I joined Edinburgh Festival Fringe's most despised tribe - the silent disco dancer

I am guilty of finding silent disco participants profoundly annoying, but, then, I am easily piqued.

In past Scotland on Sunday columns, I have grumbled about fellow bus, cinema and Edinburgh Festival Fringe goers. And here I am again, being our resident misanthrope.

Anyway, silent discos and raves have become a staple on city streets and at events since the early Noughties, when the first of these parties was organised by Silent Events in Tennessee. If you’re not familiar, they deploy wireless headphones, so they work well in outdoor or indoor spaces where noise might cause damage or be a nuisance.

Some of the DecaDance team Pic: Kealan Bond

For instance, in 2013, Metallica performed a ‘silent concert’ in Antarctica, so as not to harm the environment.

During the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, this chicken-dancing and booty-quaking demographic is in full throttle. You’ll find them flossing by the David Hume statue on the Royal Mile, or twerking their way down Cockburn Street. Dodging Deliveroo cyclists while doing The Shoop Shoop Song on the Meadows’ cycle path.

If you get close, their human sounds remind me of silent music videos on TikTok or YouTube, when they take the track away. For instance, online you’ll find one of Dancing in the Streets with Mick Jagger and David Bowie, where the tune has been replaced by the sound of sniffing, knees creaking, mumbling and shoes squeaking.

According to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2024 programme, there are five varieties of silent disco show on offer this year, including one from the regular Guru Dudu, whose show includes “interpretive dance around local landmarks”.

Greyfriars Bobby must be chasing his tail in his grave.

This year, there’s also a newbie on the scene with DecaDance, which is run by Scott Linton and Laith Al-Khamis. I was invited along to a preview of their festival event. Mercifully, it’s an indoor experience at Virgin Hotel’s Greyfriars Hall in the Cowgate.

Before the evening’s shenanigans kick off, the crowd is lubricated with a fruity vodka spritzer, in the hotel bar, Eve. Still, I feel horribly sober as we’re led through to the hall, by a dancer in a silver disco-ball outfit that makes her resemble Twiki from Buck Rogers.

Once inside, we’re all presented with chunky over-ear headphones. They have a control for volume and another that lets you toggle between two music channels – one makes your headphones flash blue, the other red. We’re also each handed a chunky rainbow-striped glow stick.

When you’re dancing awkwardly, it’s great to have something to hold. I pretend mine is a rolling pin, or use it in lieu of a hairbrush microphone. We do a mini disco sword fight.

It’s useful, as I’ve always had problems over-thinking what to do with my arms while cutting a rug. Back in my clubbing days, everyone would throw their hands up in the air, and mine always stuck down at my side, penguin-style.

When we enter, everyone is already confidently doing the Macarena, including the wiggly bit. There is a small team of staff on hand, who dance enthusiastically and get everyone moving. We attempt to find the end of the line, to join in, but it’s as long and coiled as the old Nokia snake. The final ‘hey, Macarena, ay!” hits as we reach the final dancer. Damn it. Foiled.

Then the music segues into Robbie Williams’ Rock DJ and I can’t even dance ironically to this.

This is my soundtrack room 101. Everyone is chanting the lyrics, then they pop confetti over the crowd, and the dancers spin around in the blizzard of colourful paper shreds.

Next up is Dancing Queen. I hate ABBA too, though I know I’m probably the only one. I press the side button on my right can, and there’s something equally dire on the other channel.

It seems I’m here for the sole purpose of being a fun sponge. Still, everyone else is in the zone. I can see a former colleague throwing contorted shapes in the centre of the dance floor. I hope she’s OK. It’s funny how those you least expect are always the most uninhibited dancers.

I’m here with a friend and she’s started moving, so I attempt the side-to-side dad dance shuffle. I keep waiting for an excellent song to hit, to boost my enthusiasm, but it doesn’t happen.

There are a few bearable tunes, like Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance with Somebody, Earth, Wind and Fire’s September, and We Are Family by Sister Sledge, along with every other middle-of-the-road greatest hits track you could imagine.

I hide when the DJ gets everyone up to the front, to perform Rolling on the River moves from Tina Turner’s Proud Mary, or chant the Grease lyrics. Just. No.

They even unleash a saxophonist, who comes round and does the whole Zoot from The Muppets thing. When he appears, we’ve taken our headphones off temporarily, since, weirdly, you can hear the music with or without them. He sidles up to me, does a sax riff, then mutters “you won’t be able to hear anything if you haven’t got your headphones on”. But I can.

When they start playing Feel It, by the Tamperer featuring Maya, we decide we’re lost causes. I’m a bit sad to leave my glow stick. Otherwise, it’s only relief I feel as I slip out the door.

DecaDance Silent Disco, is on August 3, 4, 10, 11, 16, 17, 24 and 25, various times, tickets £13.50, see www.edfringe.com