Annals of Tourism Research, Vol. 38, No. 4, pp.

1435–1453, 2011
0160-7383/$ - see front matter Ó 2011 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.
Printed in Great Britain
www.elsevier.com/locate/atoures
doi:10.1016/j.annals.2011.03.013

CLUB CULTURE, NEOTRIBALISM

AND RITUALISED BEHAVIOUR
Christina Goulding
Coventry University, United Kingdom
Avi Shankar
Bath University, United Kingdom

Abstract: Since its birth on the Spanish island of Ibiza in the early 80s club culture has
evolved from a countercultural hedonistic experience (rave) to a global, commodified sector
of the tourism and leisure industries. Through a longitudinal, qualitative study of behavior at
one of the major UK clubs we examine the nature of clubbing and propose the concept of
ritual as an explanatory framework for understanding this neo-tribal co-created experience.
Drawing on a cross disciplinary literature on ritual theory we suggest that clubbing has a quasi
spiritual element to it based on the components of; mythology, formulism, sacredness, com-
munitas and transformation. Further applications to the tourism experience are suggested.
Keywords: clubbing, rave, neo-tribalism, co-production, ritual, grounded theory. Ó 2011 Elsevier
Ltd. All rights reserved.

INTRODUCTION
Clubbing is one of the most significant cultural phenomena of the
last thirty years (Hudson, 2000; Reynolds, 1998; Thornton, 1995). Club-
bing, as a form of pleasure based tourism (Currie, 1997) emerged in
the mid 80s amidst the hedonistic indulgences that attracted thou-
sands of young people from across Europe to the Spanish island of Ibi-
za. The island, with its relaxed attitudes to drugs and the new musical
and dance phenomenon known as the ‘Balearic’ sound, became a mag-
net for those in search of pleasure (Collin, 1997; Garrett, 1998). In the
UK and Germany, innovative DJs and entrepreneurs imported the
music and the dance drug ecstasy and rave culture was born (Hudson,
2000). Raves became synonymous with illicit, unregulated spontaneous
outdoor field parties and as their popularity grew so did their notori-
ety. In the UK raves were eventually banned in 1994 and clubbing in
regulated, semi-permanent or permanent venues, emerged as the

Christina Goulding is Professor of Marketing at Coventry University. Her research focuses

largely on cultural and sub-cultural consumption, the ‘dark’ tourism experience, non
conformist consumption and the development of qualitative research methodologies
(Address: Department of Marketing and Advertising, Coventry University, Priory Street,
Coventry CV1 5FD, United Kingdom. Email <Christina.goulding@coventry.ac.uk>). Avi
Shankar is Senior Lecturer in Marketing at Bath University. His research lies in the areas of
identity linked experiences, music and non conformist consumption.

1435
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primary vehicle for this ecstatic leisure experience (Goulding, Shankar,

Elliott, & Canniford, 2009). At its height, the combined attendance at
raves/clubs reached 50 million in the UK (more than sporting events,
visits to the cinema and all live entertainment put together) and the
clubbing market generated approximately $2.7billion worldwide (Hud-
son, 2000; Thornton, 1995).
Since its birth clubbing has evolved, both globally and domestically,
and is now a staple of the tourism and leisure industries (Stellers,
1998). Clubbing is marketed as part of the touristic/leisure experience
with hotspots around the world from Rimini to Cancun, Sydney and
Faliraki to coastal Mozambique; all favoured destinations for those in
search of the extended clubbing experience (Hudson, 2000). Market
positioning is also in evidence with resorts such as Ayia Napa and Fali-
raki branding and repositioning themselves as clubbing destinations
with a focus on a particular type of club music, UK Garage. In contrast
Ibiza, Goa, Koh Samui and Koh Phangan appeal to the trance or ‘Full
Moon’ dance party markets (Gibson & Connell, 2003; Knox, 2009).
Clubbing can be considered ‘pleasure’ tourism (Currie, 1997;
Wickens, 2002), or as part of an extended ‘deviant’ tourist experience
(Bellis, Hale, Bennett, Chaudry, & Kilfoyle, 2000). Clubbing, by its nat-
ure is also about the senses; it is about a particular type of communal
musical leisure experience that emphasises beat over lyric and body
over mind. It is an intensely biosocial phenomenon, wherever it is
experienced (Goulding et al., 2009). Clubbing also represents a re-
search context in which to redress the imbalance in tourism studies
of the dominance of the gaze at the expense of the physical and the
sensorial (Franklin & Crang, 2001).
In this paper we develop the concept of ritual as an explanatory
framework for understanding the clubbing experience. Clubbing,
whether experienced abroad as part of a vacation, or at home as part
of a weekend break, is predicated on ritual, ceremony, play and cul-
tural aesthetics (Graburn, 1989) and is characterised, with other tourist
experiences, by a number key factors. First, clubbing involves the indi-
vidual or group leaving behind the normal rules of everyday society.
Second, this is for a limited duration, at some point the individual must
return to normality and re-engage with societal norms. Third, the expe-
rience may involve a sudden and unique set of social relations that can
include role reversal, the mixing of classes and the instant formation of
friendships, even if they are transitory. Fourth, the experience may of-
ten be one of intensity involving pleasure or sensuousness (Burns,
1999).
In this sense clubbing may also be conceptualised as a tribal, or more
specifically neo-tribal (Maffesoli, 1996). This is predicated on a num-
ber of factors. First, neo-tribes are multiple and rarely dominate indi-
vidual’s lives. Rather they represent temporary escape from the
pressures and stresses of the everyday working week (Goulding, Shan-
kar, & Elliott, 2002). Moreover membership of one neo-tribe does not
exclude membership from other tribes or communities. On the con-
trary, neo-tribal theory stresses the occurrence of flows between differ-
ent identities under different circumstances (Bennett, 1999).
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Second, neo-tribes are playful. Tied to multiplicity of membership

