When Phones Replace Presence: How We’re Losing the Real Vibe of Clubs and Festivals

Image via The Conversation

By Christos, Founder of Rave Quarters

I’ve been around this scene long enough to notice when something changes, and lately the feeling is hard to ignore. The dancefloor doesn’t feel the same anymore. Not because the music has changed or because the artists are different, but because the way people experience events has shifted. Phones are everywhere. People filming constantly, holding them up for entire sets, recording stories, clips, moments that were never really meant to be watched back. Moments that were meant to be felt.

More and more, I see people attending events with their focus split between the DJ and their phone. Instead of dancing, letting go, or connecting with the people around them, they are thinking about angles, lighting, and what will look good online. Years ago, it felt different. You might record a short clip, maybe a drop you loved or a track you wanted to remember, and then your phone stayed in your pocket. The rest of the night was about movement, sweat, and shared energy. You danced with strangers, smiled at people you didn’t know, and felt part of something bigger. Today, it often feels like the experience exists more on social media than on the dancefloor itself. This isn’t only about the crowd. It’s also about the industry. Promoters, venues, labels, managers, artists, all of us play a role in shaping how events feel. If we’re honest, we’ve allowed this culture to grow without really questioning it. A moment that stuck with me happened in Cyprus, when Adam Port played at an event that was promoted as having a no-phone policy. Stickers were placed on phone cameras at the entrance, but once inside, phones were everywhere. Flashes, recordings, people filming almost nonstop. Adam Port later addressed it publicly, pointing out the contradiction. It went viral, partly because it was ironic, but mostly because it highlighted a bigger issue. A no-phone policy that isn’t taken seriously doesn’t mean much. It becomes a concept without substance. I’ve seen that it doesn’t have to be this way. In Germany and Amsterdam, especially during ADE, I’ve attended events where no-phone policies were clearly communicated and properly enforced. Phones simply weren’t part of the night. Only official media were allowed to record. The difference was immediate. People danced more freely, talked more openly, and connected without distraction. The energy felt raw and honest again, closer to what club culture was always meant to be. That isn’t nostalgia. It’s proof that when boundaries are clear, the atmosphere changes.

The reality is that we don’t need everyone recording everything. We already have aftermovies, professional photography, official videos, and full DJ sets uploaded online. Nothing disappears if people don’t film every second themselves. If anything, the opposite happens. The experience becomes stronger when people are actually present. Of course there should be space for promoters, official media, and selected creators to capture moments, but that should be limited. When most of the crowd is filming, something feels off. Electronic music was never about content. It was about community. About people coming together to escape daily routines, lose themselves in sound, and share an experience with others. Laughing together, dancing together, feeling something real together. Lately, it feels like we’re slowly replacing that with performance and validation, and that should make us pause.

I don’t blame anyone for this. Not influencers, not ravers, not people who are new to electronic music. Social media is part of our lives now, and sharing experiences has become second nature. Still, I can’t help but feel that something important is being lost. When your attention is on your screen, even just a little, you’re no longer fully present. And presence is what this culture was built on. This isn’t meant as an attack on anyone. It’s simply an invitation to reflect. Promoters need to stand behind the concepts they promote. Venues need to support and enforce them. Artists should feel backed when they ask for presence. And as ravers, myself included, we need to remember why we go out in the first place. Capture a moment if you want to, then put the phone away. Dance, connect, and be there. Because if we lose that, we don’t just lose a vibe. We lose the soul of the scene.