As Boris Johnson laid out the summer roadmap to the end of lockdown, my phone lit up to various versions of the same text: “Clubs are open on June 21st!” The earlier easing dates offering promises of haircuts, barbecues and pub gardens were exciting, but nothing trumped the ultimate freedom card: the return of nightclubs.
The allure of getting back into the nightclub is, superficially, very obvious. The act of clubbing is the complete antithesis of covid-living. Crammed into a small space with hundreds of strangers; dancing, sweating and sharing drinks. It is, in the most beautifully human way, a germ-breeding playground. For some, the focus on nightclubs reopening might seem like an indulgence of one of the shadier parts of the UK’s cultural scene, but nightclubs are more than dark corners for illicit behaviour. Nightlife has a long history of providing escape and liberation for those most in need.
Built in 1886 in New York’s Manhattan, Webster Hall is credited as the first modern night club. Originally commissioned as a ‘hall for hire’ the venue has hosted everything from Labour Union rallies, weddings, meetings, lectures, concerts and, of course, dancing. The hall was traditionally known as a meeting place for leftist, socialist and anarchist activities, with the occasional event for the upper echelons of society. In the 1920s, as Prohibition swept America making the manufacturing and sale of alcohol illegal, Webster Hall became a speakeasy, offering illegal nights out where authorities turned a blind eye to the steady flow of alcohol. Nicknamed the “Devils Playhouse”, the nightclub is said to have become a frequent haunt of well-known cultural figures such as Marcel Duchamp and F. Scott Fitzgerald.
All across America, similar speakeasies opened in defiance of the prohibition. Ranging from fancy clubs to dingy basements, the new venues no longer segregated men and women; the nightclub was becoming a symbol of inclusion, rebellion and decadence. By the 1960s and 70s nightclubs in New York like Studio 54 and Electric Circus had become integral to the city, as a hub for creative types.
In Germany, clubs were booming back in 1920. Rather than searching for rebellion and indulgence, in the wake of the First World War, Germans were looking to escape into the music. As the economy recovered and liberal values were re-discovered, the country entered a period referred to as ‘The Golden Twenties’. Long days at sedentary office jobs left workers with the desire and disposable income to dance away the night in nightclubs. It was the start of Berlin’s famous nightlife scene. Similarly, the post-war economic boom ushered in “Années Folles” or “the crazy years” in France.
Nightlife in 1920s England was in the same vein. Kate Meyrick, a single mother of eight children, infamously ran a string of successful clubs in London during this era. Arrested multiple times for selling liquor without a license, she went on to open the famed 43 Club at 43 Gerrard Street, Soho: a popular club for the likes of J. B. Priestley, Evelyn Waugh and Joseph Conrad.
One hundred years later, and living through a pandemic, appetite for clubbing hasn’t waned. Despite Health Secretary Matt Hancock’s best warnings of “don’t kill Granny”, illegal raves have been reported up and down the country as the police race to shut them down. For the rule-abiding, Club Quaranataene, a virtual club hosting exclusive sets from big-name DJs, has made clubbing more accessible than ever. Complete with a Berghain-style virtual bouncer, an interactive chat-room toilet, a cloakroom to buy merchandise and a bar to donate to Covid-causes, it is the essence of pandemic-safe partying.
But why do we miss nightclubs so much? According to Capital A List, who own a selection of London’s up-market clubs, it has a lot to do with the inherent human enjoyment of dance as both a form of leisure and mating behaviour. This psychology of clubbing is compounded by a 2009 study, which found that the nightclub can be viewed as a lek – a physical space where males congregate to impress females. The study found that over the course of several nights, the number of couples who left a nightclub was significantly greater than the number of couples who had entered the venue. This will be somewhat unsurprising for anyone who has ever attended a club themselves.
Most essentially, though, nightclubs are a place of escapism, where communities and friendships form. Nightclubs have long been a safe space for marginalised communities, they offer judgement-free zones and a chance to be whoever you want to be. They also provide the essential opportunity to socialise with strangers. For young people at university or college, the absence of being able to mingle with diverse groups of people could easily mean the absence of a true group of friends made not out of necessity but genuine connection.
Despite this, nightclubs are still a source of contention for the authorities. Making revenue of over £66 billion per annum (6% of the UK’s total), the nightlife industry is valued economically, but not culturally. And the industry has felt this throughout the pandemic. The Night Time Industries Association (NTIA) surveyed 100 nightclubs and found half the venues claimed to be in more than three months’ rent arrears. Meanwhile, 88 per cent were in two months’ rent arrears and 86 per cent had been forced to make redundancies during the pandemic. Up until last year, the industry made up 8% of the UK’s total employment. For many, the pull to the club is confounded by a desire to get their livelihood back.
Almost a year ago to the day, I went to a club for the last time. Making the excruciatingly long Uber journey from Hackney to Peckham, we headed to Bussey Building to watch my housemate’s colleague DJ. We danced in a spirit of oblivion, amid the foreboding of a pandemic, surrounded by sweaty bodies with the phrase ‘social distancing’ yet to enter our lexicon.
Tales of hedonism in the 1920s are likely romanticised, but that period gives me hope for the future of the nightlife industry. Whether this decade is ‘roaring’, ‘golden’ or ‘folle’, it has high standards to live up to. I am crossing my fingers that the clubs that have survived Covid-19 will reopen at the end of June as planned. We will meet to dance, drink and socialise with friends, old and new, and bask in the freedoms that nightclubs represent.