neo-tribal membership is often devoid of long term moral responsibil-
ity (Muniz & O’Guinn, 2001; Muniz & Schau, 2005). Instead, value is
placed on the possibility to invigorate passion and generate social links
through deconstructing and reassembling marketplace resources
(Cova, Kozinets, & Shankar, 2007).
Third, neo-tribes are transient. Connected to multiple identity and
play, neo-tribes emerge and disappear as combinations of people
and resources alter. This generates unpredictable and emergent expe-
riences that may be critical and liberatory at one moment yet, at the
next moment, mean little beyond sensory intensity and pleasure. This
playful acceptance of rapidly changing and contradictory meanings
engenders a balance of power between consumers and producers that
oscillates between manipulation and emancipation (Cova & Pace,
2006; Shankar, Cherier, & Canniford, 2006).
Fourth, neo-tribes are entrepreneurial. Stemming from the possi-
bilities for play, and an empowered and emancipated attitude to
the market, are new paths for entrepreneurial ventures (Cova, Kozi-
nets, & Shankar, 2007). Rather than relying on ready-made consump-
tion resources, neo-tribes regularly produce or customize market
offerings (Kozinets, 2007). These practices of bricolage alter the
power balance between producers and consumers as neo-tribal mem-
bers take the lead in dictating procedures of co-production (Shankar
et al., 2006).
Fifth, members of a neo-tribe have to learn the rules of engagement.
They have to learn the codes and etiquette required to be a member of
a particular neo-tribe. This is often highly ritualised as individuals move
from being on the outside or fringes of the group to becoming a fully
fledged member of that neo-tribe (Maffesoli, 1996).
We suggest that neo-tribal experiences such as clubbing and the rit-
ualised processes involved may offer a useful framework for under-
standing a wide range of leisure and tourism behaviours. This is
based on the fact that it offers a two sided perspective of co-creation
(Vargo & Lusch, 2004) between producer and consumer which is grow-
ing in dominance in the services literature. We suggest this has partic-
ular relevance to the tourism and leisure industries which are
archetypal sites of experiential consumption. Clubbing, the case we dis-
cuss throughout, is a prime example of co-creation given the ability of
clubbing entrepreneurs to constantly reinvent the experience – from
illegal raves to an accepted major part of the leisure industry. This is
largely down to the fact that these clubbing entrepreneurs are predom-
inantly members of the neo-tribe themselves. They know the rituals
and codes and many have been on the scene since the early days.
In this paper we draw upon an in-depth grounded theory study of
clubbers to one of the UK’s ‘super-clubs’ that attracts participants from
all over the country and beyond. We develop a holistic framework of
ritual to emphasise process and the co-created experience. In doing
so, we acknowledge the various influences on the experience including
the psychological, the social and the sensorial, embodied nature of
clubbing.
1438 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453

STUDY METHODS
The aim of the research was to develop a framework for understand-
ing the meanings and experiences of participants of clubbing. As such
we did not start with the concept of ritual, rather this was the product
of an inductive and iterative process of data collection, interpretation
and concept generation. In other words, theory was data driven. Our
methodology was based on a Glaserian approach to grounded theory
(Glaser, 1978, 1992), which emphasises emergence over a more formu-
laic prescriptive approach (Strauss & Corbin, 1990). Given the nature
of the research, we felt that the starting point was the dance club itself.
One of the research team had a long standing contact who had been
involved in early rave parties held in warehouses, on barges and even-
tually in temporary night clubs. Today, he is the organiser and pro-
moter of one of the UKs major ‘super-clubs’ as well as having
‘branded’ franchised club premises in Ibiza and Cyprus. We explained
the nature of our research and enlisted his help in terms of under-
standing the club scene and introducing us to contacts who became
integral to our data collection. The research team were allowed unlim-
ited access to the club at the weekend. To begin with we familiarized
ourselves with the people, the environment, the music, the nature of
the dancing, symbols, and social interactions. To a degree it involved
a process of acculturation in order to gain insights from which to pro-
gress the research.
The data were collected via two main methods: observation of behav-
iour during the course of a clubbing evening and in-depth interviews
with clubbers away from the club. This allowed us to gain insights into
behaviour happening ‘in the moment’ through observations and also
to collect data through participant introspection ‘reflecting on the mo-
ment’ through personal narratives about the experience.

Observation of Behaviour
Data collection took the form of non-intrusive observation. This was
based on the rationale that sometimes actions speak louder than
words. Observational methods refer to data gathering techniques that
focus on experience by providing real world impressions in authentic
surroundings (Grove & Fiske, 1992). The hallmark of observation is
its unobtrusive nature thereby minimising any interference in the
behaviour of those observed, neither manipulating them nor stimulat-
ing them (Adler & Adler, 1994). Observation of behaviour also locates
the researcher within the context under investigation which may lead
to revelatory incidents or ‘highly charged encounters suffused with
meaning. Because the researcher directly experiences these incidents,
the significance of the phenomenon is more fully appreciated (Belk,
Wallendorf, & Sherry, 1989).
Visits to the club were made over a three month period to begin
with. Observational data were collected manually through the use of
memos (Glaser & Strauss, 1967) that recorded behaviour throughout
 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453 1439

the course of the evening. Field notes were also taken on the behavior
of the clubbers queuing outside of the club, the clothes people wore,
the process of entering the club, reactions to the music and in partic-
ular the DJs, the nature of dancing, the social versus the individual
experience, and the ‘chill out’ and leaving process. These memos
proved to be a valuable source of data particularly when reflecting
on the experience and the emergent explanatory concepts.

