Can you actually dance here?

I had a pretty unexpected weekend. I had tickets to see Ignez at Fold and DVS1 at Palais, but a muscle injury I picked up on Thursday meant I wasn't feeling my usual energetic self, so instead I went to see Selen play a surprise headline set at HWK in Hackney Wick and then went along to Innervisions to see Ivory, before realising transport was so messed up I might as well just spend the day there instead.

I wouldn't say it was a weekend off, as such: I still went to a day festival and danced until my sore back told me it was time to give it a rest. But it was a lot chiller than my usual weekends and saw me getting sleep at a fairly reasonable time. How novel.

Innervisions, held at Boston Manor Park using the facilities already set up for Junction 2, was hard going and I was a slave to my friends who were desperate to get to the front of The Bridge. Sometimes we made it, other times we ended up halfway to our friends, trapped in the middle of a crowd full of people that were furious to be stuck elbow to elbow with everyone else, as if they were surprised that the event might have attracted a crowd.

My movements at The Bridge were largely apologetic. Being 6'8 people get really pissed off when you stand in front of them, but you also need a tiny bit more space to bounce around. I found myself moving not to get closer to the DJ. Not to improve my view. Not to find better sound. Often it was just to get enough space so that I could actually move without whacking three strangers every time I lifted an elbow.

No matter how many times we pushed most of the way to the front, part of the group (joined eagerly by me) ended up falling back, retreating to the back of the crowd at The Bridge or even the whole way back to The Woods, where the names were theoretically smaller, but there was more space and a crowd that seemed less insistent on pushing forwards for the sake of it.

This isn't unique to The Bridge. You see it at festivals, warehouse shows and outdoor events all over the country. A crowd forms, everyone faces forwards, and an invisible force seems to pull people closer and closer to the booth. Every gap gets filled. Every bit of breathing room disappears. Eventually you're standing shoulder to shoulder, trying to enjoy the music while trying not to spill your drink.

The strange part is that most people don't seem any happier once they've got there. There's a peculiar phenomenon in dance music where people become so determined to get to the front that they sacrifice the very thing they came for. The closer they get, the less they are able to dance. Arms are pinned to their sides. Feet barely move. Any attempt at an actual dance becomes an exercise in crowd management.

It feels like for these bigger shows we, as a scene, have somehow convinced ourselves that proximity to the DJ equals a better experience. But does it?

This very newsletter is called FrontLeft, so you would be forgiven for thinking we're encouraging this sort of behaviour, but actually my greatest wish is all you get to experience dance music in the way that works for you. People's tolerance for big crowds will be different from person to person - a new friend from Innervisions laughed at me because I need to hold on to someone's shoulder to navigate a full crowd or I'll get left behind - and if standing at the front is your happy place then more power to you.

Unless you're desperate to read the labels on the CDJs, being twenty metres closer rarely changes much. The music usually sounds much the same. The visuals are slightly bigger. In exchange, you're giving up the freedom to lose yourself in the music. For me, it's not a worthwhile trade.

I prefer, instead, dancing while looking at my friends. It's not that you can't have a good time at the front, you can. Some of my favourite sets have been there. But the moments I remember most rarely involve staring at a DJ. They involve laughing with friends, catching the eye of a stranger who's as locked into the groove as you are, or suddenly finding yourself in one of those little pockets of space where everyone seems to have silently agreed they're here to dance rather than queue for a better view.

That's why I think this obsession with the front, not the place necessarily, but with making our way there through the crowds is making our dancefloors worse. Not because the front is inherently bad, but because it changes how we behave. We stop looking at each other and start looking in one direction. We stop joining a dancefloor and start joining an audience.

I don't think that's an accident. Over the past decade dance music has become increasingly spectacular. Bigger LED walls. Bigger productions. Bigger DJ personalities. Festivals have become incredible at creating moments that look amazing on Instagram or in an aftermovie, but they also encourage us to experience the night like spectators rather than participants. If the most important thing on stage is happening in front of you, of course everyone wants to get closer to it.

The irony is that electronic music has never really been about watching. It's about doing. Dancing releases endorphins, dopamine and whatever serotonin your substance-affected brain can scrape together. It's a runner's high without the run. A chance to communicate with strangers without saying a word. The DJ matters, of course they do, but they're only one part of what makes a great rave.

