Let it be known, for the record, that I am not a good dancer. If you’ve ever caught me trying to bust a move, I apologise.

Notwithstanding my terrible dance moves, something is happening to our clubs – to dancing, to music. To all things club, dance, and music culture. Or, is this phenomenon really happening in our culture, as a whole?

Conversations with my friends these days have often veered to club and music culture in both St Andrews and other cities. “No one dances,” one of my friends lamented, as we listened to Saint Entienne in my kitchen, “Everyone knows they’re being watched by everyone else”. I’d never been much of a dance and club fanatic before now, but after meeting a few people that preach house music like it’s a religion (and honestly, who could blame them), and going to a few dj sets in the first weeks of Martinmas, I am now a convert. Though, I feel like I’m late to a party that is slowly dying out.

Scrolling online these days you will find posts, videos, and memes that all subconsciously reminisce on ‘the good old days,’  promoting nostalgia for a past that isn’t even that far away from us. I recently stumbled upon ‘Obama era indie music’ playlists, including Vampire Weekend, Foster the People, BØRNS, Two Door Cinema Club, and old The 1975 and Troye Sivan, to name a few. This era of music has this positive upbeat feel to them: the drums, the foundational indie guitar intros, and even the vocals all sound excited. And that’s just one side of this nostalgia tinged desire for dancing. On the other side, there's past dance and pop music: ‘white girl music.’ I’ve heard more than just a few people kick up a fuss asking “When is Rihanna coming back?”, or who the next Black Eyed Peas, Daft Punk, Britney Spears, and Lady Gagas of our generation will be. This is not to say that there isn’t good music being produced at the moment, and, arguably, the opposite may be true. 

But, when the trending hits on most people’s timelines is the current Taylor Swift album…

I mean no shade (I do), but genuinely – what’s going on? What happened to the iconic era of indie sleaze, and why do we both covet and reject it? 

If you don’t know what I mean by ‘indie sleaze,’ I’m referring to a rebellious and messy aesthetic that defined the youth culture of the late 2000s and early 2010s, where grunge, emo, and indie rock dominated the music and fashion scene. Think ripped tights, skinny jeans, oversized jackets, messy hair and extreme fringes, a non-glamourous, glamourous look you can find in grainy, flash-heavy photos. For people who frequented Tumblr during this time, these photos would often make their way onto the main pages where faces like Alexa Chung, Cara Delevingne, and even ‘King’ Kylie covered pages in heavy eyeliner, dyed hair, questionable fashion choices, and that gorgeous Rio De Janeiro filter we all love. Indie sleaze was a time of fashion and emotional chaos, an unapologetic time to experiment with expression that would likely make us cringe five years down the line.

Though, I feel that’s where the beauty lies – in this messiness. Despite this era being fashionably all over the place with its heavy makeup, infinity scarves, wedge heels, and camouflage everything, this was a time that many consider to be politically stable. As made apparent by the title ‘Obama era indie music’, this time was defined not just by indie rock, emo, and grunge, but also by the political climate. I’m not looking to see this time through rose-coloured glasses – from 2001 till 2017, we experienced re-defining political and cultural events. The early 2000s saw the 2008 financial crash, the West fighting to get their hands on seemingly everything in the Middle East, Brexit, the rise of suicide bombers, and so many more that would make this list too long. In response, however, this rocky time gave us some of the best produced art by creatives.

I’ve heard it said recently that when a recession is on the rise, music flourishes. Think of Black Eyed Peas’ song ‘I Gotta Feeling’, with lyrics like ‘I got my money, let's spend it up’ and ‘I feel stressed out, I wanna let it go/Let's go way out, spaced out, and losin' all control’. Coming off Black Eyed Peas’ album ‘THE E.N.D. (THE ENERGY NEVER DIES)’, released on the first day of 2009, there is possibly no album that better represents a cultural response to the previous year of financial mayhem. This is also true on a more subtle level: Foster the People’s 2010 song ‘Pumped Up Kicks’ in response to the rise of school shootings and the degradation of teen mental health was a cultural force, shaping political discussions through music. Indeed, there was an upbeat feel to many of these songs, yet it was also a way for one to express political discontent whilst letting loose.

These days, however, there seems to be a lack of direction, or understanding about how to feel and express these same feelings in this tortuously tumultuous political environment. Sure, there are standouts such as Hayley William’s new album that calls out the American South on its evangelical racism, but this is not the music you will find blasting at the clubs (that still exist) today. Reflecting back on my friend’s statement that “Nobody dances; everyone knows they’re being watched by everyone else,” I can’t help but painfully agree. Not that 601 is a great example of what clubs are really like, but it’s a limited reflection of the slow death of good club music, and therefore dancing. When the club isn’t heaving, I observe people dancing like bobbleheads, moving their heads more than any other part of their body. Only at some events like Szentek or BPM’s ‘Anscension’, where the music diverts from basic pop songs, do I see people actually moving their entire body.

However, correlation does not always equal causation. An event I went to recently had a lineup of live-bands and DJs, one which I was particularly excited for as he is known for his House sets. The flat that hosted the event was heaving for the opening live-band, and by the time the DJ I had anticipated all day was at his deck, the place was a ghost town. Save for a few individuals who were having the time of their life, it was embarrassingly empty. Despite the good music, the empty space heightened the anxiety of surveillance I was experiencing. I found it difficult to actually enjoy myself; only when a few other friends showed up and started to move with the music did I find myself mirroring their enjoyment. 

This could just be an outlier event. The DJ who was playing is widely popular in Dundee, and so doesn’t go unappreciated, but it was disheartening to see such a good set barely catch anyone’s ears. It’s a possible reflection of St Andrews’ love for live music and the social standing and climbing that comes with it – people seem more interested in what or who they know already, rather than trying something new. However, I do feel that these sort of events are emblematic of the decline of dance music on the whole. Fred again...’s 2021 song ‘Marea (we’ve lost dancing)’ featuring The Blessed Madonna has become indicative of what's happening to our dancing, music, and clubbing culture: it’s fading.

I get it. Actually trying to dance is embarrassing these days. But isn’t that also the point? One of the things we remember most from indie sleaze is a lack of care for how one dressed, looked, and danced. The art of ‘cringe’ and ‘embarrassment’ that has been discussed recently by creatives such as Ocean Vuong and even Austin Butler is ‘an under explored emotion’. We’re all so on edge about being observed today, because anything we do could go viral on social media. We are so desperate to polish our optics we have begun to lose our personalities.

So get up, dance, be embarrassed, forget about it. Rinse, repeat. Because one day, we’ll be wishing for the days where it didn’t really matter at all.