goes mainstream towards the end, where perhaps other avenues could have been explored.
June 19, 2018
Started off alright as the history of the drug starts but then when it moves towards the music (raves) side of things it becomes clear that it's written by an American. And we all know American's know shit all about raving!
The music might have originated in 'Merica, but us Brits are the ones who pioneered the rave scene.
The section on the different kind of E's is laughable, all ones found in New York! Wow!
No mention of White Doves, Dennis the Menaces, Snowballs, Mitzi's....
Towards the end of the book it seems to have been written by a child.
The music might have originated in 'Merica, but us Brits are the ones who pioneered the rave scene.
The section on the different kind of E's is laughable, all ones found in New York! Wow!
No mention of White Doves, Dennis the Menaces, Snowballs, Mitzi's....
Towards the end of the book it seems to have been written by a child.
May 5, 2016
This was pretty bland. Learning about Ecstasy itself and how it affects the mind was pretty cool, but the author focused so god damn much on the music scene and it felt like one big nostalgia trip more than an actual history. The "Serotonin Stories" were cool as shit, though.
Like most nostalgia heavy things, this book made me feel a longing of sorts, like I've missed or am missing out on something.
Like most nostalgia heavy things, this book made me feel a longing of sorts, like I've missed or am missing out on something.
July 4, 2021
A dry text, offering names of people, places and things in the short-lived E scene, often with little to no context. Photo captions printed sideways on the page, perpendicular to the main text. To call this one a starting point to the culture and history of Ecstasy (as the author does in the intro) is putting it mildly. Suitable for its bibliography and textured cover.
October 24, 2014
Great little book. Easy and fun read that gives a great overview of the history of ecstasy. It’s also full of beautiful color pictures that help visualize the history.
I read it to help with a college paper/speech that was about ecstasy. I got an A and this book helped.
I read it to help with a college paper/speech that was about ecstasy. I got an A and this book helped.
January 12, 2016
e, the incredibly strange story of ecstasy by Tim Pilcher (Running Press 2008)(306.1) is a thorough summary of the history and culture of the end of the 20th century's most popular psychedelic substance. My rating: 6.5/10, finished 1/22/14.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews