It has been nearly 5 years since I first left Belfast for university and settled in Manchester. When I moved, I wore the fact I was from Belfast on my sleeve and with pride – sure, it may be a complicated city but it’s a city full of passion and love for its own people and the alternative arts and music scenes. Quoting Terri Hooley in the 2012 punk biopic ‘Good Vibrations’: “When it comes to punk: New York has the haircuts, London has the trousers, but Belfast has the Reason!” 

The city, the north and even Ireland more broadly, has not had an easy ride when it comes to the creative sector, and in particular, underground music and nightlife. But in spite of this, I left Belfast when it was having a real moment in terms of the electronic music scene. Between huge commercial club nights, to underground techno and house nights, and a growing jungle, dnb and UK bass scene, as well as a reignition of free party culture, the city was establishing itself as one of the best nights out in the UK, with nods from the likes of MixMag and DJ Mag. 

The era between 2016 and 2020 felt to me like the reign of a modern youth subculture, similar to the punk and rave scenes of the 20th century, where young people could find a space to freely mix and express themselves, in spite of the politics of the world around them. The north, and indeed Ireland more broadly has always produced dynamic figures in the arts, across literature, music and art. The island’s global cultural weighting far outshines the humble population it holds. 

It’s not been an easy ride, and still, truthfully it feels like an uphill battle. Since moving away from Belfast, I have been struck by just how much the city’s nightlife economy and wider art sector has suffered over the years since the pandemic. In spite of the success and celebration of the culture in Belfast, the council have found no space to credit this and have struggled to keep up with this progressive wave of arts. Indeed the north cannot seem to keep up with its neighbours in terms of providing a progressive and dynamic arts sector – put simply the funding doesn’t allow it: £4.72 is currently allocated per head of the population, compared to £10.51 in Wales and £22.50 in the Republic.

The start of this economic year saw an onslaught of blows on an already struggling cultural sector. In March, the Arts Council of Northern Ireland warned recipients to brace themselves for another 10% cut to funding in 2023/24. This followed pre-covid cuts of nearly 5% in 2019. Perhaps the most prominent example of this cultural degradation for me has been the announcement of the halting of the Cathedral Quarter Trust and the end of their involvement in the iconic Culture Night, something I have incredibly fond memories of. 

In a city so often boiled down to the ‘two cultures’, Culture Night presented a free space for all communities to come together and celebrate in the shared culture of the city. To have its core funder ripped away certainly feels like a punch in the gut. In this city when it comes to progress, it’s one step forward, two steps back. The fact that it will be continuing on without the CQT is a testament to the talent and work of the artists and activists surrounding it. But without this backbone, I’m personally pessimistic that they will have the resources to capture quite the same magic as they have in years gone by.

While my passion is for the nightlife and music industry, it would be an oversight not to mention the cuts that have hit theatres, dance and art studios and other cultural hubs. Venues such as the MAC and the Lyric have warned of the impact of further cuts, which some have labelled catastrophic, on jobs and institutes themselves. Some studios and companies will be preparing for potential closure amid this funding devastation. These studios follow the likes of PLACE charity, QSS and Paragon Studios who have already seen all of their annual funding cut in previous economic years – the strength and resilience of the people within these communities is what keeps them alive.

These annihilations at the funding level compound a nightlife industry which already does nothing to celebrate a city brimming with musical talent and big ideas.The Belfast night economy is littered with regressive policies and circumstances; from prehistoric licensing laws which allow a latest licence of 3am (and 1-2am without a special licence) to a public bus service running no later than midnight and taxi companies stretched to the max. 

This is before we even get into the short survival rate of venues. Even prior to covid I watched nightclubs, bars, and other venues close with incredibly short life spans. Simultaneously I have witnessed some of the city’s most iconic venues and alternative spaces like the Bunatee and Warzone close their doors. And with the further impact of covid on the mainstay power of clubs, it is unsurprising to see those with an interest in dance music congregate almost exclusively at one venue. 

