UNCLTRD Vol. 17 / May 2024

Welcome back to UNCLTRD! For this month, we’ve framed our three articles around finding communities in a myriad of ways. We speak about running’s cultural renaissance and the emergence of run clubs, how we can find community through local music venues amidst a crisis of nightlife, and yes, even about the Bumble Fumble (or more specifically, how there’s not an algorithm for love) - enjoy!

Running’s Cultural Renaissance

Running is a funny one. As a high-profile sport, it never captured the glamour of other team-based sports. As the RHOC Substack puts it:

“Perhaps it was seen as too simple or uninvestable. No runner celebrities were driving fast cars, Paula Radcliffe didn’t have her own clothing line or perfume brand…it was all a bit ‘What I Talk About When I Talk About Running’, shitting yourself on a cobbled street in Barcelona, Casio stopwatches and boney elbows. But recently, that perception has flipped… Running is COOL now.”?

And dare I add, the culture of run clubs and the proliferation of marathon weeks makes it trendy? Blokecore, a trend that surfaced last year around football culture, has been replaced by track and field summer. We’re trading our vintage football jerseys for Alphafly 3s , ON x Loewe , and Strava .?

Running is no longer just about personal bests or calorie burning; it’s become a social event, with interest-based run clubs surfacing around city centres, and running kit becoming the new streetwear. Even marathons, a previous feat of individual achievement, have become more akin to a fashion week or a festival. As this Financial Times article states, “the festivalisation of running has turned race day into ‘race week.”’ Marathon weeks are now filled with an array of activities - breakfast runs, panel talks, and DJ nights. Brands are capitalising on this festive atmosphere, imbuing the community and cultural aspects that festivals have into running, thus turning it from an individual achievement to a community event. For instance, at the Paris marathon, Satisfy hosted T-shirt customization workshops, while Asics organised 5k and 10k races. New Balance's invite-only boat party on the Thames and their collaboration with rapper Loyle Carner at a London gig exemplify how marathons have become week-long celebrations of community and lifestyle.?

These brands above have benefitted from the running’s creative renaissance, where even the beginners are scrambling to get their hands on the latest shoe drop. In a world where ‘drops and pop ups’ were reserved for streetwear royalty (I remember the queues of trend-focussed kids outside of Supreme in 2016!!!), now niche running brands are finding their own footing in the cultural world of running. As this AColorBright report states, over ten years ago the ‘fashion’ behind running was reserved for the leaders of the sports world. Nike, Adidas and New Balance were the practical places to buy running shoes. And while always delivering in quality, perhaps 10 years ago they didn’t quite garner the hype that, say, Jordans did. But the introduction of challenger brand, On , with a focus on sleek running styles and heralding kit meant for running changed the game. This gave way to an explosion of coveted, elevated running gear brands, each crafting distinct identities and identifying with different cultural niches, and now all doing ‘drops’ the same way streetwear did over a decade ago . The modern runner’s kit has become a badge of honour, and brands like District Vision , Soar , and Satisfy are elevating running gear with high-end design and unique aesthetics.

But it’s not just about kit and marathons, what’s really elevated running’s social cache is the spirit of ‘run-clubs’ that has surfaced. New run clubs are providing a social outlet that contrasts sharply with traditional, competitive running clubs (that were solely performance-focussed and exclusive). This approach has attracted a diverse range of participants, including women under 25 who are now the fastest-growing demographic on Strava . Pubs are expensive, cafes kick you out after a ￡4.50 flat white, parks in English weather are unreliable, and people feel lost without a third space outside of their home and work. Run clubs are affordable, accessible and a place to feel a sense of belonging. They’re also dating spaces , which is becoming increasingly appealing as people are becoming disenfranchised with apps and more interested in meeting people IRL. And, as Lydia Douglas of RBC highlights, running clubs offer a way to meet and hang out without a reliance on alcohol, which is becoming increasingly important, particularly for Gen-Z.?

Running is no longer just about personal bests or calorie burning; it’s become a social event.

It’s important to note that none of this would really be possible without honouring the OG form of it: Run Dem Crew , who back in 2007 democratised running and instilling their core rules: WE ARE NOT A RUNNING CLUB. LEAVE YOUR EGO AT HOME. The first community-based running group of its kind, Run Dem Crew became a home to hundreds of people, a place to find connection in an increasingly isolating world.?

