‘Believe it or not, this is just how I dance…’ Model-turned-TikToker Thomas Meacock is laughing at the idea that he’s at the apex of the new resurgence of Northern Soul. He’s got the flapping bags (trousers), he’s got the Gallagher-esque feather cut, but most importantly he’s got legs and arms that flap and flail (elegantly, of course) — often to a rare Seventies soul soundtrack.
‘I’d post a video and people would comment underneath: “NORTHERN SOUL.” “Northern soul!” I just thought it was some bad thing. I had no idea this genre existed. And then an art director on one of my jobs filled me in and showed me some videos and I thought it looked cool.’
It’s not such a surprise that a 23-year-old pretty, posh Southerner might not connect the dots between a scene that hit its heights with hedonistic weekenders 50 years ago in working-class Northern cities such as Wigan, Manchester and Blackpool, with the videos of him dressing up and dancing in his vintage finds. But when those videos started getting 10 and 20 million views, it seemed Meacock was on to a good thing. ‘Once Lee Slaney had explained it,
I went home and listened to the Apple Music Northern Soul playlist and started using the songs on my videos.’
With multiple club nights popping up in north, east and south London, Northern Soul is back in 2024 — with a twist. Deptford Northern Soul Club was set up by DJs and re-issue label heads Will Foot and Lewis Henderson, both 30. Starting out after the pair ‘couldn’t find a night for us’, says Foot, the event is reaching new heights right now. ‘We want to dance with people our age in spaces we love.’ The result is an ‘energetic, passionate and stylish crowd. We see all sorts of people at our nights, united by dancing.’
‘Do You Get the Message’ by the Grey Imprint is a major floor-filler, and as Foot says, ‘There’s something special about seeing a Northern Soul dancer in full flow.’ This is perhaps what separates the scene from other subcultures. Whereas generic dance music can fill mega venues with a non-unified mass of clubbers, Northern Soul is an aesthetic thread that loops every single person on the dancefloor into one shuffling, spinning, high-kicking throb.
Another night, Rumours Soul Club at The Waiting Room in Stoke Newington, is the brainchild of The Horrors’ Rhys Webb and hairdresser Shaafi Parvez, 27, who also runs Heart of Soul in Peckham. Parvez got on to the scene through his dad, who goes to the night and who immigrated from Pakistan to Keighley in the late 1960s. ‘He found his place on the soul scene somewhere in the mid Seventies. He was a regular at the [Wigan] Casino, then when that closed, moved on to venues like the Clifton Hall, Stafford etc. My earliest memories are visiting his hometown and he would play us his tapes from the late Seventies and early Eighties scene when the sound was a bit different; that is definitely where my taste in soul music stems from.’ Webb adds: ‘Right now is an emergence of a new wave of soul clubs hosted by a younger generation of fans.’
Stylist Tom Stubbs is a Rumours regular. ‘The music at Rumours is way better than just Northern Soul revival, it pulls in a very alt crowd and one night was the most Balearic kick-off I’ve seen in 25 years, no word of a lie.’ He describes himself as ‘bang into this scene on various levels’, and has spotted the aesthetic filtering through in fashion (see Jonathan Bailey’s Loewe wide-leg, high-waisted trouser and tight-white-vest Met Gala afterparty look) and is casting models from the new scene.
Photographer and film-maker Elaine Constantine caught the tail end of the Seventies scene as a kid growing up in Bury, Lancashire. Now she’s feeling the scene bubbling again. ‘Recently there’s been a couple of clubs, like Hearts of Soul, full of young people that have come to my attention.’ So, what’s different to the moustachioed steelworkers and roofers who kept the OG scene alive with their endless weekenders powered by Dexys and talcum powder? ‘It’s the only scene you’ll still see men peacocking — kicking higher and spinning faster than the next guy — but it’s all in good jest,’ says soul singer Harvey Lowe, 26.
‘Apart from the obvious, like smoking banished to outdoors, I feel like the spirit lives on,’ says Constantine, ‘and maybe will keep going as the young people I’ve seen DJing and dancing seem to be loving it like we did.’ Constantine’s 2014 film Northern Soul is one of the most true to the era representations. It was recently voted one of BBC6 Music’s best dance films, prompting Mary Anne Hobbs to enlist Constantine to put together her 7” single Northern Soul mix with rare tracks like Johnny McCall’s ‘I Need You’ and Mello Souls’ ‘We Can Make It’. ‘There seems to be a resurgence with vinyl worship,’ says Constantine. ‘Probably like the desire for many other tangible and precious things we had in our youth, like scooters and clothing.’
The raw tangibility is a key tenet in Northern Soul’s new appeal. In a sea of streaming, homogenised fast fashion and overbearingly unlimited choice, the thrill of the search for that record, or the pair of wide-legged trousers that look ready to take flight when you spin across the dancefloor, is a heady unifier. Vintage curator Hassani Mgoya, who sells at Coal Drops Yard’s quarterly Classic Car Boot Sale, says: ‘A return to this look is happening right before our eyes. Bell bottoms are perfect for athletic dance moves.’
‘I think people my age actually want to dance,’ says Parvez, ‘they just want something different from the regular club experience in London that tends to be full of boozed-up randoms stood around on their phones. This is a free dancefloor where they can completely express themselves and feel the music in an authentic way!’ Pass us the talc, we’re coming through.
