Some tracks age like fine wine. Others, like Joey Beltram’s Energy Flash, skip the aging process altogether and somehow arrive fully formed - raw, unrelenting, and decades ahead of their time! Some early classics remain classics but certainly sound dated - maybe by their drum programming or 303 pattern - but Energy Flash could be played to newbies in a club tonight and still sound underground, dangerous and completely fresh!
Now, 35 years on from its original 1990 release, Energy Flash still hits like a runaway freight train. It’s a track that defined a genre, rewired dancefloors, and soundtracked many a wide-eyed night in the darkest corners of club culture. And let’s be honest - it still sounds absolutely mental.
For me, Energy Flash wasn’t just another techno banger. It was the techno banger. I grew up in the South Wales valleys, was 12 years old in 1990, and was exposed to techno via a TDK cassette simply marked "Rave Music". It was given to my brother who was four years older than me by one of his mates. His mate wore flares and had curly curtains - he was fully invested in the scene!
The bass was low, the vibe was dark, and those "ecstasy, ecstasy" vocals weren’t so much an invitation as they were a command.
It was minimal, yes - but not in the stripped-back, bleeps-and-bloops sense. It was minimal in the way a sledgehammer is minimal. Uncomplicated, blunt, and impossible to ignore. And when those sinister synth stabs kick in? Game over.
Released on R&S Records, Energy Flash came at a time when techno was still in its infancy - a transatlantic melting pot of Detroit futurism and European experimentation. But what Joey Beltram did, barely 19 years old at the time, was carve out a new sound entirely.
This wasn’t just music. It was function. Pure machinery for the rave. It didn’t care about melody. It didn’t need a hook. It was the hook. That "wow wow, wow wow" sound was just amazing - I'm 47 now and still get a buzz from it - the way the synth changes over time, and the simplicity of it's rhythm - utterly mind blowing.
Suddenly, the dancefloor wasn't a place for hands-in-the-air moments or vocal breakdowns - it was a dark, throbbing, heads-down, teeth-gritted zone of total surrender. You felt this tune before you understood it. And that, in essence, is what techno was always meant to be. I was way too young to experience its effect on the dancefloor the first time around but thankfully its longevity has meant that its been a part of some of the best nights of my life.
To call Energy Flash influential is to wildly undersell it.
It laid the foundation for European hard techno, helped shape the early sound of Warp, and still crops up in countless DJ sets today - usually to devastating effect. Even modern producers, armed with DAWs and endless plugin libraries, rarely manage to replicate the sheer presence of this track. It’s all muscle, no fat. A weapon, not a song.
And that iconic vocal sample? Say “ecstasy” to anyone over the age of 40 who’s spent time in a warehouse and watch their pupils dilate.
Three and a half decades later, it remains a rite of passage. The kind of tune you play for someone when you want to show them what this scene really sounded like. Not the chart crossovers, not the hands-up euphoria, but the pulsing, underground, blood-and-sweat core of it all.
I've lost count of the times I've revisited it - late-night rewinds with mates, road trip soundtracks, and those occasional moments when I just want to remember what the real stuff feels like. And every single time, that rumbling kick and creeping menace pull me right back in.
Joey Beltram may have gone on to release plenty of other iconic tracks (Mentasm, anyone?), but Energy Flash is his Sistine Chapel. A 5-minute slab of dark energy that shaped the sound of a generation - and continues to shape the next.
Here’s to 35 years of Energy Flash - still fresh, still fearless, still flooring it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find a dark room and a very big speaker.
