Who’s out dancing on a weekend? All around the country nightclubs fill up with (mainly) young people bouncing until the small hours to amplified bass, getting intoxicated and, maybe, copping off. Yet there’s another, less visible network of clubs where people dance more formally – think salsa, tango, ballroom, jive. Here there is a wider age range, less drinking and lower decibels, and everyone’s likely to be done before midnight. I went to three of them to find out who goes there – and why.
My first stop was Swing Patrol, which runs classes and socials in London, Sydney, Melbourne and Berlin. At its social in the marvellously atmospheric Wilton’s Music Hall in east London, the first people I meet are an upbeat group of twentysomethings who would not be out of place in a nightclub, if it weren’t for the retro frocks and dapper waistcoats. They’re here on a birthday outing for local girl Anna, 27. She’s come because “It’s an amazing venue, and really friendly. I thought everyone would love it.”
They do love it – the place, the music, the buzz. “You could go to a pub for your birthday,” says Anna’s friend Dave, “and have some drinks and be shouting in the corner of a bar. Or you can come to something like this, where you make new friends and get to do something more fun.”
The people and the place are big pluses, then, but don’t they need to know the steps? “It’s not massively important,” says Anna blithely, though they all agree that a few basic moves will get you a long way. Like many social dance nights, Swing Patrol runs a taster session for newcomers at the beginning of the evening (which doubles up as a great icebreaker). “We learned two moves,” says Greg, another of the group, “and then the teacher said, ‘OK, you’re ready for a night of dancing.’”
And were they? “It’s easy to feel anxious at first,” says Dave, “but as soon as you’re dancing that really fades.” That rings true. Out on the dancefloor, some dancers are clearly experts and others just as clearly newbies, but there’s an upbeat, open ambience that makes room for them all.
That includes Pam and Steve, a couple in their late 50s who have come down from Grimsby to spend the weekend with their daughter. But she was off out with her boyfriend on Saturday night, says Pam, “so we thought we’d go out dancing ourselves”. They’ve been learning lindy hop since Pam retired from the NHS last year, and it’s completely changed the pattern of their lives: weekly classes, evenings out dancing – and provided a new social network.
“It helps keeps us fit,” says Pam, “because we’re doing something we enjoy. It keeps your brain active too. And you can really adapt the steps to suit your own level.” But fitness is a byproduct: it’s the enjoyment that keeps them coming back. “The music, the dancing – I just love it!” beams Pam. “And it’s so nice to be among lots of different age groups. It makes you feel young.”
Will they be back? Put it this way: they’re already looking at the calendar to see when they can next come down to “visit their daughter”.
Over at La Carablanca, London’s longest-running Argentine tango club, the atmosphere is as different as the dance style. Where swing is extrovert and outgoing, tango is introvert and subtle, more poetic. Watch the couples revolving around the dance floor like little worlds-unto-themselves, and you sense that the dance is more about inner experience than outward appearance.
La Carablanca also offers tasters for novice dancers. The basic steps don’t look hard – they’re a kind of formalised walking – but turn out to be surprisingly difficult. Thirtysomethings Zuzana and Mario are here on their first visit, and found it a challenge. “Maybe we just have to come again and try to get better,” says Zuzana.
“I will definitely try it again,” says her husband Mario. “I like the tango, it’s quite sexy. But in a serious way.”
It’s the second visit for fortysomethings Tina and Barry. They first did a tango as their wedding dance, and Tina in particular – who used to go out dancing ceroc and lindy hop all the time – has long had a soft spot for tango. “It’s quite difficult even though it’s a slower dance,” she says. “But I really like it – it’s sensual. And it’s quite moody – a bit like like me!” Still, Barry has found it hard going.
“The music and rhythm aren’t necessarily straightforward, and I struggled with the timing,” he says. “And there are a lot of really good dancers on the floor, which can be intimidating.” For this session, they’re content to watch from the sidelines and enjoy the atmosphere. “Obviously we would rather be joining in,” says Tina, “but I don’t think we’re ready.”
Italian friends Mica (43) and Diego (39) are both performers in physical theatre, and talk about tango as a kind of creative challenge. “Each dance is like a relationship,” says Diego. “It’s different with everyone. You have to pay attention to the other, but also to yourself, and to the connection.”
“I think it’s good that there are rules,” says Mica. “Having the men lead and the women follow – that is difficult for me! But it’s interesting too.”
It’s notable that where the swing dancers all talked about atmosphere and energy, the tango dancers talk about “connection” – an almost mystical quality that only emerges between two people when they dance. That sense of interiority can make tango sometimes feel like a closed world to outsiders. “Also,” says Graham, 63, who’s here with Carole, 61, “there is a lot of etiquette surrounding tango that you might not know when you’re new. It’s almost like entering a different culture.” Yet for those on the inside, I sense that is part of the appeal: a shared feeling of belonging.
Both the tango and swing evenings follow the conventional model of couple dancing: a man leads and a woman follows (though the swing dancers were more laid-back about members of the same sex dancing together). But does it have to be that way? Jacky’s Jukebox, at the vintage Rivoli Ballroom in south London, is a monthly evening of ballroom and Latin dancing with a predominantly LGBT following, who don’t play by those rules. Whether you lead or follow, and with whom you dance, is a matter of individual preference, not gender.
Michael and Sean are a couple in their 40s from Colchester, who met on the dancefloor over decade ago. “I was a bouncer at the time,” says Sean, “and had this idea that dancing was a bit ‘sissy’. But I remember thinking: life is short, they’re not going to put ‘Sean danced with a guy in a bar’ on my gravestone!” They took dance classes together for a couple of years. “The teacher was fine with us dancing together if there was nobody else there,” remembers Sean, “but as soon as someone else was there she used to make us dance in the back room.”
“What’s great about here,” says Michael, “is that everyone gets on. There’s old people and young people, there’s obviously a big gay crowd, and there’s transvestites – and everyone gets on through the dancing!”
“That level of acceptance is special,” says Sean. “A lot of my life I had to pretend to be straight, but here people can be as they are.”
I ask Gonzalo, 26, and Trix, 29, who can both dance as either leader or follower, why that flexibility is important for them. “The fact that I always had to lead in traditional clubs because I’m a man – and tall – was really limiting my enjoyment,” says Gonzalo. “But when I found a place where I could follow, I started getting more into dancing.” Trix learned ballroom as a child. “After finishing my exams as a follower, it was like: now you can do them all again ‘as a man’. So I did!” She laughs at the thought. “I really like stepping outside those gender roles,” she adds. “Sometimes people get confused, like: there’s a woman asking me to dance?!”
And does both leading and following make them better dancers? “Oh, definitely!” they chorus. “You learn different skills, you experience things from both sides, you understand the roles better – you’re a better dancer.”
As with the tango and swing nights, it’s not all about the dancing. Colleagues Julia and Rachel – professional violinists in their 50s – come for a drink and a chat as well. “It’s just very relaxed,” says Julia. “It doesn’t matter who you are. It’s all ages, black, white, gay, straight, and everybody dances together. It’s very accepting.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” says Trix, “if more of the world was like that?”