And this isn’t just a problem for the north; it feels to me a strangely Irish problem. Despite the comparative wealth of funding for the Irish arts council, nightlife and particularly clubbing, is seldom viewed as an integral part of the arts, and it is certainly no secret that in southern cities, the night time economy has been destroyed. Galway for instance, is one of the country’s most popular university cities and yet it has been left with no nightclubs, while Dublin venues like Hangar and District 8 have closed their doors in recent years. In fact, 4 in 5 clubs on the island have shut since 2000, alarmingly dropping from 522 clubs in 2000 to a mere 85 in 2022.

The reality of the decimation of nightlife North and South of the border seems a uniquely Irish fusion of self-flagellation based on religious tradition and a twisted structure of corporate capitalism supported by parties on both sides of the border. The Irish identity was for so long tied to a catholic theocracy, while northern presbyterianism was similarly defined by religious conservatism. The ripples of these theocratic structures continue to be felt across the island into the present, particularly on social policy, including policy on nightlife. In my view, the only assessment of the laws on licensing in the north – not just early club closures but also the strict limits on when and where alcohol can be sold – is the result of a minority of religious ideologues whos lobbying strikes at the heart of governance, nearly exclusively within the DUP.

Economically, for many (particularly EU neo-liberals) the Celtic Tiger represented a moment of progress, where Ireland, in the south at least, shed its religious conservatism in favour of a neoliberal system. This era created a form of culture which was exportable and capitalisable, and many supported the ‘progressive’ culture and arts of the ‘New Ireland’. It only took until the world economic crash that we saw what the Celtic Tiger really ushered in was a nation whose identity became wrapped up in a rampant and unstable capitalism. 

With the economic crash, the underground would be one of the first things to fall. With a new, plastic cultural economy focused on tourism, the fat cats of Dublin promoted the mass expansion of hotels and swanky cocktail bars – music by the city and for its people became expendable. Enter the era of the white boy in Temple Bar singing Ed Sheeran and passing it off as Irish trad for American tourists. And since the mid 2010s, we have seen these changes be accompanied by a shift from private landlords to non-resident corporate landlords. This has led to spiking rents across commercial and private property, pushing working class communities, pillars of the arts and music scenes, outside of the city.

It’s not that these issues have gone unrecognised by the establishment. Meagre reforms have been put in place in the south – including an additional 5% income tax on corporate landlords. Perhaps most significantly for nightlife and down to the work of Sunil Sharpe and the Give us the Night campaign, has been the announcement that the government would be introducing 6am licences for certain clubs. These baby steps certainly seem to be a start. It’s just that, when compared to the pace of progress of cities like Berlin, it’s a reminder that, without further fundamental change these may be as useful as a plaster on a broken leg.

Unfortunately in the north, reform has been less hopeful and, despite a similar campaign taking shape in Free the Night, the stubbornness and futility of Stormonts (lack of) governance has reigned supreme. Any hope for artists of all shapes and sizes feels impossible in light of continuing emigration tied to the failures of partition and the Good Friday Agreement. Ultimately, politicians remain tied to sectarian cultural agendas, embedded in the Good Friday Agreement, and everything from the economy, social policy and the arts has fallen further to the wayside.

As hopeless as it can feel, I am constantly reminded of how the people of Belfast are holding up the crippled scene from below. As a child of the north, I can say that the spirit and energy of the crowds, and what it means to people, is more than other cities. Still to this day arts spaces and underground music events provide a haven of hope and joy in the city for many, young and old, and multiple crews and their events still highlight the city at its best in terms of the variation of local talent on offer.

As I write this, the Irish rap scene is at an all time high, pushing some of the most enthusiastic and exciting young talent in the country. And with a new generation of creatives coming through, it feels like we have the first fresh wave of energy since covid, with many youngsters following in the footsteps of those in the UK and new events popping up nearly each week. Ultimately however, without the funding, without policy change and without something keeping young talent from emigrating, this wave seems doomed to the same fate as those before. It’s time for change.

By Annie Hackett