This post is about 90s dance music and the New York City (and surrounding areas) nightclub scene. I’m not exactly proud of my taste in music back then, but I am proud of the countless good times I had in those nightclubs. There’s a lot to tell from that era, and if you were alive and if you happened to have resided in the New York tri-state area, you might relate to what I’m about to share. Or maybe you were annoyed by the whole thing. Or perhaps, like most people, you sat somewhere in between.
I grew up about an hour north of New York City, in what’s known as a bedroom community, a suburb where most residents commute into the city for work. My town wasn’t particularly exciting, and like many other residents, I often lamented its lack of activity. While it wasn’t the center of the action, at least it was close to it. Southern Westchester County and NYC offered plenty to do, and as I progressed into my late teens and early twenties, I made sure to take full advantage of some of what was available.
To kick this post off, I’d like you to watch a portion of the following video. Though it was recorded in the late 1980s, it captures the energy of our area during the early to mid-90s as well. The video features Broadway Bill Lee, a former NYC DJ. While he’s moved around over the years, in the late 80s and early 90s, he worked as a jock at the high-power radio station Hot 97. By the late 90s, he had moved to WKTU, a direct competitor. Both stations had their highs and lows, but when I was around 20 years old, these two were the undisputed kings of dance radio. The New York City market was unmatched, attracting talent that no other city could compete with, and Bill was a dream DJ – one that any station would have fought to secure.
As a side note, I left southern New York in 1996, so I have no idea what occurred with the music scene after that. From what I gather, it first began to slightly fizzle and then, somehow, went straight downhill. I like to think my absence played some small role in that decline.
When I used to listen to Hot 97 on summer’s simmering Fridays, usually in the middle of July, I imagined people leaving their jobs in those towering skyscrapers and spilling onto the sidewalks, thinking about what they’d do that night and into the weekend. Electricity was certainly in the air. I remember back when I was a lifeguard at a fitness club, I had a few friends who were members. One in particular would sit in the hot tub near the pool and tell me about the apartment he was renting on West 3rd Street in Greenwich Village. He’d regularly invite me down to hang out. “All of us’ll just be sitting on the roof with some beers, looking out over the city. It’s like nothing else. You gotta see the view!” I’m not sure why I hesitated to visit him, but I’m certain I’d still be telling stories about it today if I had.
Taxis would rush by, basketballs would thump on asphalt courts, and music was everywhere. Whether it was Z100, Hot 97, WPLJ, or WKTU, Friday nights meant the entire tri-state area was in the mood to unwind. And during the summer of 1996, unwind I certainly did. That summer is one I’ll remember forever.
I used to talk to a lot of people while sitting in that lifeguard chair. We’d make plans to go out for the night or just hang out. Members and employees alike would stop by to relax and share their problems. I often confess that the job at the fitness club helped me get through community college. I worked the 3-6 PM shift, and during that time, I would do my homework at the designated lifeguard table. There wasn’t much serious swimming going on, so I wasn’t responsible for too many people. Those slow hours allowed me to focus on something far more important; passing my classes and maybe, someday, transferring to a larger university.
During the 1990s in the New York City area, nightclubs were a very real thing. I know this because I visited some of them and listened as radio DJs advertised most of them every single weekend. Clubs advertised more than almost any other business: “Meet me at Hunka Bunka Ballroom in Sayreville!” I’ll never forget that one. “CBGB. The destination.” I’ll never forget that either. As I listened to the ads, I imagined countless people in the city walking the sidewalks in their best clothes, heading into and partying at each of these places. Being so young and seeing the world through wide eyes, the thought was invigorating.
As for the nightclubs themselves, think The Tunnel, Twilo, CBGB, The Sound Factory, Palladium, Limelight, Club Exit, and my favorite of all time, Webster Hall. More realistically, based in the suburbs, there were Polos in Brewster, Colors in Elmsford, Streets in New Rochelle, and The Ivy in Greenwich. I frequented Polos and Colors the most because I lived within a half hour of each. There was no driving into Manhattan or southern Connecticut and paying for parking, no long rides home at 3 AM, exhausted and disheveled. From those two locations, the ride home took mere minutes.
I must have visited Polos and Colors twenty-something times during the summer of 1996. I’m not entirely sure why I became so enthralled with both of them, but if I had to guess, it had something to do with my recent graduation from Westchester Community College and my impending move to Binghamton University. I felt alive. I remember telling my friend Rob, “Rob, I’m going to make it happen this summer. Every single thing I want to do, I’m going to do.” And, for the most part, I did. Mostly, I visited those two nightclubs with friends, though sometimes I went out alone when no one was available.
I remember one night at Colors in particular. I suppose I’d had a bit too much fun, because I woke up around 6 AM in my car, parked in the corner of the lot. Slowly, I drove home along Interstate 684, moving in the opposite direction of the morning rush, everyone else heading off to work while I made my quiet, solitary way back north.
