Forget the trophy, London's clubs won the World Cup

Sometimes the best days out aren't the ones with the best music. I spent Saturday at Silverworks Island for Fisher, and I came away thinking surprisingly little about the set. If you'd asked me on the train home what my biggest takeaway was, it wouldn't have been a particular track or a standout moment behind the decks. It was simply that I'd had a good day out with friends.

That's not to say Fisher was bad. He wasn't. There were moments where the energy was undeniable, and watching thousands of people losing it to tech house grooves in the middle of a London heatwave is difficult not to enjoy. Equally, there were stretches where the set felt a little uneven. I had fun, Fisher played the hits while some genuinely ridiculous visuals played out on the screen behind him, but there wasn't anything transcendent about it.

A younger version of me would've walked away thinking that meant it had been an average day. Instead, I left with a massive grin on my face.

Because somewhere over the last few years I've realised that summer clubbing has its own rules. Once the sun's out, the music almost becomes secondary. Of course you want a DJ who can keep the atmosphere ticking over, but the real appeal is everything happening around the set rather than on the stage itself.

It's spending an afternoon with the same group of people you'll probably see every other weekend until September, plus a handful of newcomers who somehow get folded into the group by the end of the day. Or, in our case, everyone gathering under the one patch of shade we could find, front left of the stage. It's introducing different friendship groups to one another and somehow discovering they already know each other through someone else. It's wandering off to grab another drink, getting distracted by a conversation, then realising half an hour has disappeared and you've lost everyone but somehow made new friends. It's finding someone to sit because your feet need five minutes off while you talk absolute rubbish as the bass thumps away in the background.

Those are the moments I remember long after I've forgotten which remix closed the set.

I've always found that funny because dance music (and newsletters about dance music) can be guilty of taking itself a little too seriously. We obsess over line-ups, analyse track selections, argue over whether DJs are pushing the genre forward or playing it safe. Online discourse turns every festival into a scorecard.

Then you actually go outside, and none of it seems especially important. It's just you, some friends and a few tunes in the sunshine.

Most people aren't standing there analysing phrasing or wondering whether that third transition could have been tighter. They're laughing with their mates, taking terrible photos they'll forget to post, queuing for drinks, catching up on relationships and jobs and holidays, dancing when the tune they love comes on and chatting through the ones they don't.

That's what I found myself doing for most of Saturday.

There was also a genuinely lovely moment when Fisher brought his daughter, Bobbi, out onto the stage. Now, I'm about as far from a paternal person as you're likely to find. Babies have always fallen into the category of "lovely... for someone else." But even I couldn't help smiling as she wandered around the DJ booth, happily bopping away while thousands of people cheered her on. There was something disarmingly wholesome about it. For a few minutes, this huge headline show stopped feeling like a slick festival production and instead felt like watching someone proudly show their kid what they do for a living.

Maybe that's why the day stuck with me more than the music itself. Summer has a way of stripping clubbing back to its essentials. You don't need the perfect set, the rarest IDs or a career-defining performance from the headliner. Sometimes all you need is decent weather, a soundtrack that's good enough, and a group of people you're happy to spend six or seven hours with. Everything else is a bonus.

As I was leaving Silverworks Island, I realised I couldn't really tell you the exact order Fisher played his biggest tracks. In a week, I'll probably remember even less of the set itself.

I'll remember the conversations. I'll remember squeezing into the only bit of shade we could find. I'll remember everyone drifting apart and somehow ending up back together an hour later. And, slightly unexpectedly, I'll remember Bobbi dancing around the decks while her dad grinned like every proud parent ever has.

That's summer, really. The music just gives everyone a reason to be there.

Something a little different this week, this UKG-flavoured mix from Greek DJ Runner. This wobbly garage mix is perfect for the UK's unending heatwave, trust me.

I wrote this earlier this week before last night's agonising England V Argentina match. Sorry for anyone I'm subjecting to the heartbreak all over again. I'm sad too, if it helps.

For the last month, something strange has happened in London nightlife, People have been queuing outside clubs at 4PM. Not because there was a surprise daytime rave or a secret guest DJ. Because there was football on.

The World Cup has turned dancefloors into fan zones. Venues that would normally spend their midweeks doing stock checks, soundchecks and generally waiting for midnight to happen have suddenly been serving drinks to crowds packed with football shirts, plastic pints and nervous energy. Then, after the final whistle, the football disappears, the lights go down, and the DJs take over.

It's been good programming, and a real shot in the arm for a nightlife industry that desperately needs it.

Rather than treating football as competition, London's clubs have embraced it. Venues across the city have screened every match, not just England games. Places that would normally sit empty until 10PM have suddenly found themselves with customers at random times, serving food, drinks and creating an atmosphere that rolls naturally into the night's club programme.

It's not just clubs, either. The best match experience I've had all tournament was settling in to watch Spain dismantle the competition at a Thai restaurant on Portobello Road. It was completely unexpected, but that's exactly why it worked. Everywhere that could fit a giant TV decided to do it this summer: restaurants, bars, pubs, clubs. Everyone seemed to realise the same thing that pubs have known forever.

People aren't just looking for somewhere to watch football. They're looking for somewhere to watch football together.

I ended up watching England's game against Ghana at Egg, and while the execution wasn't quite perfect, the idea absolutely was. Two B2B DJs were still hammering out club tracks right up until kick-off, which made for a slightly surreal build-up. Instead of the usual tension before a major tournament match, there was someone trying to convince us to dance to afro house on a dancefloor full of chairs and tables.

