WHY DO WE DANCE IN 2026?

Historically, techno and house will always go back to queer people of colour who embraced the dance floor as a conduit to express themselves away from religious persecution, and a patriarchal society.

Five years ago, Fred Again and the Blessed Madonna were in conversation where she talked about Covid shutdowns and the effect it had on the electronic music community. Fred Again created his now iconic track ‘Marea (We’ve Lost Dancing)’ highlighting her words.

For those of us who survived Covid, nightlife, club culture, the underground, and Festivals are thriving now more than ever;

or everything is closing and falling apart - depending on what kind of timeline/narrative the algorithm has you addicted to.

As a self proclaimed old school raver (I can just hear all the millennials now, “Ew he said rave - that’s so cringe.”) I wondered about the demise of dancing in club culture even before the pandemic hit.

Firstly, I will admit that I am quite pretentious about dancing. I grew up in a family that appreciated all forms of dancing and within Filipino culture, dancing and singing are very important to us.

I’m still someone who believes that if you’re going clubbing, the main purpose is to dance. I understand that there are moments to take a break, to connect with friends and share a drink or drugs or a smoke, but that is what a chill out room, bathroom or terrace is for. DJs play to a dance floor, and the dance floor is primarily for dancing.

Of course when I go out, I will see people dancing. What intrigues me is the intent, the purpose for people’s movements. And I find that this has shifted over time.

I’m also not talking about the Festival scene per se, where the maximalist aesthetic, concert-style performances with pyrotechnics and fireworks can often create a different kind of dancing experience and intention. What I’m speaking of here are venues that host weekly events and parties, drawing in crowds who make nightlife a part of their lifestyle.

For me, dancing at clubs has essentially always been about two things: healing and communion. And throughout the night, I would oscillate between these two intentions, depending on my mood, the music, and the overall vibe the space was creating.

Quick thought about vibe.

The vibe was never just about what the DJ was playing and rarely ever about who the DJ was. The vibe was the responsibility of both the DJ and the dancers on the dance floor to create and manifest a night that was not just about safe spaces and feeling cute but (ideally) compassion, transcendence and love. It was about creating a world that did not exist outside of the club, away from the constraints of capitalism and arbitrary societal conventions that kept people apart.

Dancing is a special form of communication because it is wordless. It is not tethered to words that work within a structure that often cuts off possibilities. To dance is to interpret a feeling or mood that, in its essence, is a wordless state. What is the word love if we did not make a definition for it? And how many different cultures interpret the word love int heir own way?

The beat is there to move you, the body dances to investigate feelings and emotions,

confront knots that restrict you and hold you back.

Dance exists to rearrange the atoms of your skin and flesh, to push past what you think is possible physically.

Dancing is courageous: it means looking silly, it means exposing yourself.

It feels so good to dance when you’re happy, but it’s even more impactful when you’re feeling sad, when you are dealing with loss and grief, when you’re mad at the world, when life feels unfair.

To let off steam, people go to the gym or take a walk or go on a run. It is a mistake to think that you should only go clubbing when you’re happy. While parties often promote certain ways of beings and ways of showing up and dressing, a club is a space that can hold multitudes.

So that’s the healing part dancing which leads me to communion.

At first I thought dancing was about connection and that part is certainly present, especially when most people are coming to clubs with their group of friends or even when someone is out clubbing with the hopes of hooking up (to put it bluntly).

When I looked up the definition for communion it says: “the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially on a mental or spiritual level.”

The DNA of techno and house will always go back to queer people of colour who never had spaces to congregate and embraced the dance floor as a conduit to express themselves away from religious persecution, and a patriarchal society that privileged white men.

To go dancing on a Saturday night and well into Sunday morning was a spiritual event.

But even if it was just about hooking up, which so often it is for people, there is an art in connecting with someone non-verbally through dance which I find quite special. I am certainly an advocate for people feeling safe in club spaces and it is never my intention to impose my energy on someone. But there is a way to present yourself on the dance floor, while dancing, that communicates an openness with strangers as a way to build communion, to build as sense of unity, even if it’s only for the night.

I think long before Covid, the invention of dating apps, especially in the gay community, really changed the intentions of dancing, since no one needed to “cruise” on the dance floor anymore.

The amount of times you see someone attractive at the club, only to be completely turned off by their dancing…lol

No. I don’t see dancing at clubs much anymore.

And I get it, I’m old, maybe clubs are no longer meant for me and bla, bla, bla…

But from a dance anthropology point of view I find it fascinating.

In the last two weekends I went to two separate club events, both at the same club in Amsterdam but different parties. And there were stark differences between the parties. Of course there were other factors: one party was during the day, the other was a ten-hour marathon which included another after party in another venue. But both parties catered to a predominantly queer and gay community, and the music was also somewhat within the same 90s house genre.

What I noticed in the second party which was very different from the previous week was that while the dance floor was full, the dancing was mostly swaying, and mainly look towards the DJ. There was a sprinkle of conversation (not mad at it) but no movements that indicated a sense of conversation between the music and the dancer other than the obvious build up and drops (insert hands in the air).

I don’t think people dance to explore their own bodies or commune with others anymore. But if that’s not the case, why do people go dancing now? What is its purpose?

People complain that people don’t dance anymore because they’re scared to be surveilled and filmed. And yet people dance and perform for DJ sets that are filmed and posted on YouTube all the time. In the case of these two parties, the first party had a no film policy while the other did not, and I did find the first party more open in its intent to connect with others. Maybe there is something to it.

The community who remembers dancing as a way to heal and commune is aging out. Life sometimes feels like a boxing match where life hits below the belt or sucker punches you into a concussion and you forget what joy feels like, what dancing used to mean or provide.

We forget how spiritual club life can be at its core now that it has been rebranded and repurposed by corporate culture for profit.

Like Yoga and Pilates

You like going out

You see the importance in moving your body

In Dancing

In a space designed not through corporate structures

But the beautiful messiness of creativity

But how tough it is now to go out dancing

Amongst the young, who sway aimlessly in the pretense

The performance

Of being joyful

And so

Like sage personified,

You dance in different corners of the club

In the dark, behind the DJ, in the front, in line at the bar

You smile despite no one is smiling with you

You dance for yourself, the lights in the room, for the people that surround you

You dance to check in with yourself, you dance out of sadness

You dance for people who can’t dance anymore, you dance in memory of

You dance to feel the breath in your lungs

You dance to break down barriers

But all you feel are borders

Will dancing ever come back?

You wonder

And hope