The Cultural Value of Clubbing
Out of all the aspects of life to be decimated by COVID-19, the nightlife industry has, internationally, had it pretty rough, often facing upwards of five months without a stable penny back into the pocket.
From Seoul to the Netherlands, the story is the same: across the world, beloved halls of hedonism are closing their doors forever, with countless more in the wings clutching at straws, reduced to pleading for contributions from regular revellers to save the hope of future events — but, sadly, it’s nothing new.
On UK soil, Bristol has had it particularly hard, despite praise the South-West cultural centre receives from national and international press. Major establishments that have been operating for decades closing shop in the last couple of years, with many more teetering on the brink.
The hot topic is the closure of Lakota, which I’ll get to later, but there’s essays to be written on Motion’s future jeopardised by gentrification, the closure of Blue Mountain, and hidden gems such as The Surrey Vaults that were forced to close due to noise complaints from the freshly-built expensive apartments — the latter incurring full-scale and righteous rioting from furious locals.
It leaves a question hanging in the air: what do we gain from clubs, as a collective people? The answer will no doubt vary for each individual, and to this individual the possibilities seem more numerous than one can fit into a single article.
There’s little doubt that nightclubs, internationally, have shaped the way society behaves as a unit in the modern day. The birthing of house music in the States led to the creation of locations such as the Paradise Garage, it’s hallowed room home to the displaced and disaffected. The Garage homed predominantly black and queer subcultures in a city that persecuted them, and across the club’s active era, inspired and bound a generation of creatives together — even if they never received an invitation.
There’s a myriad of examples of this across the world, and rather than dive into a history lesson to regurgitate publicly-accessible information, I’d like to offer a look at what clubs offer nowadays, for one reason above others: it seems the purpose of nightclubs has changed, over the years.
It’s still a truth that, in the arts world, nightclubs are still the places to be — melting pots where you can bump heads and swap ideas with marvellous creatives whilst getting out of your minds in forgetting the outside world. Berlin’s (in)famous creative stew seems forged on these connections.
However, as clubs have opened up to the casual Googler, things have become problematic, often incurring undue criticism. Many forget that Berghain was predominantly a home for queer people in the beginning — ironically, often the same people that moan about the apparently opaque door-keeping policies. How else do you protect the individuals who need these locations?
FOLD in London does much to protect these minority cultures, from the lockers replacing cloak rooms (allowing for much more elaborate outfit changes) to the Sunday UNFOLD parties, it has made itself a relatively unique home for the queer community in London. Those in doubt only need to look at who rallied support for FOLD when threatened with closure from Newham Council.
The significance of clubs seems most prevalent when their existence is threatened. The vibrant communities of all shapes which rely on their spaces voice their horror, and only hardened conservatives knuckle down in their pursuit of closure. Sadly, it seems we’re faced with all too many of these lately: a lethal combination in hand with drastic underfunding in light of COVID-19.
It’s a good time to take stock of what we — collectively — get from nightclubs. Of course, to many they’re doubtlessly the best places to get a little wobbly, whilst catching performances that open our minds to creativity and freedom in a way that is unparalleled in society. Beyond this, though, the important grounds of safety they provide to LGBTQIA+ communities must be stressed.
Countercultures are born there, threatening dulling status quos and providing platforms for new thought that better reflect today’s society. Paradise Garage — and Detroit and Berlin as entire cities — proved that these mindsets gradually bleed across into popular culture, however painful the transition period, or the memories of greater freedoms in hindsight.
So, of course it’s sad when the doors close for the last time. Bristol’s had more than its fair share of closures in recent years, and Lakota’s closure is especially bitter, predominantly for the fact the club has been a staple of the nightlife in the country for nearly three decades.
Amongst the outcry, however, the context of closure is a somewhat different one to The Surrey Vaults’. This time, it seems that the management have simply had enough, and are looking for a route out of the clubbing industry without having to watch new hands change the legacy of the club.
That said, the proposition for AAA-grade accommodation in the delightfully scummy area of Stokes Croft is more than suitable grounds for argument. Thanks to semi-successful petitioning, the public did mitigate the major excesses of gentrification, but it’s by no means a victory for the community of Stokes Croft and St Pauls. It’s saddening to see the club depart with such disregard for the communities they have upheld for so many years.
As important as it is to celebrate clubs, it’s also important to keep reality in check, and closure opens a great opportunity to reflect and improve. My personal take is that many nightclubs in the UK veer too heavily towards capitalistic goals: places like London’s Fabric and Printworks shift drinks at extortionate prices, and while the main crowd predominantly practices safe recreational drug use, this is more problematic than progressive when faced with the militant approach necessary to remain in line with the conservative policy that continues to define our government’s standpoint.
My key gripe with clubbing in the UK is that the spaces themselves press club-goers into heavy consumption. Very few of these spaces are more than a room with a bar, decks and a soundsystem, and perhaps a smoking area — listed in order of management’s priority. Berlin may have a little more space to play with, but a lounge area in a nightclub might just help persuade someone that perhaps right now isn’t the best time for that second pill or 10th shot.
What’s not essential, in the grand scheme of things, are the bricks and mortar spaces. These can be replaced, and although the old guard will struggle to love the new rooms, devoid of familiarity, the old ghosts running through the corridors, the basic truth is that this will happen, like it or not.
What is becoming clearer and clearer, however, is the requirement to protect and preserve clubs as a cultural staple. Statistics have been rattling off the walls around the benefit of the nightlife economy, but if I talk from my heart, I feel this is playing by the enemies’ rules.
Numbers, graphs, economical reasoning — this is the game for politicians and governments. We already know that measuring a country by its GDP is a desperately lacking measuring stick. Nightclubs undoubtedly provide income and employment, and sustain a huge economy which people of all ages participate in, but, it’s important to remember that their main duty isn’t this, rather the creative and cultural contributions to society. It cheapens their value to talk about it in terms of paper.
It’s vital that governments recognise the non-economic benefits of the nightclub industry as equally as they must realise their value for the books. As a subculture within this country, perhaps we’ll never be allowed to step toe-to-toe with the mainstream — but this is not what we should be shooting for in the first place.
The world is shifting away from the desperately aged neo-liberal ideals of the last five decades. Economics has been tainted by these chalk-marks for too long already, and by the same factor club culture has been marred, perhaps irreparably.
But, it’s a good thing to remember that more often than not, the old does eventually make way for the new — and nightclubs over the world always find ways to make the right moves forward.
Written by Freddie Hudson
Freddie is an independent music journalist, typically found writing for electronic music platform Inverted Audio. Once a Londoner, now living in Prague, he's always keeping an ear open for exciting music old and new. He runs the PAIJATA radio show for non-club/ambient music on Netil Radio.