Interviewing
Observations are a way of constructing meaning and attributing
sense to interactions and actions but as human beings we do not, or
cannot internalise the whole range of activities occurring in the social
world around us (Adler & Adler, 1994; Grove & Fiske, 1992). This selec-
tivity has filtered through as a criticism of observations as a stand-alone
method and in particular the lack of informant quotes to support find-
ings. To address this shortcoming, after we had developed a sense of
the club context and the behaviours of clubbers, we embarked on
the second stage of data collection, in-depth interviews.
Our time spent in the field and the support of the promoters gave us
access to a wide range of the club’s participants. Initially we were intro-
duced to ten regular clubbers who in turn introduced us to friends who
also frequented a range of dance clubs and were regulars on the scene.
In keeping with the principles of grounded theory we employed a pro-
cess of theoretical sampling (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). This required
starting with those most likely to offer insights derived from the lived
experience itself. This was enabled by using the club context to recruit
participants via the organiser in the early stage. However, as our under-
standing developed and initial insights refined, we expanded our sam-
ple until we reached saturation, a requirement of grounded theory. By
the end of this stage, we had completed thirty-four interviews with
informants ranging in age from twenty to forty, from a diverse array
of socio-economic backgrounds that were representative of the club’s
clientele. Interviews were conducted away from the club and lasted be-
tween forty to sixty minutes and were tape-recorded. Informants were
asked to ‘tell their story’, to describe their lives in the week and to talk
through the nature of their experiences at dance clubs. All were en-
sured complete confidentiality and were encouraged to discuss any-
thing, including drug-taking behaviour that impacted on their
experience, without fear of prejudice. In addition, informants were
also requested to privately reflect on their experience and construct
a story based on introspective analysis. A total of twelve were returned
via email.

Interpretation
As interview data were collected each one was simultaneously tran-
scribed and analysed using the constant comparison method (Glaser,
1440 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453

1978; Glaser & Strauss, 1967). This is to say that each interview was ana-
lysed as soon as the data were gathered rather than waiting until an
appropriate sample was collected before commencing analysis. To be-
gin with we adopted a line by line analysis in order to identify the full
range of possible codes. This stage of open coding was followed until a
recurring pattern was noted across data sets. Open coding does little
more than describe what is in the data; it is theory free until a sequence
or theme is identified. Once themes were noted open coding was for-
saken for more focused axial coding that facilitated the clustering of
codes based on their explanatory relationship to each other. These
were then labelled to generate concepts. These concepts were initially
grouped into descriptive categories and were only deemed saturated
when no new information emerged from the informant’s stories. They
were then re-evaluated for their interrelationships and, through a ser-
ies of analytical steps, were gradually subsumed into a higher order cat-
egory that suggested an emergent theory. An important part of the
grounded theory process is to lift the interpretation from the descrip-
tive level to the more abstract level of conceptualisation and theoretical
explanation. At this stage concepts derived from the data were inte-
grated with extant literature in order to theoretically sensitise the find-
ings (Glaser & Strauss, 1967) and show fit with other work in the field.
Moreover, in order to check the accuracy of our interpretation and to
ensure it made sense in terms of the actual lived experience of the
clubbers themselves, we emailed our draft analysis to a number of
our participants and asked for feedback regarding fidelity to their
experience. This served as a form of ‘member checking’ (Glaser &
Strauss, 1967) and reduced any chance of bias.
In this case our constant reflection on the data and the search for
patterns and meaning directed us to the literature on ritual. It is impor-
tant to note that our interpretation was driven by the data rather than
theory being imposed upon the data. This does raise an important
question regarding how the conceptual explanation is presented.
One belief is that because data drives theory it should be written as
it happens. However, in reality, the iterative process of data collection
and analysis makes this difficult to present in a manner that can be eas-
ily followed by the reader (Goulding, 2009). As a result of these difficul-
ties in presenting grounded theory findings as they emerge, the
following analysis represents the final theoretical interpretation, which
is the product of the iterative process of data and theoretical integra-
tion (Suddeby, 2006). We begin by looking at the various theories of
ritual before presenting our analysis of clubbing as ritualised
behaviour.

