Rosie Peters-McDonald 

‘Ceilidh renaissance’ lures gen Z offline in search of real-life joy

Young dancers at the Ivy House in south-east London join the older crowd amid a renewed appetite for authentic, community events
  
  

Young people dancing in a folk style with two holding their arms up in an arch for a third to go underneath. Others are doing the same behind them and there are musicians and a caller on stage. They are in a wood-panelled room in a pub.
‘It’s really lovely to come together in spaces with lots of different people,’ said one dancer at the ceilidh at the Ivy House in Nunhead, south-east London. Photograph: Martin Godwin/The Guardian

The Ivy House pub in Nunhead, south-east London, has long been associated with raucous music, with the rock legends Ian Dury and Elvis Costello gracing its stage in the 70s, and indie favourites caroline and Kiran Leonard pulling in crowds today. But last Friday, it was a traditional Scottish ceilidh dance rather than a grassroots gig luring London’s cool kids to its sticky dancefloor.

The event is emblematic of a renewed appetite for analogue, in-person experiences among a younger generation plagued by a loneliness epidemic and fatigued by meeting people on dating apps.

“We spend a lot of time looking at screens,” said Matt, who saw the event as a refreshing way to spend time offline. “It’s really lovely to come together in spaces with lots of different people.”

The popularity of the ceilidh is evidenced by the launch of Ceilidh the Musical, which promises a “heart-warming party” with no experience required and started its tour at Shoreditch town hall, east London, last week.

According to the ticketing platform Eventbrite, from 2024-25 ticket sales for ceilidh events in the UK grew by 16%, while there was 15% growth globally. Page Dudley, a spokesperson for the platform, said young people were looking for events that were “communal and a lot less polished”.

“It’s my first time at a proper ceilidh,” said George, 35, at the Ivy House. “I just like how silly it can be. It just makes you feel alive.”

His partner, Louise, 32, was also a ceilidh first-timer. She said she liked how nobody was judging other people’s dance abilities. “It’s nice that it’s all ages,” she said. “When you strip away the ego, everyone just becomes their childlike selves.”

Jamie, 19, is a seasoned ceilidh attender and said they were becoming much more popular among his peers. He has even bumped into schoolfriends unexpectedly at ceilidhs. “Everyone is just laughing at the same stuff, especially when people get confused [with the dance moves],” he said.

Anna Spree, the communications, events and fundraising assistant at Link Age Southwark, which raised money from ticket sales at the Ivy House dance, said the “ceilidh renaissance” had allowed the local anti-loneliness charity to reach new people.

“[The dances] were accessible enough that anyone could join in, but also slightly complex, which made them a lot more fun,” she added.

Ceilidh, which comes from the Gaelic word for “visit” or “gathering”, originated in Scotland and Ireland in the 19th century.

“I’ve noticed the ceilidhs we’ve been putting on have been attended by a lot of under-30s,” said Alison Craig, a guitarist in the South East London Folk Orchestra (SELFolk), which provided the music on Friday.

The ceilidh was organised after a successful dance in the same pub last year, which Craig recalls was bustling with young ceilidh newcomers. “The last time I saw the Ivy House bouncing like that was in about 1975,” she said.

Although this particular ceilidh took place in a bar, Craig maintained that ceilidhs could be good for dry nights out, too: “You think, bloody hell, I’ve just had a Saturday night out and not had a drink.”

Ed McCabe, the founder of London Ceilidh Club, has also noticed the shift. “Ever since Covid, it’s really boomed,” he said. “People just want to be in a room together.” He believes ceilidhs have “low barriers to entry” and are a great place to meet new people – or even find love.

“There’s a whole aspect that you can’t look cool while you’re doing it,” he said. “You’re sweaty, you can’t stop smiling … it’s a great place to meet someone.”

Craig echoed this: “It’s not about trying to look sexy or really cool,” she said. “Not to say ceilidhs aren’t sexy or cool, because they can be. You just need to get into it and enjoy it.”

Richard Jones, who plays the accordion in SELFolk, suggested another great thing about ceilidhs was that they weren’t heteronormative. “It’s non-gender, if you like,” he said.

His bandmate Neil McLean, who plays the flute, agreed. “We don’t really do men and women, we do ones and twos,” he said. “It’s the opposite of not being picked for sports at school.”

SELFolk hosts regular ceilidhs which attract a crowd across all ages, according to Jones. “[People] know it’s safe, they know they can have a good time, and they don’t need to come in groups,” he said. “Very quickly the group becomes its own community.”

 

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