Thinking about going out out for New Year’s Eve? You might have to make alternative plans. According to some particularly overheated sections of the press, British nightlife is dying. “The UK,” The Times recently declared, “[has] stopped partying.”
Research from the Night Time Industries Association (NTIA) shows that the number of clubs in the UK has dropped by 37 per cent since March 2020. Right now, a club shuts its doors for good every two days. If we keep going at the current rate, there might be no more nightclubs by 2030.
But something doesn’t add up. Dance music is bigger than ever, the British Phonographic Industry (BPI) says. In 2022, it declared that dance music was the second most popular music genre in the UK after pop, with acts like LF System and Eliza Rose topping the charts. British DJs like Fred Again and Jamie xx sell out venues across the world.
This year’s most inescapable album was Charli XCX’s Brat, with party starter tracks like “360” and “Guess”. So if nightlife is dead and buried, what accounts for the popularity of dance music? Are people sticking on punishing industrial techno while they unwind with a glass of wine after work? Are they putting on club classics while they relax in the bath?
As long-time readers of the column will know, I’m a self-confessed night owl. I’ve danced in sweaty pillbox-sized basements and cavernous superclubs alike and I’ve always regarded the pronouncements that nightlife is on its last legs with skepticism.
Understandably, such declarations make for great copy. For clubbers who may have traded in sticky trainers and entry wristbands for gentler pursuits, they also tap into a perfect blend of nostalgia and generational outrage – feckless millennials and clean-living Gen Zs killed nightlife!
But anyone who’s wandered around Glastonbury’s so-called Naughty Corner between the hours of 1am and 6am will know that the youthful urge to dance and make mischief is alive and well, if not walking in a slightly sideways fashion. What’s undeniable is that the demands of modern-day clubbers look different.
Financial demands and the constraints of the working week are more pressing than ever. People would rather save up for blow-out nights and weekenders with big-ticket DJs – reliable headliners that are guaranteed fun, in other words – than take the chance on a random night out.
Day parties, where you start at lunch and end the night by a civilised 10pm, are more popular than ever. After clocking that clubbers want more bang for their buck, club promoters are now putting on workshops, art installations and marketplaces as part of their night. I attended an indoor day festival recently that even had its own mahjong tournament.
The dominance of superclubs like Fabric is also long gone – nowadays you can find dancefloors in pubs, bars and small music venues. The demand for dance is far from extinguished. Don’t believe me? Take author Dan Hancox’s advice: Go to listings website Resident Advisor and see how many nights are on in London. There are almost 240 nights happening this weekend alone. There are 65 more listed on the events app DICE.
That isn’t to say that clubs aren’t facing existential challenges. It’s just that they can’t be entirely pinned on generational differences, like the fact that younger clubbers tend to drink less.
In London, where I live, late-night music venues are under constant threat from developers and residents, who seem to love the vibrancy associated with nightlife until it starts interfering with their eight hours a night.
The NTIA is campaigning for the extension of business rates relief beyond April 2025 to help clubs weather the storm, and argue that longstanding cultural landmarks like Ministry of Sound should be recognised as National Portfolio Organisations (NPOs) and receive support from the £446m Arts Council England budget.
All the doom and gloom may have an unintended effect. These apocalyptic predictions might be so unremittingly grim that they may inadvertently drive punters away. Instead, nightlife lovers should talk up the positives.
Here’s what we stand to lose if all clubs go under: that magic sensation of losing yourself in a crowd, feeling the hard edges of your worries evaporate as the bass throttles your eardrums. That heart-stopping thrill as you hear “your” song come on while you’re in the smoking area, and the rush to make it back inside before the chorus starts. Hell, even the chaotic conversations and friendships struck up in the queue for the toilet.
All of these should be celebrated while they’re still with us – not mourned like they’re already gone.
Zing Tsjeng is a journalist, non-fiction author, and podcaster
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