Rituals and Behavior

Historically rituals were used in tribal religious ceremonies such as
weaving of spells, invocations and magic cures. These rites were per-
formed by druids, shamans, healers and seers and were thought to
form a barrier against evil influences, providing protection for persons,
 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453 1441

animals and things (Freshwater & Biley, 1998). However, the study of
ritual is no longer confined to the worlds of theology or anthropology,
rather it can also be used as a basis for understanding many contempo-
rary social phenomenon (Stanfield & Kleine, 1990), including tourism
activities and particularly those experiences which have at their core
the element of escape or fantasy (Rook, 1984). Nevertheless, whilst
there are many studies that incorporate a ritualistic element, scholars
of ritual recognize that there is no single definition of the concept –
indeed the nature of rituals is so diverse that this would not be possible,
or even desirable (Rook, 1985).
Essentially, rituals may take many forms, but they are usually formal,
significant, symbolically intended and complex actions (Gellner,
1999). Intrinsically they are sets of actions that are recognized as set
apart from mundane activities. Nonetheless, despite the lack of an ac-
cepted all embracing definition, it is necessary to distinguish between
the different types of ritual. For example, there are everyday social
interaction rituals, enacted in greetings, expressions and non verbal
communication (Goffman, 1959); second there are ‘performance’ or
‘dramaturgical’ rituals (Handleman, 1997; Turner, 1974), such as
those associated with religious ceremonies or carnival; and third, rites
of passage rituals that accompany life changing events, embroidered in
the fabric of birth, coming of age, marriage, and death (Van Gennep,
1960). In his critique of the key anthropological work on ritual and
tourism MacCannell (1992, p. 261) argues that ritual is more than ac-
tion and it is more than symbolism:
Ritual can overlay all social behaviour, potentially providing a basis for
common regard and common action even on the empty meeting
grounds of the post-touristic community. . .
We situate our study within an eclectic interdisciplinary framework
that draws on the literature on ritual to develop an understanding of
the clubbing phenomenon. We propose that ritual in this context is
made up of a number of components that include the concepts of;
mythology; formulism; sacredness; communitas, and transformation.

LEARNING TO BE ‘NEO-TRIBAL’ THROUGH RITUAL: A FRAME-

WORK OF ANALYSIS
Mythology
One of the key aspects of contemporary clubbing is that it has a his-
tory that extends to the early days of rave and the illicit field and ware-
house parties that caused controversy and ultimately legal action
banning them in the 80s. An understanding of its roots and the link
between the early pioneers is often part of the attraction and sets the
scene for subsequent expectations and experiences. Clubbing is
grounded in myth and mystery. This stems from the formative years
of rave where secrecy was paramount and communication strictly ach-
romatic in order to avoid detection. Stories of the ‘birth’ of clubbing
survive into the present, either remembered personally or vicariously
1442 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453

recounted in narrative and music. There is also a nostalgic sentiment

for the original scene, which had its emphasis on the happy vibe and
underground illegal venues, as noted in the words of Andrew:
I’ve been on the club scene now for quite a few years. I started
going before it became widespread and legitimate. My first experi-
ences were the early field parties. This was back in the late 80s. I
was about twenty at the time and living in London. I was a student
and some of the people I knew suggested that I come along with
them to a venue. They had ‘gotten the word’ that there was a big
event being organised somewhere in Kent, so I went and that was
the start of it. I’d heard about the scene but this was something else.
There were literally thousands of people, thousands of cars heading
in one direction to this point in the middle of nowhere. However it
was dynamic. The conditions were terrible, no toilets or anything,
well apart from a few very smelly portaloos, but that didn’t matter,
the sound, the stage, the music, the lighting, the vibe, it was totally
electric. To me it was like some sort of awakening and after that I
was hooked. I couldn’t wait until the next one, but I had to, there
was no way of finding out. It was all underground. Someone would
receive a flyer and pass the word on. It might not seem very sophis-
ticated as a way of communicating to the hordes, but it was effective.
It was usually last minute because as you can imagine the police
hated it. But this was also a big part of the attraction, the anticipa-
tion, the being read to go at the last minute, the mystery and the
feeling that you shared a secret with a group of like-minded
individuals.
In his narrative, Andrew reflects on his early awakening, the secret
communication, the anti-hero versus the establishment, the illicit
and the sense of bonded community. These features of the early rave
parties have since entered the realm of clubbing mythology. Myths
have their place in many forms of interaction rituals, providing a sense
of history, context and continuity. They can also become the encoded
embodiment of values, enacted in chants, sacred meals, or dancing
(Strathern & Stewart, 1998). Inherently, myths incorporate a sense of
mystery that helps to sustain their existence. Myths socialize partici-
pants and instruct recent converts into the norms and practices of
the ritual (Belk et al., 1989). Mythology also plays a central role in
many rituals by focusing attention on stories or mythical figures. Ritual
experts or teachers socialize members into the ritualistic practices and
extraneous language that encode the group’s direction as a ritual pas-
sage (Strathern & Stewart, 1998).

Formulism
In the following extracts Sharon discusses her socialisation in terms
of her initiation and transformation from ‘e (ecstasy) virgin’ (the drug
most commonly associated with clubbing) and the ceremonial perfor-
mance that accompanied the rite; the placing of the tab on the tongue,
the regular sips of water, and the passing on of these rites to be enacted
with new initiates:
 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453 1443

