Will I Ever Get To Dance at a Venue Without 300 Homophobic Dudes? — PULP’s Sam Alfred Experience

When invited to Sam Alfred’s concert at Liberty Hall on Sunday, I was excited to watch this “global leader in electronic music” perform and groove to his tunes all night long. What I didn’t expect was to fall down a rabbit hole of rumination on the history of electronic music, the culture of the audience, and whether I — as a precocious woman who likes to dance big — will ever get to witness a DJ set without 300 straight white men acting obnoxiously. With the growing popularity of electronic music, attending sets and other dance events has become a sort of social currency amongst our generation. But can we keep the music alive without destroying the original inclusivity of this subculture? 

Sam Alfred grew up in Tasmania, moving to Melbourne for a career in electronic music. His parents played “a toolbox full of cassettes from Africa” which he incorporates alongside melodic pianos and synths, influenced by both his Egyptian and Sudanese heritage and his classical music background. These incorporate melodic pianos and synths and lively drums. Alfred has performed for Boiler Room at AVA Festival in Belfast, Pitch Festival, and opened for Fred Again. Despite this, he practices humility, stating “I’m just a dude who makes music from Tassie” in an interview with Resident Advisor. 

Upon arrival, my partner and I entered the ‘VIP entrance’. A dark corridor opened out into a room with bean bag chairs, two bars, and many white moustached boys sitting around with their bum bags. I should have noted this as obvious foreshadowing of what I was about to witness in the main concert space. We followed the thumping of the music to the stage, entering from the side. This granted us a clear view of Alfred with only a small crowd between us and the artist. Strips of LEDs surrounded Alfred, flashing reds and blues. Scaffolding amongst the crowd suspended spotlights that highlighted the artist and made his white t-shirt glow. Wow, I thought. PULP really got me the good stuff. I settled easily into the rhythmic beats and funky synths. 

The crowd was pushy. I was smushed between a bin that people kept poorly aiming empty cans at and two girls hogging the front barrier who were more engaged with their Snapchat profiles than the show. My heart sank a little. 

White boys and White Fox outfits surrounded us.

Despite this, Alfred’s set was lively. He sampled 2000s classics such as will.i.am’s ‘I Got It From My Mama’, elevating the original song to a more complex dance track with a faster tempo, more intense bass and groovy piano riffs. A bright timbre connected each mix to the next as Alfred embellished with punchy effects like whistles and echoes. He seamlessly incorporated his own original songs into the set too. His latest single ‘Feel The Friction’ opens with a piano chorus so joyous that I surrendered to the crowd. Everyone jumped up and down with glee and as much rhythm as their rhythmless bodies could muster.

Lads yelled, smashing their roblox-shaped torsos into each other. Girls crowded around each other’s phones, reading DMs from romantic interests. When Alfred remixed Chicago’s ‘Street Player’, a brassy late-70s song that features the recognisable trumpet solo, they ‘sang’ along, barking the lyricless chorus of the track. And they barked before Alfred had even gotten to chorus, as though the audience were excited three-year-olds who could not contain themselves any longer. Alfred beamed back, basking silently in their enthusiasm.

My inner spite towards my fellow audience contrasted with Alfred’s reaction to them. This made me wonder, maybe I am just a negative nelly, at an event where I am not the target audience? I racked my brain for possible explanations. Perhaps I was too bitter to put up with the crowd. But this was far from the truth,  I cheekily love to have a little push standoff (which makes my partner very annoyed).

Maybe we’re just living in a different time. After the concert, I reviewed Alfred’s Boiler Room X AVA set, noticing that the majority of the audience at that event were also white dudes with the same low taper fade haircuts and sunglasses. They bobbed their heads ambivalently and attempted to film the majority of the set, unable to just be in the moment. As events like Boiler Room have become increasingly popular, I sometimes wonder — are people coming to these things to have a boogie and support artists? Or are they going to find the validation that they seek? We all know that posting a blurry image with a Boiler Room logo in the background communicates a sort of social currency in our current day. Additionally, electronic music is incredibly easy to dance to. All you have to do is jump up and down, perhaps sticking a hand up in the air every few beat drops, which makes it the perfect gateway into dance culture.

I decided to go further back in time, listening to Carl Cox’s sets. Cox was a groundbreaking British DJ from the 90s and a founder of three-deck mixing. Cox and Alfred are similar in that they use classic dance samples alongside African drum beats and melodic instrumentals. But in the 90s and early 2000s, crowds just danced, having almost no means to film the electronic sounds. I think the lack of recording devices also allowed audiences to dance more freely, unafraid of being captured in the background of someone else’s Instagram story.

What saddens me most was the ignorance and heteronormativity of the crowd. I even heard one girl say to her friend after he incorrectly recognised a song, “you’re actually gay”. This jarred me. Who is using ‘gay’ as a pejorative IN 2025!!!???  The roots of electronic dance music were always grounded in queer and POC communities. The original Club Kids were a New York based youth movement, led strongly by LGBTQ icons including Australian performer Leigh Bowery. House music has always been played at gay clubs. And the late 80s rave scene was heavily influenced and developed by queer communities.

It is undeniable that Sam Alfred’s masterfully mixed grooves were appreciated by the entire audience on Sunday. And I’m glad that bum bag wearing moustached men are supporting artists like Alfred and keeping the dance scene alive. Alfred commented in an interview that “Every year [I] notice more people of colour DJing, getting more opportunities, doing bigger shows”. What I hope to see is that the audiences at these shows are more consciously inclusive of all types of people. I love dance music. And just as Whitney once said, “I wanna dance with somebody” In fact, I wanna dance with everybody! In a safe environment! Where white lads do not completely dominate!