Ask Azari & III something simple about, say, how they got together and within 30 seconds they're waxing lyrical about the King James bible. Or Jamaican parenting techniques. Or the merits of producer Dinamo Azari's "Hitler Bronson" haircut. The Guardian has barely been in a room with the band for five minutes and already the situation is spiralling out of control.

"Church congregations are all drugged!" exclaims Dinamo, AKA Christian Farley, recounting how his friends once got high on frankincense and myrrh, although it's unclear quite how we got to that subject.

Such conversational mayhem is apt for a band whose music seems to be all about losing control, albeit usually in the middle of a nightclub dancefloor. The Canadian four-piece are keen to revive the liberated, anything-goes freedom of 80s rave culture, a halcyon time when the clubbing experience was more about dancing topless with complete strangers than VIP rooms, $12 drinks and guestlist queues. Azari & III ("third") still pine for that period, and have imbued their debut album, reissued this month, with a similar sense of release.

A love of no-holds-barred rave culture, in fact, is practically embedded within Azari's genes. Formed through a shared passion for losing their minds in semi-legal (OK, completely illegal) Toronto warehouse parties, Azari & III consist of two producers, Dinamo Azari and Alixander III (real name Alphonse Lanza), and two singers, Fritz Helder and Starving Yet Full (Cédric Gasaida to his mum). Starving spent his early years in Burundi and Rwanda before moving to Canada and discovering the rave scene later, but the others were there from a frighteningly formative age. Dinamo was "stealing the parents' car" as a 14-year-old and heading to downtown party dens, whereas Alixander stumbled into his first rave while skateboarding outside a Buddhist temple that had been transformed into an all-night, LSD-fuelled blowout. Sadly, the Toronto authorities caught on to the fact that there was money to be made from this dancing lark.

'Our music relates to the warehouse sound: big, dark room, sexy and late-night … And at any point the whole thing can combust' – Dinamo Azari

Photograph: Graeme Robertson

"There's a conservative nature to clubbing in Canada right now," agrees Dinamo. "But our music relates more to the warehouse sound: big, dark room, real sexy and late-night. And you can do whatever the fuck you want: you can smoke, you can do crack in the corner, you can drink all night long and at any point the whole thing can combust."

"There could be a shooting, a fire, a bust," interjects Alixander, with a dark glint in his eye. "You just never know."

Despite, or perhaps because of, their love of partying, Azari & III's rise has been something of a slow burn. Early tracks such as Reckless (With Your Love) and Hungry For The Power impressed DJs in the know as far back as 2009, but word spread slowly as they toured the club and festival circuit. It wasn't until August last year, when their debut album came out through Loose Lips, that Azari gained mainstream traction, launching at a time when other artists such as the 2 Bears were also tapping into the classic house sound. Yet while their album waves a glowstick or two in the direction of classic 90s house records, its innate understanding of the dynamics of the dancefloor make it sound timeless rather than retro.

"We're definitely hoping to catch a wave, for sure," says Dinamo, before dismissing the idea the band are part of any house revival. "To me house music was always a combination of different things. Larry Levan and Frankie Knuckles started mixing up rare analogue music with an African track, then some industrial track they loved … people loved the mix-up of all these rare sounds."

Azari's music crackles with a similar sense of freedom, longing not so much for these fabled formative days of dance culture, but more a universal right to live, and dance, without meddling interference from the government or the stiff rules of conservative society. This is mirrored in Azari's music, both in the lyrics ("Letting loose, going wild, is what I want you to do" goes opening track Into The Night) and also in the wild, abandon-surrendering groove which places the record at odds with the glut of clinical yet cynical "in the club" records pouring out of the post-David Guetta production line.

'Everybody dances self-consciously these days. When I grew up people were freaking out, going out into their own zones, doing the weirdest shit' – Alixander III

Photograph: Graeme Robertson

"You can feel the desperation in those songs," says Starving. "They're so well-produced but you hear them three months later and you want to puke. You go to a club and there's these uplifting messages and vocals … but everyone's so smashed you could be playing anything."

"Everybody dances self-consciously these days," adds Alixander. "When I grew up people were freaking out, going out into their own zones, doing the weirdest shit. Nobody cared about anyone else looking."

Fritz: "When I hear a song now I think, 'OK, I don't care who's around me, I'm letting it out because this is my jam!'"

Starving: " … whereas the new dance is more like this [adopts a stiff and nervous posture] … you have a drink in your hand and you're not going to spill it."

Fritz: "Because it cost you $12!"

So how to rescue a stagnant club culture?

"They just need to cure Aids," says Fritz, instantly. "You cure Aids and suddenly you're having sex whenever you want to have sex. You're not going to a club looking for it, you're only going to dance."

"If you're worried about your body's motivations then you're not going to transcend on the dancefloor," says Alixander, before deciding that we also "need more transvestites. Back in the day the best parties were hosted by the most out-there people … since they went away, clubs just became a straight pick-up zone."

'Gay culture is dying because gay people don't want to be gay any more. They don't want to be "over there"' – Fritz Helder

Photograph: Graeme Robertson

"Gay culture is dying because gay people don't want to be gay any more," says Fritz, warming to the theme. "They don't want to be 'over there', they want to be part of the thing. You can't tell who is [gay] and who isn't, which is good in one way, but then not in another because there aren't those destinations any more."

From here, the conversation somehow swerves down another side alley. "Parents need to stop being afraid of kids crying," says Fritz.

Alixander nods: "In Thailand you have kids who are four years old with jobs; they're not treated like little vegetables. Grow up!"

You think the new generation of kids is too soft?

"Sallow, bags under their four-year-old eyes, eating Wonder Bread, not exercising, playing videogames," says Alixander.

"Those kids are going to grow up to be little blobs," says Fritz.

"And then that's your boyfriend?" Alixander adds, "This little fuck? I don't think so …"

Cue group hysterics, before Fritz darkens the mood. "I got beat as a child, like properly beat up, thrown across the room … but every time it happened it was because I deserved it."

"Woah!" screams Dinamo. "This is turning into counselling!" It's certainly an unexpected diversion into the world of child-rearing, we suggest.

"The next album will be all about how to discipline children," blushes Starving Yet Full, as Azari resolve to focus the conversation towards more music-related questions. After all, we only have five minutes left. Just enough time to talk about where they want to take their sound. Or their favourite records. Or the support slot they've landed on Madonna's forthcoming tour.

Then Alixander pipes up: "Hey, did I ever tell you about the rabbis in LA who perform uncircumsised marriages?"