Sharon: I’ve been going to clubs for years and it was the group who
first introduced me to drugs, well ecstasy anyway. We were planning
to go to a venue. I was an ‘e’ virgin. I remember it as part of a ritual.
Mark sat me down. He was so excited, as I was. He gave me the tab on
my tongue and then we sat around waiting for it to take effect. It was a
thing you did, you never took your first ‘e’ on your own, just in case.
Some people get pains in their kidneys, and you need someone to rub
your back, make you sip water, don’t go completely mad and dehy-
drate. I’ve done the same with others since.
For many, the initiation leads to a process of conversion and commit-
ment (Belk et al., 1989) and the compulsive nature of such rituals may
lie in the fact that they involve excitement, anticipation, careful plan-
ning and preparation. This requires leaving the ‘everyday’ behind, a
period of physical and psychological re-adjustment, congregation and
transformation. Sharon goes on to offer an insight into the nature of
the preparation ritual that follows the procedures for psychological
readjustment and participation:
I usually start planning a big night about two weeks in advance, you
know if I’m going somewhere like the [a club venue]. We get the tick-
ets and then we’ll book a bus because there’s usually about twelve or
thirteen of us. The [club venue] opens about 9.30pm and closes
about 2.00am. So we’ll meet at someone’s house and get ready, this
usual takes a couple of hours, we try on that many clothes and mess
with our hair before we get it right. Then we’ll get the bus to the club,
queue up, there’s always a big queue, but you stand around chatting
and laughing and it’s part of the anticipation. When we go in we’ll
usually stop and have a quick drink in the bar on the ground floor,
just to have a chat. Then we’ll go upstairs and because there are no
seats we’ll stand around for a little while, but by then we’ve all taken
a pill and the warm up DJ is on, so you start getting into it, start danc-
ing, and before you know it everyone is like it, the floor is absolutely
heaving, the place is full and you’re jumping around for about 3–4
hours, you don’t talk, but you don’t need to, every one’s on the same
level, all dancing and enjoying what’s going on in their head.
Taken at face value, the club experience may appear to be a drug
fuelled, hedonistic, orgy of sensuous indulgence as described by Wic-
kens (2002) in his analysis of ‘raver types’ abroad. Nevertheless, it
would appear that on the domestic scene there are implicit codes of
etiquette and social norms of behaviour that most participants adhere
to. Drugs are often viewed as ‘recreational’ and for the weekend. Fur-
thermore there is a degree of rationalization and normalization to
their consumption:
Peter: Drugs are a dance thing. You wouldn’t take ‘e’ on your own at
home. But in the club they definitely make it happen because dance
music itself, if you’re not on ‘e’ can be pretty repetitive and to be hon-
est it could drive you nuts after a while. I couldn’t just sit and listen to
it straight (not on drugs), you have to be on a club high because it’s a
beat to dance to, you need energy and a certain state of mind.
Despite this easy, unquestioning acceptance of drug taking, clubbing
has its own socially constructed, implicit behavior regulators whereby
1444 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453

certain actions are frowned upon. For example, while many clubbers
do admit to drinking alcohol, they describe their intake as moderate.
Drunken behavior is associated with aggression and consequently goes
against the ethos of community, the happy vibe and the effect of the
‘love drugs’:
Jackie: Clubs wouldn’t exist in the way they do if everyone just drank
alcohol; it just wouldn’t happen. You wouldn’t get the friendly vibe,
everyone getting on with everyone else. I’ve noticed that on drink
people tend to get angry, aggressive. If they’re not, then they’re sit-
ting or lying in a corner. . . I would say that for club culture to exist
you need drugs, not drink.
Durkheim’s (1912/2001) work on ritual structures has had a pro-
found influence on the study of ritual, particularly where the key task
is to identify the components of a given ritual. Viewed from a solidaris-
tic perspective rituals emphasize co-operation and integration of ac-
tions. They have their structures and procedures that begin with
initiation, anticipation and preparation (Handleman, 1997). These ac-
tions may be formal, significant, and/or symbolic (Rook, 1984; Turner,
1974). However, they rely on individuals being educated or socialized
into the scene and are directly linked to the actual experience; how
the music is used, the nature of dance, social interaction, and mental
states, which in the case of clubbing often verges on the sacred.

Sacredness
As with many rituals, clubbing has a pseudo religious aspect to it.
‘God is a DJ’, ‘worship the weekend, ‘the second coming’ and ‘the
clubbers bible’ are all common terms in the clubbing vernacular. Ven-
ues borrow heavily from religious terminology. For example, popular
clubs include ‘The Ministry of Sound’, ‘The Mission’, ‘The Sanctuary’,
and ‘The Church’. With clubbing there is an emphasis on the sacrali-
sation of time or ‘living for the weekend’ – a sense of separation and
clear distinction between the working week and the clubbing weekend
that offers a sense of release and an alternative way of being (Goulding
et al., 2002). This separation can be noted in Jonathan’s description of
his two ‘selves’:
At the moment there’s a lot going on that I want to forget about. . .at
work they’re talking about redundancies, so there’s that hassle. . .of
course you’ve got to think about the mortgage and the bills, but
you need to get away from all that stuff, forget it for a while and switch
off. Clubbing is one way of doing that. You can be a different person
for a while. . .you can get on a real high; feel really loved up.
For Jonathan ‘week time’ is time allocated for work and the general
worries associated with the normal world, while the weekend is devoted
to becoming a different person and entering a different state of being.
In this sense, the profane refers to that which is ordinary and part of
everyday life, while the sacred is completely removed from the profane
or the ordinary (Belk et al., 1989). Freshwater and Biley (1998) pro-
 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453 1445

posed that many religious rituals mirror the suspended order in the
sacred realm and help to establish a link between the human and
the divine worlds (Csordas, 1994). As Rook (1984, p. 281) observes,
‘‘it is possible to view aesthetic rituals as a form of secular displacement
of religious impulses.’’ However, this does not happen in a vacuum,
but is usually the result of clever and careful orchestration by alterna-
tive high priests.

