Covid-19 and the Crises of Closing Nightclubs: A Review Dundee V&A's Night Fever
Words by Keyona Fazli. Images by Keyona Fazli and Mia Foale, Editor in Chief
A few weeks ago my friend and I spontaneously decided to visit the “Night Fever” exhibition at Dundee V&A . It had been over a year since both of us had been to a club.
When I think of nightclubs, I often think of sweaty, dark, enclosed spaces with copious amounts of human contact. Loud, pumping techno, rap, and house music dominates this scene, and the smell of alcohol. This may sound slightly unseemly, but at its heart lays a collective youth culture of movement to a beat. Dancing has, for centuries, been a form of the expression of joy across many cultures around the world. In Scotland, our university home, Highland dancing is of paramount importance to Scottish tradition and culture. A skilled Highland dancer is historically said to possess the greatest agility, strength, and stamina. Moving eastward, from as early as 6000 BC, dance in Iran was a way to promote the ‘vigour of life’. German dances of the eighteenth century, including the waltz, developed from German and Austrian regional dances such as the Dreher, Ländler, and Deutscher – all an integral part of German identity. Delving into the history of dance on such a global scale allows us to understand more about our contemporary experiences with nightclubs. It’s clear to see: dancing is universal. I am sure you can put two and two together, but I will say it for those of us who haven’t had their morning coffee, but dancing, along with music, is the biggest part of club culture.
Now, let’s get to this experience. Greeted with a giant neon ‘discotheque’ sign, I wasn’t too sure of what this exhibit would entail. Quickly we discovered that this exhibit was a comprehensive insight into the history of nightclubs from 1960. There were video clips, audio clips, miscellaneous magazines from each decade, and pieces of recovered furniture from the very first ‘clubs’ to exist. Vinyl’s and invite cards were scattered across the rooms, with the entire walls of the final room covered in hand-written messages, postcards, and posters. In the centre of the exhibit was a mirrored room, lit with flashing lights that resembled (to the best of its best ability) the lights of a nightclub. Headphones hung from the ceiling and from one side to the other, visitors could listen to popular techno, house, disco, and pre-disco tracks. This time-capsule of music travel was quite frankly the most exciting time I have had over the last year and a half. It was the first time I had danced publicly, though it was in a most unexpected setting. It felt good to let loose.
What surprised me the most about the European nightclubs of the 60s and 70s was the dedication to each and every aspect of the building, from the colour choices to the furniture. Signature pieces, such as the pink chairs and tables in Bolzano, contributed to the overall ‘vibe’ of the club itself. Frequented by the rich and famous, these clubs were not only a place of socialisation but also the pinnacle of chicness for the up-and-coming European youth. “The people make the place” certainly rang true in these night scenes. Other projects such as Space Electronic came to fruition in the late 60s, with the space race taking the spotlight in all aspects of culture. Florence, amongst other Italian cities, became a hub for club culture, with Space Electronic in particular being inspired by New York’s discotheque aesthetics. The architecture of these locations was often particular, from the black and white tiled bathrooms replicated endlessly by parallel-facing mirrors, to the strobe lights and engine pieces from junkyards scattered around the rooms. Centred around all things space, it comes as no surprise that the moon landing was broadcasted live in the club, with hundreds partying the night away. The 60s took everything to extremes: several sources note the recently uncovered footage of great orgies on the dance floor of Space Electronic – indeed, a time before mass concerns about STDs. Expression, in every sense of the word, was key; relatively unknown musicians could be booed offstage as audiences began to develop rich musical tastes, allowing them to distinguish if a performer did not fit the ‘vibe’ of the venue.
Nightclubs began to experiment with art, attracting their audience with minimalist posters and invites; nightclubs such as The Palladium in New York City sent out a box of puzzle pieces to the guests in 1985, which when completed, held the club’s location. From fine line drawings on white backgrounds to futuristic designs of extra-terrestrials in neon colours, clubs were places of experimentation and progress. Fashion became inextricably linked to club culture, as by the 1970s, designers like Halston and Steven Burrows created pieces for the grand entrances and openings of clubs. Discos, which were often set up inside former cinemas or theatres, became the runways of street fashion and music and movie legends, such as members of the Rolling Stones. In the Unites States, while disco, as both a music genre and an expression of style, was curated and cultivated by Black and LGBTQ+ Americans, its commercialisation and subsequent disco ‘wave’ was triggered by the 1977 film Saturday Night Fever.
