Clubbing is a huge part of British identity. Friday nights have become culturally defined by a swarm of youths piling onto sticky dancefloors across the country, throwing their limbs around to the biggest hits of the day. Cambridge, however, has always been a bit of an outlier. You never hear anyone tell you that they had the wildest night out of their life here. In fact, it tends to be the most traumatic one. The propensity for High School Musical medleys, the old men who awkwardly try and dance their way into your tight-knit group formation, and the obnoxious cheers of drinking socs often make you question whether you’re in MASH or the seventh circle of hell. Every time I see one of those groups of lads rock up in suits and ties to Revs, I take a shot in mourning for what life at my insurance uni (Bristol) would have been like. But is there something deeper going on here than Cambridge’s nightlife just simply being bad?

Boarded-up nightclubs are becoming a common sight up and down the UK. Since 2019, one club has been closing every two days and if this trajectory continues, projections suggest that there will be none left by 2030. The very prospect of a night out is being threatened. So why aren’t people flocking to the club in response?

“Clubbing is so much more than hedonism”

Well, one key barrier is that we simply can’t afford it. The days of the noughties where you could go out with just a tenner in your pocket are well and truly over. Want to go to Junction? Cough up £20 for entry. Fancy a Rumboogie? Don’t forget the service fee on FIXR. Then, factor in drinks, getting there and back (especially if you’re at a hill college), and maybe a late-night kebab, and your student loan has vanished. Clubbing has become a luxury.

At Cambridge though, there is another cost. Managing your workload is difficult enough without having to navigate a supervision with a violent hangover. It’s understandable that we’re hardly ravers; losing an entire day trying to fight down water while your essay sits unwritten makes hangxiety even more unbearable. You wake up the next day broke and behind.

But, is turning away from the club the best solution? Nowhere more so than Cambridge is a night of healthy detachment, away from the desk, needed. By constantly devoting yourself to the sacred academic grind, it’s so easy to forget you’re human. Clubbing is so much more than hedonism; it brings connection. It brings escapism. We might think that we can get all that during a quick scrolling break, but phones give only the illusion of company. Nothing can really bond you closer (and bring you back down to earth more) than holding your mate’s hair back as they vomit into a club toilet.

Bad nights out are actually crucial for social development. The club is a place where young people can experience things for the first time: they can learn their drinking limits, discover different genres of music, discern what kind of night out they enjoy. Crucially, clubs are also cultural spaces where new genres of music and new artists are born. Would we ever have had Charli XCX’s ‘BRAT’ without the rave scene?

“Venues and attendees need to meet each other halfway”

The thing is, no one wants to be messy anymore. We’re all happy being boring. And look, it might seem counterproductive pushing the crusade for the revival of clubbing in a city like Cambridge where the student body is made up of the most boring people on earth. A bunch of nerds with super niche interests need a board game cafe, not the dance floor. But boring has become a status symbol; it’s that ‘clean girl aesthetic’. It’s all the rage to cancel your plans and curl up with a nice hot chocolate and a documentary. This focus on ‘protecting your peace’ has made the club seem a hub of wild immaturity: true self-care is journaling with a face mask. While these things aren’t necessarily bad, this glamourisation of quiet solitude – this antisocial era – means that we risk severing ourselves from new, meaningful experiences and connections that the club can offer.

I’m not saying that we need to go out and get wasted every other day. Alcohol isn’t the key nor the solution: Gen Z has been dubbed the ‘Sober Generation’, with a YouGov survey showing that 39% of 18 to 24-year-olds don’t drink at all. But, dare I say it, you can even enjoy a night out sober. If you like music and the people you’re with, you’re still in for a good time.

To save Cambridge (and the UK’s) nightlife, venues and attendees need to meet each other halfway. Behind the business deal, the owners of MASH buying Lola Lo’s (now Kiki’s) is nothing but an attempt to shake up and bring some new life to the Cambridge clubbing scene. But costs need to be lower, clubs less overcrowded, and tickets not oversold. At the same time, we need to let go of this judgemental mentality that going out means taking your degree less seriously. An evening off is not an evening wasted but an evening well spent. So, next time you need a break from studying, instead of scrolling in bed or binge-watching the latest reality TV show, why not hit the dance floor? The nightlife industry and your social life will thank you.