The New Shamans. In the context of clubbing, the DJs are the ‘post-
modern’ shamans or pseudo spiritual leaders, ‘‘. . .they are ‘the Prince
Charmings who reawaken frozen time, bringing it back to life with the
kiss of their creativity’’ (Jowers, 1999, p. 394). The DJ’s role is to whip
up the crowd, heal their anxieties, and exorcise their demons, and as
such, attract near cult like following, as Jackie confirms:
I’ll go all over the place if there’s something worth travelling for.
[club name] in London is still okay, although [club name] at the
[venue name] in Birmingham hasn’t got quite the same atmosphere.
I’ve done all the major clubs in Ibiza. It all really depends on what
mood I’m in. It also depends on the DJ. They make all the difference.
A really good DJ can send the crowd into a frenzy, work you up and
then bring you down again gently, they are in control, they’re the
ones with the power and they know it.
Eliade (1964) defined shamanism as an ancient technique of ecstasy,
built on a form of mysticism or magic. Moreover, the divination of the
shaman tends to be located in trance like states. These trance-like states
are a form of autonomous imagination arising out of shamanistic or
meditative states. Autonomous imagination is a continuous stream of
imagery taking place in the mind, although mostly outside of conscious
awareness. It is part of the normal information processing procedures
of the mind, dealing with inner stimuli (Stephen & Suryani, 2000).
This analogy between Shaman and DJ may be more than simply meta-
phorical. The DJ is acutely aware that he/she can lose the crowd or
make the crowd ‘lose it’. The DJ is most in control when using music
with repetitive beats to create a feeling of total loss and then using
an anthem of ‘love and togetherness’ to facilitate a return of self
(Jowers, 1999; Rietveldt, 1998). Consequently, it is possible to draw
parallels with the functions performed by a shaman: a healing func-
tion; the shaman as one man/woman theatre; the shaman as poet
and minstrel; and the shaman as leader (Hoppal, 2001, p. 6):
Personal impressions of the Shamans taking part in ritual roles tell us
that, as the individuals responsible for organizing ceremonies, they
provide a kind of therapeutic atmosphere for those taking part. . .clo-
sely linked to this social role is the fact that they must recite long texts,
sing them, recite them, and in many cases improvise them on the
spot. . .
Indeed in dance clubs, the DJs are responsible for creating the atmo-
sphere, setting the mood, and dictating the tone of the night. They are
required to mix and improvise, to take the audience out of themselves,
to elevate them to another plane, all through the power of their music
1446 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453

which is used to hypnotic effect, aided by the fact that the music is
based on beats per minute and not the voice. This adds to the
trance-like effect: ‘The further dance tracks are removed from the
voice, the more likely it is that ‘trance like’ bliss can be achieved’ (Jow-
ers, 1999, p. 387).

Communitas
One major aspect of the clubbing neo-tribal experience is the notion
of communitas. Most participants described a feeling of togetherness
and equality; a stripping of the everyday constraints and a levelling pro-
cess. For example, Susan discusses the almost telepathic bond that ex-
ists between clubbers which is felt and shared without the need to
verbalize the feeling:
Susan: Going to a club is like going to a massive party where everyone
is on the same wavelength. Dancing kind of draws people together,
not in any kind of sexual way, it’s just like you’re all sharing the same
kind of feelings, you’ve got this one thing in common.
Jason goes on to talk about the levelling process, common at club
venues where class and status disintegrate in favour of the common
experience.
Jason: When you go to these places you tend to meet people from all
walks of life; they all do different things. I don’t think there is a set
type of person that goes clubbing, or takes drugs. You’d be surprised
at the different kind of people who actually do. I know I’ve been sur-
prised a few times, I mean I have actually met policemen when at a
club, not very often mind you, but they do exist, and they have the
same view as us.
Students of ritual and kinship are concerned with the analysis of cer-
emonial events in terms of the social relations in which they are embed-
ded (Cappelletto, 1998). ‘‘Rituals practice both the fragmentation and
reconstruction of holism. Thus the internal processes of rituals often
move from conditions of holism – of self, community, health, the hu-
man and the transcendent – to their shattering, in order to regenerate
a healed self, a new social order or a rejuvenated community’’
(Handleman, 1997, p. 387). Furthermore, communal rituals are said
to express existing inner tensions and anxieties, which are resolved
through a constrained physical manifestation (Csordas, 1994; Freshwa-
ter & Biley, 1998).
Essentially rituals provide a major mechanism for the recreation of
society(ies), in which the members worship shared objects and share
experiences (Etzioni, 2000). From a psychological perspective the
study of ritual has tended to emphasize ritual’s dual role in regulating
an individual’s impulse life (their defence mechanism against impul-
siveness) and in mediating social relationships (Rook, 1984). Jowers
(1999) argues that music facilitates new identities through the experi-
ence it offers the body, time and sociability. This enables us to place
ourselves within wider imaginative cultural narratives. With clubbing,
 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453 1447