Running’s cultural resurgence embodies a move towards authenticity, community, and accessible fitness. It’s a trend that embraces the spirit of streetwear while fostering a sense of belonging and collective celebration. As we lace up our running shoes, we’re not just hitting the pavement—we’re joining a movement that’s redefining what it means to run.

Why We Need Our Local Music Venues

From supper clubs to run clubs, open jams to local gigs, Substack to Discord, people are constantly cultivating niche communities to break algorithm bubbles and content fatigue. Many have written about the need to capture the attention of these communities, and what drives them. For this article, I’d like to reflect slightly on my own New Year’s resolution: to try and go to my local venue more often and see new music (big up the weekly Irish folk jam at The Lamb in Islington!!). I want to unpack how communities are formed in local venues, and why they're becoming increasingly important. Namely, as people start to reach a fatigue in superstar tours, and are continuously starved of human connections, how can saving the local music venue act as an antidote to isolation? Additionally, can these local venues continue to serve as social hubs amidst a cost-of-living crisis and a general move away from excessive drinking culture?

Gen-Z, as we’ve previously discussed, are going out a lot less than previous generations. No one can afford it, people are becoming more socially anxious , and nightlife (at least in the UK) is shrinking at a rapid rate. This week alone, I may have stumbled across my umpteenth article on the death of nightlife in London. From March 2023 to December 2023, 3,011 night economy businesses have shut down in London alone (NTIA) . Late licences are nearly obsolete, and the only options I saw as I walked around Shoreditch at 11 pm on a Friday seemed to be Simmons.?

The loss of nightlife feels particularly shocking as people are finding fan-based communities. According to Vogue Business, 54% of Gen Z says that their favourite brands are the ones that make them feel like they’re part of a community. This resonates deeply with the current landscape where feeling like you belong to a social group feels critical.?

Digital music communities are thriving, on the other hand. Exclusivity is in - think Twitch, Web3, and Discord servers. Or look to the success of Charli XCX’s ‘superfan-only’ private account @360brat . The allure of access is powerful, and these communities help fan bases thrive, but things are shifting. Constant, unmarred access and digital demands for things immediately has permeated online culture for a decade now, and widespread availability is being traded for exclusive access.?

From March 2023 to December 2023, 3,011 night economy businesses have shut down in London alone.

This isn’t to say exclusivity is bad, but there’s a desire for this IYKYK experience to migrate into the real world. While social infrastructures are in the bin, there is a need for physical spaces. And, to repeat myself for the 100th time, people want to connect offline so freaking badly!?

As we become more disconnected, the struggling local venue could become a ‘third space’ where people can gather, interact, and build connections outside of their homes and workplaces. And most importantly, they are founded upon music and drivers of culture. This is increasingly relevant as brands reorient towards focusing on communities over the individual. Appealing to pockets of culture is essential for brands to foster a loyal customer base.

Local businesses can partner with local venues to appeal to a more niche, yet fully formed customer. For example, Arsenal bigging up their local chippy ‘Chip In Fish Bar’ shows a dedication to strengthening cultural ties in North London. While Arsenal is by no means a ‘local venue,’ it can serve as a blueprint for venues becoming integral parts of their local community fabric.?

54% of Gen Z says that their favourite brands are the ones that make them feel like they’re part of a community.

Local venues stand as vital bastions against social isolation, helping us to migrate offline. You can go for a night and see a great new act, you and the crowd now sharing a memory. Or, you go and see someone crap, and now you have an inside joke. Either way, it’s a place and time to belong. They provide spaces where genuine human connections can flourish, away from the noise of superstar tours and algorithm-driven content. By focusing on nurturing these local hubs, we can create stronger, more resilient communities that offer a sense of belonging and support.

The Bumble Fumble & Artificial Intimacy

I don’t have to be the one to tell you that Bumble’s recent campaign was a bit of a misstep. There have been countless amazing articles untangling the web of problems behind it (HERE ? HERE AND HERE ). Across social media, some have heralded it as the straw that breaks the dating app camel’s back. I’d like to argue that Bumble’s recent campaign blunder doesn’t signal the end of dating apps but rather marks a significant shift in how they must evolve to survive. In an era where loneliness pervades and dating has never felt so exhausting and vulnerable (or algorithmically driven), dating apps face a challenge: adapt or die.