I spoke to a DJ friend once who said that given the choice she'd play all of her sets hidden away in a booth out of eyeline so it was just all about the music. I think that's probably slightly too much of an overcorrection, but it does make me think of when DJs are playing at Fold and you can barely see them through the haze of the smoke machines. At Fold, participation is the most important thing and for me that's probably why the dancefloor is often so memorable.

Maybe it's time to step back. Literally. The back isn't where the atmosphere goes to die. Quite often it's where it begins. It's where circles form. It's where people smile at strangers. It's where someone starts dancing without worrying whether they look ridiculous, permitting everyone else to do the same.

The next time you arrive at a stage and instinct tells you to squeeze another five metres forward, ask yourself one simple question.

Can I actually dance here?

Because if the answer's no, it might be worth taking a few steps back. After all, if we're going to dance music events without dancing, what are we actually there for?

This week's mix is from our In The Booth DJ, Pableeto.

In his own words: "I played at a friend’s party recently and rediscovered some old favourites. The mix is largely bumpy, proggy house and tech. A few leftfield choices and wavey cosmic songs made the cut too. Hope ya dig."

I don't get to see Pableeto enough, but I always grin when I see a loud shirt shimmy through the crowd towards me because it means he's arrived. I'm no stranger to a loud shirt myself during the summer, but Pableeto, real name Pablo, has turned it into an art form.

The same is true of his sets, which bounce between genres. At Mezzanine a few months ago, he artfully showed me how he likes to loop to create ultra-long transitions, chatting away to me in the front row as he effortlessly kept the crowd bouncing around.

What’s the first track that made you understand what a dancefloor could do?
I saw Francesco del Garda back to back with Craig Richards for an all-night-long billing at Fabric. This was when I had first moved back to London and was just getting into “dance” music. I’d heard terms like tech and tech house, but hadn’t really found a definitive reference song/sound at this stage beyond the Ibiza Final Boss type of tech house and I knew that wasn’t for me. I showed up not knowing what to expect beyond just broadening my horizons.

What followed was a night of wonky rollers that cemented my love for tech, breaks and electro and just odd groovy music (aka Swedgers). The one song that I was able to Shazam was Kutika by Latrec. It lives in a folder called ‘droids’ in my record box. I remember the place just erupting at the breakdown around the five-minute mark. It was the first time I saw a somewhat minimal-ish track getting that kind of reaction and I was instantly hooked in search of my own crate of wonky tech.

What is your earliest memory of dance music?
Being mesmerised by the wizardry of watching my older brother mix on vinyl. He was a massive Roger Sanchez fan, and my earliest memories of the music he was playing were that sort of golden-age Ibiza house sound. He tried and failed many times to get me started DJing earlier, but I was more interested in classic rock at that point in time.

What do you notice from the booth that no one else sees?
It’s always the person walking onto the dance floor, fist pumping and dancing into the crowd that gets me. If everyone's facing the booth I may be the only one to catch that, and it always makes me smile.

When was the last time a crowd surprised you?
I played Effra Social not too long ago, which is typically a more mixed crowd of just regular punters having a few beers, ABBA requests and occasionally people pre-drinking before going to Phonox. I ended up playing a good 45 minutes of Italo for a pretty youngish crowd and they loved it. It was so nice to see. Even had a few asking for IDs.

What part of you only exists on a dancefloor?
Maybe not the only part, but certainly the most consistently present I’ve ever felt is being locked into the journey with the DJ and time melts away. Sunglasses on, head down, grooving away.

What song do you keep in your back pocket to cause trouble?
Salsa 313 by the 12th Floor. I love Latin sounds. It’s very percussive and is kind of leftfield. I like to use it as a curveball to shake up the crowd and switch up the mood.

How do you describe your sound?
I like to play with lots of genres. I’ve already mentioned my love of wonky house and tech, but I equally like Balearic, vocal/garage house, disco, and most progressive and leftfield sounds. I also like to keep a couple of cosmic and ethereal-sounding songs in all my folders, and if there was one recurring thread in my collection it’s that.

Who's your partner in crime?
I have two. My friend Justine, who is now Malaysia-based, but visits when she can. We both started DJing around the same time and actually organised our event together (Kosmic Kommune), courtesy of Faded Society's Faded Presents.

I must also mention my fellow loose goose and Queen of the Geese Maisito, who I run Leese Geese with. I’ve learned loads from DJing with her back to back over the years.

Why do you dance?
I think it’s because I like to let myself go and express myself. More than once I’ve had to check myself in a non-club setting to not do a cheeky fist bump and a boogie if a tune came on, I can’t help not dancing sometimes.