individuals engage collectively and simultaneously in response to the

mood and tempo of the music.
Clubbing, from its inception has evolved around the notion of spon-
taneous communitas and a code of equality, all be it temporally con-
strained. Belk et al. (1989, p. 7) define communitas as ‘‘a social anti-
structure that frees participants from their normal social roles and sta-
tus and instead engages them in a transcending camaraderie of status
of equality’’. Maffesoli (1996, p. 96) uses the metaphor of the ‘neo-
tribe’ to describe ‘‘an act of pure creation’’ which he sees as the found-
ing moment of new community forms, a ‘‘cultural moment in opposi-
tion to the civilizing moment which follows’’ (p. 74). We would suggest
that the dance club is an archetypal site for the shared sentiments and
experiences of neo-tribalism.
This experience of neo-tribalism may lead to new ways of living to-
gether which reject individualism and is driven by a collective uncon-
scious which acts as a matrix for varied group experiences, situations
and actions (Maffesoli, 1996). Based on anthropological fieldwork
and ritual processes, identified the emergence, through the collective
experience of liminal states, of spontaneous ‘‘communitas’’, an intense
community spirit, a feeling of togetherness, and solidarity. This tempo-
rary destruction of existing social structure, may also be marked by
reversals of ordinary behavior, and the identity of the members of a
liminoid group is expected to transcend individuality.
Maffesoli (1996) describes the rise in the transitory group that is nei-
ther fixed nor permanent; rather involves a constant back and forth
movement between the tribe and the masses. Accordingly, these
‘neo-tribes’ may be ‘‘effervescent, ascetic, oriented toward the past or
the future; they have as their common characteristic on the one hand,
a breaking with the commonly held wisdom and, on the other, an
enhancing of the organic aspect of the social aggregation’’ (Maffesoli,
1996, p. 74). These groups are held together by a certain ambience and
a state of mind. Solidarity is expressed through lifestyles that favour
appearance and form, and no where is this more evident than in dance
club or venue which allows the individual to flout convention, play with
the rules and escape the quotidian through acts of transformation of
body and mind.

Transformation
With clubbing, transformations are most evident in terms of the
body, through dress and the physical exhilaration gained through
dancing; and the mind, through the music and the use of drugs. For
example Sash describes the experience:
If you go to a club you don’t go for the conversation, there’s not
much chance of that anyway. You get into the music and although
you’re with other people, dancing can also be very personal. It’s about
what’s in your own head. You forget about your worries. . . ‘E’ com-
bined with the music, the crowd and the raw energy takes you onto
a different plane. You don’t feel drugged up just loved up. . . The
1448 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453

music is just a blend of rhythms, it’s all a variation on a theme but it’s
a major part of the experience. You don’t need to worry about too
many changes, or words, it just gets faster or slower.
During the ritual process the meanings ascribed to artefacts, ego
development and belief systems change. This often involves changes
in perception of the environment (social or natural) and of the self
(Stanfield & Kleine, 1990). Cheal (1988) discusses the nature of post-
modern rituals which are characterized by instability. Here the individ-
ual may engage in ritual practices in order to bring about
transformations in the meaning of objects, people or experiences.
The clubber separates from one mode of being and is transformed into
a different person, for a limited period of time (Van Gennep, 1960).
Handleman (1997) talks about temporary micro-worlds of ritual
where participants are re-embodied in all their senses, their bodies
becoming sites of transformation of being. Ultimately, the acts of ritual
form a body language producing a ritualized agent and the ritual body
is one that is socialized into ritual action through the realization of spa-
tial movements and oppositions (Bell, 1992). In essence ritual passage
is a process of symbolic action focused upon the body (Werber, 1989).
In the context of clubbing, repetitive dance music foregrounds the
body, inviting it to let itself go and dance, to yield entirely to the
rhythm until a flood of release is introduced (Jowers, 1999; Rietveldt,
1998). The experience of clubbing is also a denial of the Cartesian jux-
taposition of body and mind. Both fuse together in the rhythm and
noise of the music to stimulate an ecstatic state, as Jowers (1999, p.
385) notes:
The focus within electronic dance music has turned to rhythmic con-
tinuity, repetition and visceral bass frequencies, played at volumes
that bypass cognition and physically shake bodies. Such music com-
municates directly with the body . . . and lets its life and experiences
flow into an ecstasy of perception.
It is well established that clubbing and drugs are inextricably linked.
This is not to say that everyone who attends clubs takes drugs, indeed
there were a number of individuals who described ‘getting high’ on the
music and dancing alone. However, drug taking was predominant en-
ough to warrant a place in the clubbing ‘ritual’. The most common
intoxicants associated with clubbing include ecstasy, cocaine, which is
used as a ‘club upper’ (Boys, Marsden, & Griffiths, 1999) and a later
addition, ketamine, a hallucinogenic or psychedelic drug which is
mixed with ecstasy or cocaine to bring on a spiritual state (Jansen,
2000).
However, this ‘high’ must eventually come to an end as the process
of disengagement and reintegration back into normality begins. This
in itself is highly ritualized involving rites of separation which usually
commence during the chill out phase. It is also strongly drug related,
although psychedelic substances are replaced with relaxants, such as
marijuana that help the individual to ‘come down’ and slow down.
Andrew: Usually around 2.00am people will start to drift off to the
chill out room or maybe even home where they can smoke a little
 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453 1449

weed and come down gradually, listen to some easy sounds and get
the old heart beat back on an even keel.