The word ‘dating’ has always been a pretty loaded, confusing, and ultimately vulnerable idea. But now, it conjures up images of sliding into DMs, ghosting and the ever-exhausting yet still addictive dating app world… it’s relentless. While Bumble’s tone was off, they were right that women are exhausted by dating apps. An endless carousel of gamified algorithms and vulnerably putting oneself up for judgement. It all feels a bit bleak.?

Dating apps have de-risked and automated life, thus turning intimacy into a flat, streamlined, commercialised process held up by gamified algorithms that eliminate error. Our social muscles, built upon risk and connection, are atrophying, and relationships are suffering. As the BURNAFTERREADING Substack eloquently puts it,

“That’s not the only way algorithms are warping our understanding of love. The Era of Therapisation has us in a chokehold, feeding us a constant stream of content that helps us psychoanalyse and categorise.”

This world of online therapy-speak emerged as a solution to the toxicity of modern dating, but I’d argue it’s gone further into making us risk-averse. Again, that’s not to say these conversations aren’t important - they are! Red flags are real. But the proliferation of ‘green flag, tick!’ or ‘icks’, saying someone is love-bombing when they want a second date, and overall reliance on cautious measures of therapy-speak have made us lonelier than ever.

I’m not here to tout that dating online is a complete, technocratic nightmare, because that would be ridiculous. Plenty of happy, lifelong (or short flings! No shame) relationships have started from these apps. And people are looking for similar things. Data shows that a significant majority of both women (84%) and men (78%) seek equal partnerships and traditional romance. Women (59%) and men (38%) find chivalrous gestures like ensuring a date gets home safely to be important, and a substantial number prefer putting phones away during dates to foster genuine interaction. This suggests a desire for more meaningful connections that current dating apps are not adequately providing. It’s not a modern problem of romance, it’s how entrenched in algorithms it has become.?

What was more interesting than the Bumble Fumble was the founder’s exploration of a dating concierge . Whitney Wolfe Herd has suggested that online daters could have ‘AI concierges’ that ‘date’ each other to find the best possible matches. Because that’s exactly what will solve this crisis: more algorithms. The gamification of dating ostracises certain groups and fuels disillusionment with the dating process. Bumble’s mishap, while widely criticised, brings to light the deeper issue of how love has been commodified and reduced to a swipe. This gamification not only exhausts users but also fails to deliver on the genuine connections that these platforms promise.

This won’t save the apps. It won’t cater to our desire to get offline and meet a person IRL.? It won’t solve a crisis of nostalgia; a yearning to meet people ‘the old fashioned way.’ And it certainly won’t solve a crisis of dating exhaustion, which is what started this whole fumble in the first place. Exhaustion isn’t solved through more algorithms, it’s about instilling the (healthy) risk and playfulness back into dating, and taking it away from a place of overused prompts, constant swiping, and overall gamification of love.?

Women (84%) and men (78%) seek equal partnerships and traditional romance. Women (59%) and men (38%) find chivalrous gestures like ensuring a date gets home safely to be important.

Cultural theorist Agus Panzoni argues there is no algorithm for love. The reliance on algorithms to filter potential partners may inadvertently close off opportunities for successful matches. Instead of boiling dating down to a science, dating apps should focus on fostering real-life connections. Freya India , another cultural critic, discusses how these platforms have made us risk-averse. While caution is justified, excessive risk-aversion can hinder authentic connections and experiences.

So what comes next? Other apps are adapting more successfully. Tinder , while not excused from a long history of gamifying swiping and entrenching hook-up culture in a digital space (often without safety guardrails), created a recent campaign more fixated on overcoming the atrophying muscles of being connection-averse and encouraging people to take the first step with someone. Hinge (the same applies) is prioritising IRL experiences, investing money in getting people off the apps and meeting IRL (and partnering with Thursday to do so). Beyond apps, single-exclusive social clubs have been popping up, such as Ambyr in NYC. Or, as we wrote about before, will it instead signal a return to interest-based hobbies and groups? Can these communities help put some of the healthy risk back into dating, and crumble the gamified algorithms that taunt and exhaust us? Speed dating, supper clubs, and all of this is not necessarily solely romantic love, it encompasses love in all forms. Loneliness can be cured not just through romance but also through connection, and perhaps that has to come first for love to truly work (or at least, to kick the nasty habit ;) ).

Thanks for reading! Check out the rest of our insights here !