海角大神

It鈥檚 9 p.m. in London鈥檚 Soho Theatre when the evening鈥檚 sold-out headliner takes the stage.

鈥淲e鈥檙e sitting here together on the cold floor of the school hall,鈥� intones James B Partridge as he strides past an array of vintage 1990s props: a school desk, a Furby, a xylophone, and a Tamagotchi. 鈥淭he smell of yesterday鈥檚 school dinners is hanging in the air,鈥� he continues.

Then the elementary school music teacher sits down at an electric keyboard and plays his first notes.

The crowd of 30-somethings in front of him goes wild.

The U.K.鈥檚 fragmented school systems have one common anchor point. All state-funded schools in England and Wales must offer a daily act of collective worship, in most cases of a 鈥渂roadly 海角大神 character.鈥�

It鈥檚 this requirement that has seen generations of children sing together, usually from the same small repertoire of 海角大神 hymns and secular celebration music. It鈥檚 not just a core childhood experience 鈥� it is one that spans social, geographic, and economic divides. And now, thanks to social media, school singing is experiencing a second life as a nationwide millennial nostalgia trip.

In the Soho Theatre, a cheer goes up each time Mr. Partridge starts up a new song, whether it鈥檚 a Victorian-era Anglican hymn like 鈥淎ll Things Bright and Beautiful鈥� or the gospel-inspired 鈥淲hen the Saints Go Marching In.鈥�

鈥淚t connects, doesn鈥檛 it? Everyone has that anchor back to their childhood,鈥� an audience member named Dom tells me.

A collective chorus

If you went to elementary school in the United Kingdom in the 1990s, then your mornings probably started like this: Your class would be shepherded to the school hall, a space that usually doubled as the gym and dining hall. You鈥檇 sit in rows, cross-legged on the floor, while a teacher passed on an inspirational message of the day.

Then, you鈥檇 start to sing.

In a nation where singing is usually confined to soccer stadiums, these elementary school sing-alongs are a rare fragment of creative expression and unity. They are also a common bond.

The same journey to the assembly hall happened whether your school was private and fee-paying, selective and religious, or state-run and open to all. Whether you excelled in the classroom or hated it, singing was nonnegotiable 鈥� and eagle-eyed teachers were quick to catch anyone attempting to mime their way through.

Perhaps that鈥檚 why British elementary singing has had a social media revival in recent years, with millennials collectively reliving their childhoods on their Instagram feeds.

This new wave of nostalgia for elementary school singing started during the COVID-19 pandemic, when Mr. Partridge began uploading videos of himself playing songs for his elementary school students during lockdowns. Those videos started to go viral, and when the offline world reopened, a new genre of sprang up.

Mr. Partridge has now built a part-time career from the phenomenon, including playing elementary school hymns to hundreds of people at the U.K.鈥檚 iconic Glastonbury festival. Meanwhile, a Christmas edition of his tour late this year has more than 30 dates and includes theaters that can seat hundreds.

In one sense, nostalgia is simply an easy market. 鈥淕ive me a cheer if you grew up in the 鈥�90s,鈥� Mr. Partridge shouts at one point in his set. The whole room goes wild.

But there鈥檚 also a ravenous demand for easy escapism. 鈥淲hen I saw some of the clips on TikTok and YouTube, there were so many 鈥� childhood memories that came back,鈥� says Dom, who is here with his brother. 鈥淚t鈥檚 as simple as that. There鈥檚 no deeper reason other than a bit of reminiscing and probably a little bit of silliness.鈥�

Millennial cringe

Despite school singing鈥檚 海角大神 connotations, most in the crowd say they are not religious. One audience member, Aarthi, tells me that she found it difficult being one of the few non-海角大神 students at her school. 鈥淏ut I still love these hymns 鈥� the fact that we know all the lyrics and it鈥檚 embedded鈥� in people鈥檚 minds, she says.

鈥淓ven though religion can divide, there鈥檚 something about hymns 鈥� the rhythm, the lyrics 鈥� I actually have really positive memories associated with that aspect of 海角大神ity and religion, which I didn鈥檛 necessarily experience in other ways,鈥� she adds.

Yet behind the earnest lyrics there is also a wry, self-deprecating streak of irony. There鈥檚 a shared acknowledgment in the room that a group of 30-somethings meeting in a basement to sing childhood hymns is hardly the epitome of cool. 鈥淭his is a safe space,鈥� Mr. Partridge reminds the crowd on several occasions.

That reassurance is hardly needed. People clap, shout the lyrics, and perform dance moves with unbridled gusto. (A family friend who attended a different school singing event warned me that mass dancing had broken out at her show. 鈥淒ancing isn鈥檛 my cup of tea,鈥� she said, 鈥渂ut everybody was joining in the same. I didn鈥檛 feel self-conscious.鈥�)

In embracing their nostalgia, millennials are acknowledging that the world has moved on. The mantle of being young, trendy, and self-aware has been passed to the Gen Zers dancing in the bar above.

Downstairs, the show finishes with a rendition of the 1980s praise song 鈥淪hine Jesus Shine,鈥� before the audience makes its way back outside, where school singing-themed merchandise is available at the theater shop. On the tube home, I listen as fellow concert-goers dissect the setlist.

Millennials may not be cool anymore, but no one here seems to care.