AN OPEN LETTER

To, the dull dancefloor residents

Let me get this straight, isn’t the point of going out on a weekend so you can enjoy yourself?

Maybe my idea of fun is different to yours, but I think we can agree that it at least involves a bit of smiling, laughter maybe and just a little dancing. You are at a dance music event after all, not a library.

So many house and techno events now are filled with a sea of non moving, monochrome clad individuals. When did the fun get sucked out of nights out? We are meant to be a boundary breaking, controversial subculture full of energy – not a bunch of people looking like they’re waiting in the queue to a grocery store. Really now, come on guys.

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The regulars of the Paradise Garage and Studio 54 would call us pussies the way we go on. Gone are the days of dancing like no-one was watching, now it’s standing still because everyone is watching (and probably filming on their phone). Dancing used to be a rite of passage, a real release at the end of the week resulting in clubs all over being full of sweaty foreheads and achey feet. And that’s just the way it should be, and the reason why DANCE music gets its name. Any form of proper grooving nowadays gets demonized by the cool crew – regardless of where I stand on the matter, the surge of ‘shuffling’ discrimination does wonders to prove that dancing isn’t accepted anymore.

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Let me back track a little; if you don’t know what I’m talking about with Studio 54, I’m on about the days of DISCO, part of what helped to form the culture which we now all consume. Moulding nightlife as we know it, disco clubs were a place for all of those who didn’t fit in to the accepted society as it was to come together and enjoy living. Weekends were the time to shine, and boy did you with extravagant outfits. Tight metallic fabrics coupled with revealing cuts topped off with a helping of sequins, the bigger the better, was standard Saturday uniform (and that was just the men) If your outfit wasn’t enough to make you stand out, then your dance moves would complete the display of self expression. Need we even mention a certain Bianca Jagger choosing to ditch the taxi and enter the club on a horse? Nothing less than outrageous hedonsim was accepted, thank you very much.

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So ok, maybe it’s not so practical to ride your pony to the club, and I admit, rocking up doing the Saturday Night Fever finger point might get you some funny looks – but at least some effort could be made with the clothes.

Just because a club is dark it doesn’t mean you have to blend it with the ‘all black everything’ standard attire. Given, it’s a trend, I get it, but I thought clubbing was meant to forget about all that. Making an effort is fun, normal is mundane. I know who I’d rather have at my party…

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Any sense of differentiation and self-expression, what this culture used to stand for, as any subculture does is being diluted in a sea of coolness.

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Let go and let’s bring some raw energy, and love back to clubbing!

It’s a very powerful and effective tool, known to lead to excessive good times,

Which is what we all want, right?

 

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