A viral plea from DJ Jane Fitz asking clubbers to stop chatting during sets has ignited a debate over whether dancing is being killed by phones, drugs and idle conversation. Fitz, a regular at the Houghton festival, posted her request on Instagram ahead of the event, and it quickly divided clubland.
“What I wrote was super respectful,” she says. “A bit of talking is obviously OK. But why would you stand completely still, where the sound is super loud, just to ask your mate about a new boyfriend or what they had for lunch? It’s called a dancefloor for a reason.”
A Debate That Divided Clubland
Fitz’s plea resonated with many, but others pushed back, arguing that paying an entry fee allows them to behave as they please. “People were accusing me of being the fun police,” she says. “I’m not trying to stop your fun, mate. I’m trying to give you a better night out.”
The debate extends beyond chatter. Many DJs and clubbers point to the rise of certain drugs, such as ketamine and cocaine, and the influence of TikTok-boosted star DJs who attract passive fans more used to consuming dance music through a screen. These fans often stand still filming the DJ rather than dancing. Rising costs are also pricing younger, more energetic dancers out of raves.
Space and Sound Issues
With fewer purpose-built clubs in recent years, clubbers often squeeze into one-room raves in converted arches, warehouses and garages. Josh Aitman, organiser of the sober-friendly London queer party Good As You, says “some parties can be so packed in that I get looks just for dancing.” Separate bar areas are rare, and the 90s concept of a chill-out room has disappeared, leaving smoking areas as the only refuge for conversation.
Stricter council licensing demands have also led to quieter dancefloors, making chat more noticeable. One group of clubbers handed out cards this summer at events including Houghton, reading “The Dance Floor Is For Dancing” with “Please take your conversation to the back” on the reverse. The flipside featured a diagram of EQ curves. “Dance music is very bassy, meaning there’s loads of room on the top end of the EQ spectrum for vocals to punctuate,” says Paul M, one of the instigators. He recalls watching a DJ he’d wanted to see while two men next to him discussed mortgage rates for 20 minutes. Another person at Houghton gave out cards that simply said: “Stop Talking.”
The Case for Talking
Not everyone wants the dancefloor treated as sacred. James Ronald, who plays as Hot Cross Fun and is a resident DJ for Disco Disco, posted a rebuttal titled “Please Talk on the Dancefloor,” which also drew a huge reaction. “I get that you should be respectful,” says Ronald. “But she talked about treating it like a church, cinema or a theatre – places where you just observe and nobody communicates.”
Ronald defends the dancefloor as a place for connection. “Community is a really big part of clubbing,” he says. He notes instances where a friend “only really opens up when he’s a bit wasted,” leading to important chats about family and personal issues that wouldn’t happen elsewhere. Dan Beaumont, a DJ writing a history of London’s queer club culture, sees it as a balance: “Gossip is the glue that holds clubbing together. You need an equilibrium of yappers and dancers. Clubbing doesn’t work when it’s one and not the other.”
Venues Set the Tone
Some venues are providing clearer direction. At Gaffe, a 150-capacity DIY club in south London that opened in early 2025, a sign shows two arrows: one says “Dancing”, the other “Yapping”. Founder Luca Marchal says the sign is “a bit tongue in cheek,” but the arrows point in different directions for a reason. “We’re asking people to take the longer chats off the dancefloor. Having a proper catch up is a massive part of going out, so we want that to happen somewhere good.”
In Berlin, there is less social stigma around asking someone to take a chat outside. “There’s a certain etiquette that leads to more satisfying and transformative experiences on the dancefloor,” says British DJ Pandora, based in Berlin. “You’re more able to get into a flow state without the distraction of nearby conversations.”
Phone Bans and Drug Influences
British clubs are following Berlin’s lead in banning phones on the dancefloor. Michael Peacock, a 68-year-old figure in British clubbing known for dancing barefoot, campaigns for less phone use. He praises Amber’s in Manchester for its strictly enforced zero tolerance policy. “There are still times when I have to remonstrate with people,” he says. Sheffield venue Plot 22 places a sticker over phone cameras on entry. Manager Mike Thompson says the space is small and intimate, and “even just one person filming with a flash would really disrupt the vibe.” Co-owner Adam Seymour adds: “People say they feel free to enjoy the dancefloor when you take away the ability to use their phone.”
The rise of ketamine, a dissociative drug, has made dancefloors less buoyant, according to many. Manchester DJ Luke Una calls it a “very solo” drug. “It breaks any sense of communal togetherness. For me, music has to be about connection. A nightclub should be about bringing people together and transcending and escaping together.” He recalls one experience: “I thought I was listening to Underground Resistance for 12 hours until I came round and realised that I was listening to the air conditioning unit.” Cocaine, now cheaper and more common, has shifted behaviour too, says NTS Radio DJ Wes Baggaley: clubbers have “gone from a drug that makes the music sound amazing, to a drug that makes you think you’re amazing and people need to listen to you instead.”
However, Una notes a revival of mushrooms is having the opposite effect. “In the last 12 months, there’s been a lot more unity, love, warmth and smiling – down to people taking mushrooms again.” He recalls a party in Belfast where everyone seemed unusually happy, and the organiser explained: “Luke, they’re all on mushrooms.”
Jane Fitz is optimistic about the debate she started. “I have seen differences, I think people have realised there should be some kind of etiquette. During the breakdowns in songs, the dancefloor has been feeling quiet with people listening again.” Luke Una also sees hope: “I believe something is going on which feels like a reaction to what has become a brutal, toxic world out there. It feels like people are coming back to life in 3D again, showing a need to be together and – without being cringe about it – to kind of transcend together too.”
