I noticed recently a lot of chatter on my social media threads about the TV show ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ featuring a section of a recent show, based around the culture of Northern Soul. Some of the old school were distraught at their beloved scene being trivialised, as they saw it, whereas others embraced the exposure and celebration, in their words, of the scene.
I have to confess I don’t watch ‘Strictly’ so I had to check it out on YouTube to see what all the fuss was about. What I saw looked fine. Admittedly, it didn’t look overly authentic either in the dancing or the clobber being worn, but I thought it was fair enough for a dance based show to highlight a strand of the genre, not perhaps known too well to the general man/woman in the street.
Now, I love a bit of Northern. Some of my favourite ever singles would fall into that category and the whole lifestyle around it still fascinates me. I have attended a few ‘nighters’ in my time, though the last one at the 100 Club I went to, found me asleep at a table by 3am. Sometimes its good to listen to your body, and mine was definitely telling me to give it up.
Like all the best youth trends, they can exist for years before the mainstream and, more importantly the media, find out about them. So began mod and so began Northern Soul.
The scene grew out of the dying embers of the mod world. A healthy number of those still involved just wanted to be left alone in dark clubs to enjoy the sounds of obscure black music by obscure black artists and simply dance and dance and dance.
Amphetamines were imbibed by these participants to stay sharp and awake – make your own judgement on my 3am kip mentioned earlier – and clothing was kept loose and baggy as the DJ’s played through their rare vinyl discoveries – often covering up the record labels to ensure their exclusive right to that particular song.
And these songs were rare. Often only pressed in limited numbers by tiny record labels the names of which, Wand, Swan, and Golden World among many others, became highly collectable by those in the know. The phrase ‘Northern Soul’ is attributed to journalist and black music pioneer Dave Godin. Godin also ran the Soul City record shop in central London, and coined the phrase for visiting football fans from the North, who only seemed to be interested in buying old obscure records and had no interest in what was current in the Black music charts at the time.
One-time mod venues like The Twisted Wheel in Manchester began playing this faster paced music at their all-nighters on Saturday’s at the very tail end of the 1960s. Blighted by non-stop drug raids, it was finally forced it to close in 1971, but by then the music and the gymnastic dancing it brought on, plus the fashions and lifestyle that developed from it, had spread to many other, later to become legendary venues, like the The Golden Torch in Stoke, The Mecca in Blackpool and then The Wigan Casino. The punters simply picked up their bedecked holdalls and moved on.
The promoter at Wigan Casino, Russ Winstanley began his all –nighters in late 1973 and within three years the club boasted a membership of 100,000 and two years later it was voted the world’s best disco. Cue the media spotlight that began to shine on the scene. Invariably when this happens, the people involved shun that light, and simply move on to pastures new. Wigan finally closed in 1981, though it is still fondly remembered by the many thousands who spent many happy hours there.
By this time, a new generation was coming through and discovering the old sounds and incorporating the fashions into what they were already wearing. Second generation mods among them. The black fisted logo that appeared on cloth badges and patches was inspired by the black power salute as seen at the 1968 Olympic games. A common message seen on those badges urged all that followed, to ‘Keep The Faith’ and this they did by listening to songs like ‘Baby Boy’ by Juanita Williams, ‘Tainted Love’ by Gloria Jones, the Wigan standby ‘Long After Tonight Is All Over’ by Jimmy Radcliffe, ‘No One To Love’ by Pat Lewis, ‘Do I Love You’ by Frank Wilson, ‘The Snake’ by Al Wilson, and ‘Competition’ by Little Carl Carlton, among many hundreds and hundreds of others.
The Northern Soul scene was and still is represented in London by Ady Croasdell and his team of DJ’s at The 100 Club on Oxford Street. The monthly ‘6T’s’ nights began in 1979 and are still going strong today. Croasdell was also the main man behind the many ‘Kent’ compilations that have found homes in the most discerning record collections. It is said the scene inspired the celebrity DJ culture of today, and ‘Northern’ has certainly crossed over into the mainstream.
You can hear the records regularly on Radio 2 and on many TV adverts. Theatrical plays and films about the scene are also doing the rounds, so everything appears to be in pretty rude health.
Before I go, please consider the next sentence as a public service statement if you will, if you are a first time visitor to a Northern club and fancy a dance.
If your dance style is more akin to looking like you are stamping out a small fire, as opposed to leg splits, body spins and high kicks, I would suggest you stay to the edges of the dance floor, and take your Andy Capp talcum powder holder with you….
Thank me later.
The Mumper of SE5