It didn't exactly scream "football's coming home." But once the match started, none of that mattered.

The atmosphere was brilliant. There was something oddly satisfying about watching England in a venue I'd normally associate with all-night sessions. The cheers echoed around a room that would usually be full of strobes and smoke. Every attack had people leaning forward together. Every chance produced a different reaction depending on which side of the room you were standing.

Egg was full of Ghana supporters that night, turning every moment into a tiny tug of war between two sets of very respectful fans. It was weirdly perfect. A nightclub had somehow become one of the best places to watch football.

A few weeks later, I found myself at Silverworks Island after Fisher. The headline set had finished, but rather than everyone immediately heading for the exits, thousands of people stayed to watch the football together on the big screens.

Earlier this week I wrote that Silverworks felt less like a gig and more like a genuinely lovely day out, and this was part of the reason why. By the time the football came on, it almost felt like being at a festival. Groups squatted uneasily on the stones, people queued for food, strangers chatted about the game, and there was no rush to get anywhere.

I didn't stay for long. The fear of ending up stranded slightly too far east eventually got the better of me, and I decided to make a sensible escape before the crowds did after Norway scored.

But walking out while everyone else settled in to watch the match, I couldn't help thinking how naturally it all fitted together. That's what London's clubs have got right.

It's also the first time I can remember clubs properly opening up to show the football. For years, there's been this assumption that football fans and clubbers are completely different crowds.

But in reality, they're often exactly the same people. Plenty of people spend Saturday afternoon watching football before heading straight on to a rave. Plenty of DJs disappear halfway through soundcheck to check the score. Plenty of promoters are football fans themselves.

The overlap has always existed. It just hasn't always been acknowledged.

More importantly, both cultures are built around the same thing: shared experiences. Watching football at home is fine. Putting some techno on while you're at home is alright. But both are better when you do it with other people.

You don't go to a club because it's the only place you can hear techno. Soundcloud exists. You don't go to a football screening because it's the only place showing the match. The TV exists.

You go because being surrounded by other people changes the experience.

That's why this has worked so well.

From a business perspective, it's clever too. Nightlife has had a rough few years. Clubs are under pressure from rising costs, changing habits and people thinking twice before spending £30 on a ticket and another £8 on a drink. Every hour a venue sits empty is money disappearing.

The World Cup has offered something different. Instead of opening at 10pm and hoping people arrive, clubs have found a reason to welcome people through the doors hours earlier. They can sell food, drinks and create an atmosphere that naturally rolls into whatever's happening later that evening.

The football doesn't replace the club night. It becomes the warm-up.

It's also a reminder that clubs don't have to define themselves purely by what's happening in the DJ booth.

The best venues have always been community spaces as much as music venues. Somewhere to celebrate birthdays, catch up with friends, discover new artists and meet people you wouldn't otherwise cross paths with. Adding football into that mix doesn't dilute club culture. If anything, it reinforces what makes it special in the first place.

We spend a lot of time talking about how clubs need to diversify. More wellness events. More daytime programming. Better food. Better community engagement.

Maybe one answer was sitting right there every four years. Give people somewhere fun to watch football.

The irony is that when people talk about the winners of this World Cup, they'll naturally focus on whichever nation lifts the trophy. But from where I'm standing, London's nightlife has quietly had an excellent tournament of its own.

Clubs have introduced thousands of people to venues they might never otherwise have visited. They've proved that dance music spaces don't have to exist separately from the rest of culture. And they've reminded people that clubs aren't just places you go after midnight.

They're places where communities come together.

The football will disappear next week. The giant screens will come down, the shirts will be swapped for sunglasses at night, and DJs will once again become the main attraction.

But I hope one thing sticks around. Because if there's one thing this World Cup has shown, it's that London's clubs don't just sell music. They sell the feeling of experiencing something with other people.

Football just happened to be the excuse this summer. Maybe we can do this all again for the Euros?

Highlight of the week here is probably Seth Troxler, but I'd be remiss not to point you at Eris Drew and matter on Friday night, a pair of solid techno options down south for anyone brave enough to make the trip.

This weekend is a Warm Up weekend so there's a good chance I'll be there, but FJAAK at Fold is also a compelling option. Very few wrong answers here, go out and get stuck into something fun, why don't you?

Friday

• Matter - Massi NPL b2b Hostmigrate The Greyhound
• ❈ Eris Drew ❈ Kiernan Laveaux ❈ Daisy Moon MOT
• Hartronika Secret location

Saturday

• Seth Troxler, Magda B2B Mari.te, Matias Aguayo (Live), RSquared, Joëlla Jackson Fabric
• FJAAK Fold
• Hodge, Joe Milli, Laurel Halo, NIKS & Peverelist Palais

Sunday

• World Cup Final [DJs & Game Screening] Koko
• CAYA: OOZ - Mr Cenz, AndreeA, Miles Atmospheric Fabric

• Protesters were trampled at a "die-in" protest at Boiler Room NYC last weekend. The protesters were against owners KKR, this video is pretty horrendous; it seems lucky no one there was more seriously hurt.
• A new online tool is here to help you find local radio stations. Community Radio Index currently has 297 stations, so go have a nose.
• It feels like each week there's more bad news. This week is no different; Dutch Drum and Bass DJ & producer Lenzman has sadly died.