I vividly remember the last time I entered a mosh pit. The occasion was Nirvana’s last Point Theatre show in 1992, and I was 30 years old. I attended the concert in the company of a younger girlfriend. Though I would have been content to stand mid-crowd and enjoy the show, my friend insisted on making her way toward the front of the stage. As we dodged the accidental pushing and collisions that are the nature of such events we suddenly found a break, an actual empty space, about four rows back from the stage. Dotted around this oasis of space in the packed arena were groups of young men who appeared to be intent on battering the hell out of each other while simultaneously dancing energetically to the music. While it was undeniably a violent spectacle, there was no doubt that the guys were having a great time.

But things turned nasty when a crowd surge pushed my companion and myself and others into the pit. The reaction of the guys already in the pit was interesting. They obviously resented our intrusion into their ‘space’, yet the crowd behind us ebbed and flowed and we found ourselves crushed to the point where breathing became difficult. These seasoned troopers lashed out surgically at the massing crowd, eventually creating enough space to enable us to beat an undignified retreat. Despite being a veteran of many audience fracas at many different types of gigs since the late ‘70s I’d never felt as scared. Specifically, I felt like I might drown. I’ve avoided the pit since. It’s a young man’s game.

Joe Ambrose is in his early 40s. His softly-spoken and polite manner belies his appearance: a six foot plus, heavy set man with a shaved pate and a long goatee beard, he’s dressed in a loose-fitting cotton polo-shirt with black combat trousers and black boot-trainers. He looks like the kind of guy who would survive untouched in a US prison. As he sips his tea in a quiet Dublin hotel lobby (he neither drinks nor smokes cigarettes), he explains to me how he came to write the book.

"I’d been fascinated by US punk like the Ramones and Patti Smith in my youth and there was an association of violent discontent expressed in that music that struck a chord in my teenage years. After that scene died down I remained interested in music in all its forms, and six or seven years ago found myself at a Danzig gig. Pretty much like yourself, my first experience of the mosh pit was an accident. I was trying to get closer to the stage and the fulcrum effect drew me into the ‘pit and it sort of spat me out after a couple of frantic minutes. I felt like I had been in the trenches of World War I. Yet I felt exhilarated by the experience.

“With the rise of Nu-Metal and Rap Metal – not the more commercial outfits like Limp Bizkit and Deftones, but the acts that echo that energy I discovered in punk in my youth, such as And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead and Rancid – I began to attend such gigs and started moshing. I got to know a lot of the kids at those gigs and I liked them a lot. I was attracted to their sense of camaraderie, in particular, their lack of belief that the bands they liked were in any way different to themselves. There wasn’t the adoration or worship factor present that you associate with music fans of other genres, and I thought that was a healthy, intelligent attitude. I’d describe it as a correct cynicism.

"The book came about due to a lecture I gave on mosh pit culture at the Coventry School of Art. The subject was frontiers in art and the reaction to the topic led me to approach some people at Omnibus who thought it was a good idea. It really is a subject that many people know very little about."

It’s fair to say that most mosh pit fans are adolescent teenage boys, but why does Ambrose feel such boys are attracted to the music, and the mosh pit in particular?

"A lot of these kids come from broken homes where there is no real father figure, no appealing masculine role model. So it’s a possibility that they find a means of expressing their masculinity in that arena. There’s also that thing about rebelling against the mainstream by doing something deliberately ugly, in the way that the punk movement adopted the fashion of body piercing with safety pins and the like, which was shocking then but has now been embraced by the mainstream. The mosh pit is undeniably ugly, but whereas that ugliness would appal those people who aren’t familiar with the process involved, it’s that very ugliness that attracts the participants. It’s all part of the very complex mix of pop cultures. In reality, it’s the mirror image of mainstream consumerist pop culture.

"Another consideration in this regard is the cosseted environment in which many young men grow up in today. Kids today are largely cocooned from the dangers of the real world. People aren’t faced with even the most harmless physical challenges, so the danger of the mosh pit is an opportunity to test the self. The chance to get hurt, to get into a rumble, and emerge from that victorious if you will, is very attractive. Sure, there is a violence, but it’s a violence that’s ultimately benign. I’ve met kids in mosh pits and had deep conversations and real interactions, and you’d see those same kids in the high street the following weekend and they’d actually avoid your eye. It’s very much a momentary aberration, much as a drug experience might be for those who take, for example, ecstacy at weekends. It’s a very primal thing, and a very individual thing."

That said, the book graphically reports on instances of ultra-violence straight out of Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange. Eyewitness accounts of sexual assault and rape in the mosh pit at Woodstock in the US in 1999 are documented, and accounts of deaths in mosh pits in the US, Europe and Australia are all included. A particularly shocking episode is depicted in the author’s account of his attendance at a mosh club in New York City where, as well as a conventional mosh pit, there was a second room where serious physical injury, including broken bones and serious blood loss is commonplace.

"Well the consensual violence I saw in the New York clubs is a very different thing to your average mainstream mosh pit,” Joe points out. “Most of the deaths that have occurred at large gigs have been as a result of crowd surges that originate outside of the mosh pit. The same thing happens, and as frequently, at sporting events. The problem is that of containing and protecting a large group of people. In terms of sexual violence, I have witnessed consensual sex in the pit and I’ve described that in the book. I’ve seen young guys crowd surfing and enjoying the abandon of having strangers put their hands inside their trousers and feel them up. Yet there have been allegations of rape and sexual battery arising out of incidences in mosh pits in Europe and the UK. Again, these instances aren’t exclusive to mosh pits. The world is a dangerous place, the mosh pit is no more dangerous than any other arena of contemporary life."

Does Ambrose believe that the mosh pit is a positive thing?

"I believe it’s an absolutely positive thing. For example, I believe in highs, I believe in drugs, and this a natural high that’s anti-sexism, anti-jock culture, anti-homophobia, and ultimately personally expressive. The choice is there for the individual, and if you don’t want to get involved, the simple answer is to avoid the pit."