Really, it wasn’t like I was ever alone in the venues. Over the weeks, I managed to make quite a few friends, so when I walked through the doors, I was greeted with big smiles and plenty of hugs. The music was fantastic, the drinks were great, and the people were even better. I truly felt as though I had found my scene.
As you can imagine, nightclubs were incredibly popular during those years, seemingly popping up everywhere. In Brewster alone, the Polos club I mentioned earlier went through numerous iterations: Fore n Aft, Polos, Miami Heat, Streets North, Polos again, and I think Streets North once more. Whatever the exact sequence, each time the nightclub reopened, people were waiting in long lines to get inside.
My memory is a bit fuzzy, but sometime during the summer of 1996, my friend Craig approached me with what he called the deal of a lifetime. Somehow, he had managed to get his hands on a ring, a flyer, a hat – something that would allow the two of us to experience Psychedelic Thursdays at Webster Hall for just a few dollars at the door. What a deal, I thought. I had no idea what Psychedelic Thursdays even was.
Now, after a quick search, I see that Craig had actually located a small pin – like a political pin you’d wear on a shirt. I have no idea where he got it, but apparently, it was enough for us to make the trek into Manhattan and visit the club. I’m forever grateful we did, because we ended up enjoying a unique slice of New York City history. As DJ Dina Regine once described it:
“Back in the 90s, I DJ-ed Psychedelic Thursdays in the Marlin Room at Webster Hall for many years. Week after week, thousands of people came to dance away all their problems of the world, and have a fantastic time. The room would get so hot and steamy, my vinyl would actually sweat to the point of getting warped! Hard to put into words the vibe we experienced every week, you just had to be there. Magical.”
It truly was magical. Craig and I went all out that first Thursday night and returned several more times over the summer. From what I recall, Webster Hall had four bars and multiple dance floors. The place was packed, just as DJ Dina described, with people dancing their problems away. While I joined the throng, I couldn’t help but reflect on how lucky I was to be in a famous nightclub, in one of the greatest cities in the world, having the time of my life. Not many people can say that.
By the way, if you’re curious about what Webster Hall looks and feels like inside, I recommend checking out this video. It was filmed in 2016, but it gives a surprisingly accurate sense of the experience during my time there. Such debauchery!
My plan for this post was to highlight just how much fun the 90s nightclub scene was across the New York City area; the energy, the people, the music. I wanted to celebrate the many venues and then point out how Webster Hall managed to stand the test of time, the last one seemingly left alive. As I read more about Webster Hall now, though, I discovered it was sold in 2017 to an event group, and the original dance nights came to an end. It seems the silent nightclub killer has finally claimed the last man standing. What a shame. That said, the sale was meant to renovate the venue, and the new owners allegedly reopened in 2019, with some version of dance nights returning. I’ll need to do a bit more research to see exactly how the scene has changed.
Through the years, the spirit of every nightclub I’ve mentioned has slowly evaporated into the abyss. Polos mysteriously caught fire and burned down, The Ivy transformed into a liquor store or something similar, Streets seems to have vanished without a trace, Colors was demolished to make way for a grocery store, and the rest, both in the city and Westchester, succumbed to rising rents and exorbitant property taxes. I personally believe dance music fell by the wayside, replaced by bar music and other, let’s say, less inspiring genres. Think Hootie & the Blowfish and Dave Matthews, along with, yes… flannel. The late 90s ushered in a new style of clothing right along with that new style of music, neither particularly conducive to people congregating to get drunk and dance like freaks.
Of course, I’ll admit I didn’t stick around southern New York after 1996, so I can’t be certain of exactly what occurred. But from what I gather, the embarrassing music I just mentioned largely replaced the freestyle and house tracks we used to blast. The early 90s were prime for artists who seemed far too sensitive to be on the radio, yet somehow made it there anyway. By the way, Laura still teases me relentlessly for my affection for this sound, but hey, it’s part of who I was, and it’s still fun to think about… and even listen to from time to time.
As I mentioned, I moved to upstate New York in late 1996. The area had no concept of nightclubs, much less freestyle music. By mid-1998, I relocated to Atlanta, Georgia, which was arguably worse. If you weren’t content standing in bars watching college football, you were out of luck. For a guy like me, just starting to find his groove and wishing he could attend Baruch College in NYC, life was increasingly disappointing.
It wasn’t until August 1998, when I began a long-distance relationship with Laura, that music and nightlife faded from my mind. My focus shifted to graduate school and figuring out how we’d manage living together – a story for another time. For now, I just want you to remember that there was a period when dance music and “going out” ruled supreme. It was a massive part of many of our lives and something those who were involved will cherish forever. Some people I know haven’t quite moved past it. They still imagine themselves as DJs, still imagine the swagger they once had. But the reality is that the entire scene eventually dried up. It ended. It fizzled and vanished. And as much as younger generations might insist it’s returning, or that it never really left, it’s dead. Much like trying to convince my parents’ generation that disco is still alive. It isn’t, and sadly, it’s never coming back.
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