How did you get your DJ name?
Honestly, I just anglicised Pablito to include two e's as the proper Spanish spelling was already taken on Instagram. And everyone always calls me Pablito.

You came to dance music relatively late. Do you think that gives you a different perspective from DJs who grew up immersed in club culture?
I don’t think so, at least from what I can tell from talking to my friends. I would say I’ve always been interested in the history, though, particularly tracing how genres and subgenres evolved and learning about the records/clubs that shaped those initial sounds, as well as the cultural backdrop at the time.

You started as a guitarist before becoming a DJ. What habits or ideas carried across?

I would say the biggest carry-over is just being patient with yourself in terms of the rate of progress. I also have a decent threshold for doing the boring stuff like ‘drills’ or exercises, more so lately learning to mix on vinyl. I would spend hours practising scales, or learning a solo, so I just applied the same concept to beatmatching using the same handful of records until I felt comfortable.

You've spoken about discovering disco backwards, through house music. Was there a record that suddenly made everything click?

One that springs to mind is The Spirit's in It by Patti LaBelle. Not strictly disco disco, but it wouldn't feel out of place in a disco set. I found it a kind of spiritual experience the first time I heard it. It’s funky, emotive but polished. Patti properly belts some of those high notes - the vocal range is amazing, and the overarching musicianship and arrangement are fantastic. It builds to a powerful crescendo. Worth a listen.

Is there a piece of advice another DJ gave you that's stuck with you?

Don't deny the audience the song. This is a funny one and not necessarily blanket advice, sometimes you have to keep things moving along. But as someone who favours long transitions and letting a song play as long as possible, if a song has a sweet keyboard solo after the breakdown, then it’s getting played out vs a quick cut.

Has the rise of one-hour festival sets changed what audiences expect from DJs?

I think it has to. I’m not against variety, but it’s hard to really gauge anything meaningful in an hour (for me at least) when on the dancefloor. The experience is also more disjointed if you’re changing DJs every hour. Audiences will naturally just expect the hits or the heaters if they’re waiting to see their favourite DJ but it’s only an hour-long billing. A festival is one thing, it’s a different vibe and setting, but I think it’s a no-go for the club setting and I just won’t bother if I know it's a certainty, and I am always disappointed if the DJ I wanted to see only got booked for an hour - as I want my money’s worth.

If you could programme every club, would you book fewer artists for longer sets?
Longer sets and fewer artists definitely. I’m a massive fan of a marathon set or an all-night-long billing. This isn't obviously to everyone’s taste, but as I said, I like getting my money’s worth. I also like seeing what a DJ can do over an extended period and what story they tell over the night into the early hours. Even better if they play several genres and surprise you. The first extended set I saw was Eris Drew, who I saw play for at least five hours (I think?!) at Corsica Studios. Just when I thought I knew what to expect, there'd be another curveball or a moment on the dancefloor, which felt like a collective experience for the whole room. The energy was insane too, for such a small, packed and sweaty room.

It's Maiden Voyage weekend for all who observe it. While I've never done it, all of my friends rave about Maiden Voyage and i'm excited to get out and dance with a few people that I haven't shared a dancefloor with in a long time. If there's one regret, it's that the set times have HAAi and Yaeji clashing, and I'm very sad about it.

Burgess Park is having a strong weekend, as the next day Eastern Electrics returns after a year off, delivering Mau P, Groove Armada, Skream and Mella Dee amongst several others.

It's a strong day festival weekend, and makes me wish Monday was a bank holiday. Four Tet's Finsbury Park all-dayer is returning on Saturday while lots of my friends are trekking off to Adriatique that day instead. Anjunadeep will take over Royal Naval College on the Sunday, too.

Friday

• krankbrother presents: Sammy Virji Finsbury Park
• FOLD presents KEY VINYL (EXTENDED) Fold
• Overmono present Pure Devotion Old Royal Naval College

Saturday

• Maiden Voyage Burgess Park
• Adriatique present X on the Thames Old Royal Naval College
• krankbrother presents: Four Tet All Dayer Finsbury Park

Sunday

• Eastern Electrics Burgess Park
• Anjunadeep Open Air on the Thames Old Royal Naval College

• German courts have ruled that AI music outfit Suno has breached copyright in a landmark AI case.
• BBC Radio 6 Music is launching a new weekly show, Rave Forever, aiming to celebrate Black British dance music in collaboration with The Music Is Black, a V&A East exhibition.
• There's video evidence of Poop Circle. Sorry.