The glittery world of Disco Queen

Words by Eoin Fenton.

Part documentary, part one-woman show, part rallying cry for recognition, Disco Queen is a pioneering work in its platforming of a beloved — but oftentimes sidelined — genre of dance. Disco Freestyle has come a long way from the dance floors of the seventies, evolving into an acrobatic frenzy of sequinned outfits, happy hardcore remixes, and little girls giving their all in weekly competitions.

Among the spartan smallies was Ella Tighe, a Bradford native, who would practice dutifully every Monday evening in the local working men’s club. A few years on, Tighe wheels her bright pink baggage out, unpacking nostalgia and extra lashings of blush before heading into a new, fictional competition: Relentless. Her manner is a little uncanny at first, her chest is puffed out, she struts the stage with an air-biting smile. She’s in competition mode. Tighe, in conversation with her mother’s voice notes, uproots a childhood full of hair-teasing and familial sacrifice for the glory of winning.

Freestyle isn’t without its controversy. Often derided as lacking refinement, overly gaudy, and too working class, it has long been the butt of the joke in the dance community. Where others see wildness, Tighe sees a determined taking of space in a world where young girls aren’t taken seriously. This reframing of Freestyle as a legitimate dance form is enlightening, particularly in its reflections of class. We swap back to Relentless, Tighe struts her stuff in the first round. She kicks and spins at a breakneck pace, earning her place to the finals.

It’s familiar territory for Tighe. This was her reality growing up. Rising at the crack of dawn to be driven to competitions across England every Sunday. “Freestyle dancers are tough as nails” Tighe says, “they’ve survived a crash course in rejection”. She gives it her all in her last solo, a knackering onslaught of jump splits and gyrations, but it’s not enough. Tighe collects her sixth place sash, donning it along with all of her other commiseration prizes. She becomes weighed down by sash after sash: ‘not good enough’, ‘not sassy enough’, ‘rubbish’. This burden of competition is a lot for anyone to handle, but for little girls it requires a passion beyond what many are capable of. At 18, Tighe retired from the world of Disco Freestyle.
The work, with its confessional nature and impressive moves, is full of charm.

In Disco Queen, Tighe treads the boards of the home of British contemporary dance, with all its legitimacy and seriousness, and demands that her sisters are seen. Tighe even pays it forward to the next generation, platforming the hyper talented tots from London’s own Generation Next, setting fire to the stage with an attack beyond their young years. It’s the perfect, big bang finale for this glittery ode to those girls who face the world with confidence and ferocity.

Header image by Elly Welford.