During the summer, French DJ Bob Sinclar played at a magnificent club on the Greek island of Mykonos, one of Europe’s hottest party hubs. The lavish venue was packed with people who he figured were ready to rave. Sinclar anticipated a big show.
It ended up being the worst night of his career. Nothing remarkable happened, and that was precisely the issue: nothing happened.
“People didn’t move; they were constantly filming with their phones,” a frustrated Sinclar vented on Instagram after the performance, complaining about the crowd being “completely dead” and unresponsive to the music. They were absorbed in recording and sharing what was happening rather than living in the moment.
Some fans didn’t take his criticism well. Later on, Sinclar clarified that he needs “physical energy” from the crowd when he’s on stage, but he stuck to his main point: Smartphones are killing the dance floor vibes. He argued that even a small group of people on their devices can ruin the atmosphere for others, turning elation into boredom.
Sinclar is hardly alone in detesting smartphones for being buzz kills. For a long time, some clubs and music festivals have been asking attendees to refrain from compulsively using their phones. However, many are now realizing that the mere suggestion isn’t enough. So now they are resorting to strict no-phone policies to protect fun from its major enemy: distraction.
While there is a heated debate about banning smartphones in schools, nightclubs are actually at the forefront of this prohibition movement.
Some popular nightclubs in Europe, such as Fabric in London and Berghain in Berlin, have longstanding rules against smartphones. Many others are following their lead. The acclaimed club Hï Ibiza, a mecca for European partygoers, has introduced a no-phone rule on some of its most popular nights. The No Art festival in Amsterdam, an all-day summer dance party, banned phones for the first time this year. Attendees of the Voodoo festival in Belgium are required to place stickers over their smartphone cameras. Off the Radar, a club in Tilburg, Netherlands, was created on the idea of “connecting by disconnecting.” The owner of The Palace, a nightclub in Manhattan, invested $10,000 in special pouches where phones can be safely stored upon entrance and unlocked upon exit. “We want to make sure people really enjoy living in the moment,” Ben Robertshaw, the owner of The Palace, told the New York Post. “People are anxious about documenting the moment rather than experiencing it.”
Artists have long asked their fans not to spend entire shows recording. Partly this is to protect their performances from being shared for free online, but mainly it’s because facing thousands of frozen faces, phones in hand, is depressing. Last April, rapper Tyler, the Creator even put up billboards along the road to Palm Springs, Calif., urging fans heading to the Coachella festival: “I would love to see y’all faces and not your phone lights.” Judging by the videos circulating online, his wish wasn’t granted.
Bob Dylan has implemented a no-phone rule for his upcoming UK tour in November, while Blur frontman Damon Albarn expressed a different view. “People won’t want to be on their phones if you’re engaging with them correctly,” he said. Yet Albarn himself wasn’t pleased when an unresponsive crowd at Coachella failed to sing along to one of the band’s major hits.
MIT social scientist Sherry Turkle has warned of the alienating effects of constant connection, writing that people are condemned to be “forever elsewhere” due to the dopamine lure of their screens. But while it’s easy to imagine teenagers in a chemistry class wanting to be somewhere else, it’s surprising that people in clubs would wish to be anywhere else. Why is it that when people could be dancing, socializing, making new friends, flirting, listening to music, and generally enjoying life, many seem more focused on capturing the scene on video?
At its core, the overuse of screens, including on the dance floor, reflects a deeper desire for disembodiment. Social media and texting have conditioned people to relationships largely devoid of sensory experience. As a result, activities that require full physical engagement, like dancing, can feel overwhelming. This leads some to retreat to the comfort of their screens, even during a wild DJ set. Club owners and artists committed to reviving pre-digital dance parties are tapping into something deeper than just protecting their businesses.
Some patrons are ultimately grateful for the restrictions. Those who manage to separate from their devices often end up loving every minute of it.
And according to some researchers, Generation Z is adapting better to these restrictions than their older peers.
Gunn Enli, a professor of media and communication at the University of Oslo, Norway, has observed this shift at a major music festival in her country. “More people are putting their phones in their pockets when the music starts and leaving them there. There is now more social cachet in not being seen as a slave to social media,” she told The Guardian, noting that younger attendees are more likely to keep their phones out of use than those in their late 30s and 40s.
It turns out that digital natives are craving the undistracted, fully in-the-moment party experiences previous generations got to enjoy all the time.
Mattia Ferraresi is a writer based in Rome and the managing editor of the Italian newspaper Domani.