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From trance titans to dubstep pioneers, more and more dance artists and DJs are becoming involved in politics. But can dancing really make a difference?

Words: Joe Muggs
Photos: Rex/ Tom Horton

The atmosphere was electric! I’d never felt such a concentrated positive energy. People from every walk of life and background were united...”

It’s the sort of thing you’ve probably heard DJs say a hundred times before, but this time we’re not talking about the summer of ’89, or any other hoary old acid house reminiscence. This is Optimo’s JD Twitch recounting his visit to the Occupy Wall Street encampment last summer.

2011 was a hell of a year by any standards, with conspiracies, scandals and crises at every turn. The Arab Spring and war in Libya, riots across the UK, Greece and Spain, Europe edging ever closer to economic collapse, the hackgate scandals, public services being cut to ribbons by a government of comically posh pantomime villains... it seemed at times as though we’d had a decade’s worth of news all in one go, with no sign of things calming down any time soon. Quite the opposite, in fact – by the time this issue hits the shops, we’ll be ready for a couple of small nuclear wars to have broken out and the Euro to have been replaced as currency by peanut M&Ms.

But what’s all this got to do with Mixmag? Ravers generally go their own merry way, right? We switch the news off, pull the curtains tighter to block out the dawn, turn up the music and crack on, preferring to leave the politics to Bono? Well, yes and no. The Occupy movement – which sprung up in cities across the West to demand accountability from institutions in response to the banking crisis responsible for much of the chaos in the world today – has not had much vocal support from the clubbing world – until recently.

In December Massive Attack’s 3D curated a show with Thom Yorke and Tim Goldsworthy (ex of LCD Soundsystem), and has been putting up online a series of mix sets by the likes of Horsemeat Disco, all in support of Occupy. And a quick look at www.occupymusicians.com shows a small but steadily increasing number of dance DJs and producers among the indie bands and experimentalists standing up and being counted. So is clubland developing a social conscience?

Maybe we’re all realising that dance is not a bubble separated off from the world after all. Professor John Street, author of the new book Music And Politics, points out that, “From the 1920s when US sheriffs would issue decrees about how couples could dance together, to rock ’n’ roll and the scandal of how teenagers reacted to the music, and on through rave, the powers that be have been as exercised by the performance of dance in crowds as they ever have by the lyrics of songs.” That is to say, the simple self-expression of dancing can be as much of a political act as any protest song – and indeed can have more effect.

Trance deity Paul van Dyk, himself no stranger to political activity, is also clear that losing it on the dancefloor doesn’t mean losing touch with wider realities; perhaps unsurprisingly for someone who grew up in oppressive Communist East Germany, he believes that the freedoms we enjoy should be trumpeted from the rooftops. “People, artists and movements can be hedonistic and free-spirited,” he says, “but also speak out and make a statement of the fact that this is a more tolerant and respectful group than many others in society.”

The author Tim Lawrence, who has closely studied the roots of modern dance culture going back to the start of the disco era, concurs. “I just don’t accept that going out clubbing is self-absorbed,” he says. “Sitting at home and looking in the mirror is self-absorbed. Going out with friends and engaging in a physical activity that only works if everyone participates and contributes is an act of socialising and community. If we stay at home and watch TV we’re saying one thing about the kind of society we want to be part of. If we go out dancing, we’re saying another thing. Dancing is political.”

Matt Black of Ninja Tune founders Coldcut goes further, but sounds a note of caution. “Yes, people collaborate through dance events,” he agrees, “and often they share an interest in making the world better, in social justice – but as with everything that gives people pleasure, that culture is very easily hijacked by those who want to make a quick buck. Cocaine becomes involved, egos become involved, and very quickly you lose touch with the constructive spirit that was so inspiring in the first place.

“But,” he continues, “that may just be part of the natural cycle of things. The punk of today becomes the suit of tomorrow, the spirit of rebellion wears off somewhat. That’s not necessarily a bad thing: I think there are probably a lot of people in ordinary jobs now who still carry the inspiration of acid house and rave with them, and when they see something like the Occupy movement, they think ‘Yes, that’s something I understand and can get behind’, because they know that feeling of being part of something bigger.”

It’s not just old ravers carrying the inspiration of the past forward, though. Many in the dubstep generation are aware of the power of dance music’s communality, its deep roots, and the potential this has for social action. Loefah, as co-founder of Brixton’s DMZ night, is one of the most important figures in the growth of dubstep and all that’s followed. His diverse Swamp 81 label is named after the police operation that sparked the original Brixton riots 30 years ago – but he stops short of making direct political statements, instead preferring to use the networks of art and music to deliver coded messages, not preaching but drawing people in, and allowing them to come to their own conclusions.

“When I was a teenager,” says Loefah, “pirate radio and white labels were everything, and as you got more and more into it, you began to understand the culture. Then when I went to the jungle raves, you’d become a part of this community, meeting the people you’d heard shout outs to on the radio, and you’d get something from it that’s impossible to explain unless you were there but that was powerful and wasn’t controlled by any authorities. It might sound elitist, but it was the opposite: anyone could be a part of it; they just had to make the effort to find out and understand it.”

Ben UFO, DJ and founder of the Hessle Audio label, insists that the communities created in this way – post-jungle, garage, dubstep and grime – are politically important. “Dance music in London, especially, has always provided a space for people from all sorts of different class backgrounds, different races, genders and identities to come together for a common purpose and communicate with each other. That’s quite radical in itself, and I think it’s easy to forget that,” he says. “A good example is the multitude of conversations facilitated by music in the aftermath of the riots this summer, when my whole Twitter timeline was dominated by the riots as they were happening, and afterwards. Likewise, a radio station like Rinse FM preserving and archiving a record of music made, presented and distributed by young, predominantly working-class kids is a hugely significant thing in its own right.”

So club music is political, even when it’s not trying to be. But are we on the verge of it becoming more so; of ravers voicing resistance to entrenched power alongside the Occupy protesters? Don’t count on it – after all, the instinct to close the curtains and chop out another line is still strong. American journalist, music business expert and Occupy LA campaigner Giovanna Trimble sadly points out that dance acts who may pay lip-service to anti-establishment views are often slower when it comes to turning out for protests or organising benefits.

“I have not seen any support from electronic dance music acts,” she says, “especially the ones who identify themselves as political beings.”

The opportunities are there, though. Trimble still holds out hope: “I feel that of all genres, EDM [electronic dance music] has the most space for activism, as the demographic is far more open-minded and less corrupted by corporations.” And veteran German house singer Billie Ray Martin sums up exactly why getting bodies out on the street is powerful, just as “the mass feeling of possibility and power that the height of house in ’88 and onwards” had produced for her.

“We’ve lived in a time of virtual socialising,” she says, “and it’s all very fake. it’s easy to click ‘Like’ on a post that says ‘do you want to personally go out and change the world?’ and then move on the latest video online and not even ever think about why you clicked ‘like’.

"I wish everyone would go out on the streets and shout it out – and that’s where Occupy comes in. I hope it gains the kind of power it deserves. I’m there all the way. Like!”