When the economy tanks, the beats get faster. The clubs fill up. Suddenly, everyone’s Shazamming in the Zara dressing room or in Ibiza again. What if the revival of house music is indicative of an economic recession?
House music began in Chicago in the 1980s, carried by Black and Queer communities in the iconic venue The Warehouse. From the beginning, the house has always been a safe space for these communities, and people feel a sense of freedom listening to house music. The term “house music” was shortened from its original namesake, the venue The Warehouse.
Once house music reached the UK, clubs like Manchester’s Haçienda and London’s Ministry of Sound quickly embraced it, making it part of the underground music scene. In 1988, the UK’s “Second Summer of Love” was a term used to describe the growing popularity of open-air raves and youth culture.
Today, house music has woven itself into mainstream UK culture. With the rise of TikTok’s “Ibiza final boss,” a caricature of the stereotypical British raver in neon t-shirts, house music’s cultural dominance is emblematic.
House music is now ubiquitous thanks to streaming platforms and social media, and as a result, artists like Fred Again, Chris Stussy, Luke & Max Dean, and PAWSA have gone from underground sets to sold-out world tours and headlining festivals. DJs are no longer reliant on underground clubs to play their music; they are now commercialised.
However, I have noticed something. I have been listening to house music constantly, whether studying in the library, on a run, or during pre-drinks. Moreover, that is the point. During uncertain times, people turn to music that feels both grounding and transcendent.
Tempo acceleration is well-documented, showing that during economic hardship, the average BPM of popular music increases. For example, during the 2008 recession, early dubstep and bass artists saw a surge in popularity from artists like Calvin Harris, Skrillex, and David Guetta.
Electronic dance music culture (EDMC) offers an “escapism preferred ‘political’ choice/environment to the undesirable reality of a society in unrest,” said Music psychologist Natasha Hendry.
Coming out of the uncertainty of COVID, perhaps people found solace and comfort in listening to house music and reminiscing on life pre-pandemic. Today, in the face of another uncertain decade marked by inflation, job insecurity, and political volatility, people turn to house music in the same way.
According to Spotify trends, in 2023, there was a 17% increase in searches for “classic house” playlists among listeners aged 18-25. For example, Kerri Chandler’s 1988 song “You Are in My System” regained new popularity on TikTok with a generation that was not even born when it first dropped. That is how I discovered this artist, and I had the chance to see him perform live this summer. The crowd ranged in age, from experienced warehouse regulars to Gen Z fans who had discovered him online. However, the energy in the room felt reverent and new.
The digitalisation of club culture has made house music hyper-accessible. What once required being a part of an underground scene can now be experienced on TikTok or YouTube. Classic tracks like “Show Me Love” by Robin S (1993) and “Push the Feeling On” by Nightcrawlers (1992) have found second lives through modern remixes.
House music reappears not because people want to ignore what’s happening around them, but because they want to feel alive. I think that’s why the genre has outlasted every economic downturn since its creation. Each generation rediscovers it in moments of uncertainty, reinterpreting its sound for their time.