Live music dominated the club scene, with four or five bands performing every evening at clubs, from established groups like Theaudience and Canned Heat, to singers such as Rory Gallagher. Club owners took inspiration from the music charts: in 1971 Munich, The Yellow Submarine disco was (naturally) named after the Beatles’ album and film. The project was architecturally complex, as the club appeared, from the outside, as its namesake – a very large yellow submarine.
These spaces gave black and LGBTQ+ artists the freedom to explore the unknown. Clubs thus became a safe space for outsiders to openly express themselves. The disco movement gave way to house music in the 80s. House itself was founded within the club scene; the name is a reference to its origins in a Chicago club called Warehouse. There began a shift from architecturally complex buildings with theme-specific décor to the ‘post-industrial’ aesthetic of empty warehouses. A product of gentrification – the process of wealthy movement into poorer urban areas – abandoned buildings in inner cities became the perfect setting for techno clubs. Where house found its origins in 1980s Chicago, techno was, soon after, born in Detroit, a subculture of underground dance music. Techno music took technology and melded together black American styles of music, including house, funk, and electronic music. Club music, as we know it today, is a mix between house, techno, and EDM (electronic dance music) and is often thought of as ‘white’ party music, but these genres deserve to be remembered as music created by black Americans.
When walking around the exhibit, the ebbs and flows of disco clubs were made very clear: the trajectory of almost every famous nightclub was a project failure after just over a decade. This prompted me to question, why? After the exhibit, I went home and read a few articles – I have sourced these after this article – but to sum up, the problem of nightclubs closing has not changed. In the 80s and 90s, the main reason for their closure was housing and financial issues. The only startling difference between then and the present day closures are the fact that individuals are increasingly in favour of solitary entertainment (that, and millennials seem to be obsessed with making babies). Music streaming services and the popularisation of regular festivals have resulted in the steady decline of the demand for nightclubs. With a far higher and more predicable income source, there is no longer as strong of a desire to showcase unknown talents. Where one club would shut down and in its place three more would open in the 80s, the lack of gentrification as well as the ever-present economic crises have left club owners unable to find or finance projects.
At this point in the article, you have probably deduced, if you didn’t believe so already, that clubbing and club culture have formed an irreplaceable part of modern society, from their contribution to music, fashion, art, and architecture, to the effects they have on youth lifestyles. We have, alas, unfortunately reached a stage where the value of historic clubs, alive for decades, have been diminished. With the closure of more and more venues, there is a large risk of the night scene being wiped out in the next twenty years. Countries like Germany have taken measures to recognise the significance of nightclubs by declaring them cultural institutions, protected by the state. This not only cements the integral nature of nightclubs to contemporary and generational German culture, but it is a form of financial protection during difficult times. Queue the pandemic.
In a time where we are a society were physically unable to socialise, there was an inevitability in the permanent closures of nightclubs. The more people I speak to, the more I realise the shift that isolation and national quarantining has caused. There is, on one side, people who feel robbed of their twenties, people who desperately want to get back to drinking and dancing the night away. On the other side of the spectrum lie those who no longer feel the desire to spend their time clubbing; the lockdowns have brought out an introverted side to them, a side that would much rather stay home and watch Netflix. The clubs that are still in business today struggle in part as a result of the need to reinvent their image, to follow flash trends and battle against the instantaneous gratification brought on by social media. Will club culture truly die out in the near future? Or is there an inherent part of humanity that will forever scream out in favour of music and dance? I think so. Or I would like to believe so. Let us hope we are still here long enough to find out.
“Night Fever: Designing Club Culture” is at V&A Dundee until 09/01/2022.