Northern Soul

Written by Roger, leader of the IGO Soul Train Group

How England embraced Northern Soul

Listen to classics like Tainted Love, Do I Love You (Indeed I Do) or Here I Go Again and you'll immediately recognise what made Northern Soul so distinctive. The tempo was fast, the lyrics meant something and the music had a feeling that got inside you. When a great Northern Soul record came on, you simply couldn't sit still. You had to dance.

One of the fascinating things about Northern Soul is that so many of its greatest records were virtually unknown in America. Many were B-sides that record companies regarded as little more than fillers. Here in Britain, however, people listened differently. DJs unearthed these forgotten tracks, audiences embraced them and suddenly songs that had been overlooked in the United States became treasured classics on dance floors across the North of England.

The music itself also struck a chord with young working-class people growing up in Britain's industrial towns. The beat grabbed you immediately, but the lyrics often spoke about hope, heartbreak and determination. More importantly, the music offered an escape from lives that, for many, seemed to offer very little. Dancing became part of the culture, competitions sprang up to find the best dancers and, almost overnight, Northern Soul became a passionate but peaceful movement.

For many people it was both an escape and a reflection of their lives. A whole week could be endured simply because there was something to look forward to at the weekend.

My experiences of Northern Soul

Music had already become a big part of my life. I listened to Radio Luxembourg and Radio Caroline and recorded music from the radio onto a cassette recorder. I read the New Musical Express and Melody Maker. My first record had been Twist and Shout, but by my mid-teens my musical interests were changing.

I grew up in Yorkshire where, as a youngster, it seemed there were only two career choices: the coal mines or the glass works. My father worked down the mines and hated every minute of it. My brother worked in the glass industry and often came home covered in boils from the intense heat. Watching that made up my mind very early. At just nine years old I decided I would join the Army. People said I wouldn't do it, or couldn't do it, but at fifteen and a half I left Yorkshire behind and never looked back.

That became my escape. For many of my friends who stayed behind, Northern Soul was theirs.

By the mid-1970s I was serving in Berlin, rather improbably guarding Rudolf Hess. Life had taken me in a completely different direction. I was earning good money, especially with the favourable exchange rate, and that was when my love of black music really began to grow. Friends persuaded me to see James Brown and his orchestra, and that concert changed my life forever. I had found my musical home.

As a child my brother constantly played The Beatles and The Everly Brothers. They never really did anything for me. Then I began hearing Motown on the radio. It was different. It had soul, rhythm and emotion. Once I had my own small stereo after Army training, I could finally buy records for myself, and everything changed.

Whenever I came home on leave, though, I was struck by how little Yorkshire itself had changed. The same dark, grey streets. The same mills. My old friends seemed weighed down by work that offered little enjoyment and even less hope. Yet as Friday approached, everything changed. They came alive. You could almost feel the excitement building because another Northern Soul weekend was about to begin.

That anticipation was part of what made the scene so special.

Northern Soul wasn't built around chart success. It was built around all-night dancing, incredible DJs and rare records. The scene could be quite cliquey, but once you were part of it you belonged. Nothing else really mattered because there wasn't much else. Then suddenly this extraordinary music began circulating and everyone had a reason to work through another week just to reach the weekend.

Why was it so popular?

Looking back now, perhaps we all see it through slightly rose-tinted glasses, but there is no doubt that the music helped people through difficult times.

The DJs became legends. Finding a rare American record gave them real status. Some even travelled to the United States searching for forgotten singles. Before social media, word spread by conversation, phone calls and sheer excitement. Everyone wanted to hear the latest discovery. When a DJ finally played that elusive new track, the dance floor erupted. In those moments, DJs were gods.

People often ask about drugs because they're frequently associated with Northern Soul. Personally, I never saw much of it, although I wasn't looking for it either. Films have probably exaggerated that side of the story. For me and my friends, the music itself was the drug. So were bottles of water after dancing for hours on end—and, of course, there were always plenty of girls around too.

The reality is that drugs have been associated with almost every music scene throughout history. Sometimes the stories are exaggerated, sometimes they're justified, but I don't believe they were ever the defining feature of Northern Soul. The music was.

Although Northern Soul wasn't overtly political, I do think it represented a quiet form of rebellion. Not against the government or society in any organised sense, but against the lives people felt trapped in. They were rebelling against dead-end jobs, poor wages, limited opportunities and the feeling that nothing would ever change.

Putting on your best clothes—a pair of high-waisted Oxford bags, a Ben Sherman shirt—and heading off for an all-night session meant everything. Coming home with a few new 45s to play endlessly until the following weekend gave people something to hold on to. Those records became lifelines.

I know how fortunate I was. The Army gave me opportunities that many of my friends never had. Even now, when I visit my niece in Yorkshire, it's almost like stepping back in time. Many of the same streets remain unchanged, and for some people holidays are still places like Cleethorpes or Blackpool. For many, life has barely moved on. Perhaps that's why Northern Soul has never really disappeared.

An enduring legacy

More than fifty years later, people still fill dance floors at Northern Soul nights, and younger generations continue discovering the music. I think part of the reason is that the music itself is timeless. Motown remains, in my opinion, the finest popular music ever produced. Berry Gordy knew exactly what he was creating. Working alongside Smokey Robinson, with musicians like The Funk Brothers and the incomparable James Jamerson laying down those unforgettable bass lines, they created a sound unlike anything before or since.

Northern Soul took those remarkable records, gave them a second life and, in doing so, gave thousands of ordinary people something equally important.

It gave them hope, friendship, identity and, if only for one weekend at a time, an escape.