I can pin down the exact moment when I realised the family rave thing was more than just a novelty. I was DJing in a Brixton basement with my not-yet-two-year-old daughter on my shoulders waving her arms enthusiastically, and I dropped into Joe Smooth’s acid house era classic ‘Promised Land’. Immediately, across the dancefloor, several parents grabbed their babies and toddlers and started singing along to them the lyrics about ending violence and striving for a better world. I could hear the singalong from the stage: “brothers, sisters, we’ll make it to the Promised Land”. I could see some people looking distinctly emotional, and I was getting full-tilt tingles down my spine. It was beautiful. And all this at four in the afternoon, with everyone more or less sober. I was hearing things like ‘where’s your other shoe?’ and ‘stop eating glitter, Rory’ Like all rave moments, it was fleeting. Half an hour later, as we started clearing people out of the venue, rather than singing I was hearing things like “where’s your other shoe?” and “stop eating glitter, Rory” and “uh oh, Suzie’s pooed herself” (all eerily reminiscent of scenes from my days going to free parties in 90s [...]