CONCLUSION
In building on the literature on ritual and grounding our findings
in data, we have developed an integrated framework that allows us to
understand a contemporary cultural phenomenon – clubbing. We
suggest that the clubbing ritual is comprised of five main compo-
nents: mythology; formulism; sacredness; communitas; transforma-
tion. We argue that myth is a powerful presence in the case of
many neo-tribal experiences. According to Belk et al. (1989) myths
are the stories and legends that bind communities together and lie
at the heart of many social groupings. They are the ‘backbone’ of
the communal experience and provide narrative and a sense of con-
tinuity. They are also a means of socialising new participants into the
neo-tribe. The second component, ‘Formulism’, emphasises the plan-
ning, preparation and anticipation that supports the experience.
While the third component ‘Sacredness’ acts in opposition to the
everyday or profane.
According to Collins-Kreiner (2010) no place is intrinsically sacred.
All places are social constructions which may undergo a process of sac-
ralisation. Such orchestration it is part of the sequential process by
which tourist/leisure attractions are marked as meaningful, quasi reli-
gious shrines (Collins-Kreiner, 2010). The fourth component ‘Com-
munitas’ relieves individuals from the constraints of everyday societal
norms. Bennett (2004) discusses the Ibiza clubbing scene as a space
where the cultural practices of clubbers become the ‘normal’ accepted
practices of the group. However, clubbing usually occurs in a liminoid
‘play zone’ (Selanniemi, 2003) where the geographical location of the
pleasure periphery has only marginal importance. On the contrary,
with sensorial tourism, tourists travel to experience a different state
of being rather than to be in a different place.
This relates to the fifth component ‘Transformation’. With clubbing
there is a transformation of both mind and body; from the ordinary to
the non-ordinary whereby the senses are stimulated and become more
sensitive (Selanniemi, 2003). In essence the body becomes the locus of
the experience. As Falk (1994, pp. 58–59) observes when discussing the
liminality of rituals in popular secular festivals which become:
. . .the manifestation of human corporeality in which sensuality and
pleasure play a leading part. The articulation of corporeality is a
major part of the dual cultural dynamics in which the profane or
everyday order is momentarily laid aside and replaced by a sacred
or festival order.
In clubbing we observe a duality where bodies are transformed from
the everyday to the sensational through dress, dance and stimulants.
However, this transformation only lasts as long as the ritual process.
At its culmination participants return to the familiar realm of the
profane.
1450 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453

Implications
The concepts relating to ritual discussed in this paper have focused
on the consumer perspective and we suggest understanding the nature
of the actual experience is vital regardless of the tourism offering. How-
ever, we are also aware of the importance of the producer in the pro-
cess and advocate greater attention to the potential dynamic and
mutually beneficial interplay between producer and consumer. The
clubbing example used in this paper is one such case. Most successful
club promoters have evolved with the scene and have been part of the
culture, often from the early days. They understand the experience
from the inside and can read their market and react to change. They
are responsible for setting the scene, creating the environment, hiring
the DJ, dictating the lighting, queuing systems and even the appear-
ance of those employed on the front line. Essentially there is an impli-
cit tacit understanding of the changing needs and expectations that
come from being part of a community that allows the experience to
evolve and continue to appeal. But this approach is not, or need not
be confined to clubbing.
Neo-tribal communities offer tourism/leisure managers opportuni-
ties to assign their service as an integral aspect of the ‘learning’ to be
neo-tribal’ process. If the market does not provide these products
and services entrepreneurial tribal members will emerge to serve the
needs of the neo-tribe (Goulding & Saren, 2009). There is evidence
of this across a range of tourism/leisure experiences from the Whitby
Goth Festival held in the North East of England twice a year (Goulding
& Saren, 2007) to the surfing tribes of Western Australia. Much of the
success of clubbing is grounded in the belief that DJs and promoters
are part of the neo-tribe. The tribal platforms they co-create with their
fellow members can move from location to location, and even country
to country, enabling the tribe to be reconfigured almost anywhere.
Here the authenticity of the neo-tribal experience has been success-
fully leveraged by the entrepreneurial zeal of the club promoters and
DJs. Club brands like Pacha and Ministry of Sound have successfully
moved from their tribal enclaves and into the main-steam without suf-
fering accusations of selling out.
Perhaps the most obvious and practically implementable manner in
which this can be achieved is to focus on the provision of spaces and
sites where neo-tribes can perform their ritual practices. The tourism
industry has been particularly adept at promoting physical spaces to
facilitate neo-tribal engagement. Ibiza, after all, the spiritual home of
clubbing, has successfully marketed itself as a clubbing destination
for 25 years. Indeed, so reliant is Ibiza on tourism, much of it as a result
of its iconic status as the world’s premier clubbing destination, that the
local authorities are looking at ways of diversifying its economic base
(Gore, 2008). This of course provides market opportunities for other
tourist destinations around the world to cater to the needs of the club-
bing neo-tribe.
There is currently a wide body of work focused on the ‘service dom-
inant logic’ and the relationship between producer and consumer in
 C. Goulding, A. Shankar / Annals of Tourism Research 38 (2011) 1435–1453 1451

the co-creation of services (e.g. Vargo & Lusch, 2004). Tourism, given
its experiential nature is possibly the optimum example of the applica-
tion of the co-creation process. We suggest that adopting the frame-
work of ritual is one means of getting closer to the consumer and
enhancing both communication and service. For example, an under-
standing of myth may help to define and brand images of place. The
intervening period of formulism may offer an opportunity to develop
effective communications, while the stages of sacredness, communitas
and transformation should feed into the construction of the tourist
experience. Our data reinforce the centrality of the role of ritual to this
experience, highlighting, in particular, the split between work and
play, temporary but ‘meaningful’ community and the importance of
embodiment and its role in escapist leisure based activities.

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Submitted 2 June 2010. Resubmitted 12 July 2010. Resubmitted 5 December 2010. Final
version 7 March 2011. Accepted 21 March 2011. Refereed anonymously. Coordinating
Editor: Alan David Fyall