Aaron Ladyfields is taking over the Northern soul scene, spinning old vinyl singles for wild young crowds. So why are some of London’s coolest teenagers rebelling against the digital age?
“That was amazing,” Aaron Ladyfields says, grinning proudly, “that was so good”.
He’s talking about a recent gig in Essex, where he spun old soul records for a sold-out crowd of all ages. Along with his friends, Connor and Ollie, he runs Sherry’s Soul Society, a DJ collective formed of current and former employees of Sherry’s, the iconic Soho mod shop.
They’re one of a spate of young DJs and promoters leading the Northern soul revival in the UK, alongside Heart of Soul Lewisham, Bristol Northern Soul Club and Soul Stompers. At only eighteen, he’s one of the youngest.
Northern soul originated in the 1960s, with white, working-class Northerners dancing to Black soul music imported from America. The acrobatic dance moves, upbeat tempo and emotive vocals were what drew Aaron in as a two-stepping ska fan, and photos of him high kicking have now featured in Fred Perry and Vogue.
We agreed to meet in a café in Elephant and Castle, right next to LCC, where he’s just started his Film and Screen Studies undergraduate studies.
Aaron looks like someone who would work in a vintage suit shop. All dark curls, sideburns and tight trousers, he wears leather loafers and carries a Fred Perry barrel bag, the favoured brand of the Northern soul fanatic.
He has an encyclopaedic knowledge of all things mod, but thinks gatekeeping subcultures is a bad idea: “People can decide whether they’re mod or not”.
Aaron lives with his parents in Debden, Essex, a suburban town on the Northern end of the Central Line. While most of his family support Chelsea, Aaron has stuck firmly with League One side Leyton Orient, another sixties throwback in the midst of a revival.
His friends Connor and Ollie would regularly come over to practise spinning 45s on Aaron’s Dad’s turntables. But why not just do it digitally? Well, even if they wanted to, they “don’t have any USB sticks […] or hard drives or anything,” and the distinctive crackle of those rare seven-inch singles is a direct link to Aaron’s predecessors: “You never know how many soul nights that record has played before you bought it.”
One of the most distinctive features of a Sherry’s night is the old telephones the DJs use as headphones. “Ollie made [it] himself” Aaron says, “he cut the end off, re-soldered it and now it’s got a headphone jack.” Does it sound any good when you’re cueing up the next song? “It sounds terrible. Headphones are way better, but they’re not as cool.”
The amphetamine-fuelled all-nighters of the seventies are the stuff of legend, but is Gen-Z as abstinent as the media say?
“Depends on the night,” says Aaron, taking a sip of his double espresso. Nowadays, if you want to dance until dawn, you stay off the booze and pop a Pro Plus caffeine pill, or simply down a Red Bull. Speed and coke are still widely used, Aaron admits, but it’s definitely “not as prevalent” as in the past.
So what’s the future for Sherry’s Soul Society? They’ve already played Aaron’s dream venue, the stunning Rivoli Ballroom, in March, so he has his eye on DJing the annual World Northern Soul Dance Championships in Blackpool.
But the biggest prize? Gathering together all the young soul DJs from across the country for “one big night.” Ultimately, Aaron would love for people to “start making soul music again” so there’s “more for us to play.”
All images courtesy of Jeanie Jean (Instagram: @jeaniejeanphotos)