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Pre-order shipping week beginning 17th Nov 2025

Limited Edition Hardback version

“Whether your first experience of Northern Soul was trying to backdrop to a scratchy cassette at the youth club or nodding to the beat and trying not to stare at the spinners and swallow-divers in a regional ballroom in the wee hours, you’ll probably be asking yourself (like me and Marvin) -what’s going on? Who are these people on the web, peddling this insipid travesty of what has been our passion for decades? How did the scene become the preserve of pretty young things? And what the hell can I do about it?

In this book, Paul Sadot exposes the social media interpretation of Northern Soul for what it is – theft. A heist of perhaps the most underground movement in British popular culture. Drawing on 40 years’ experience as a dancer, record collector and DJ in the soul scene, Sadot interrogates the influencers and calls out the 21st century custodians of a culture which they have cheapened and faked for personal gain.

Honest, incisive and entertaining, Insta(nt) Soul hits back at the tide of blandness that has stultified the scene and packed it in a pretty parcel of cosy nostalgia for smartphone surfers.”

Hobie Sconner – The Gutter and Stars

“Way back in the early 00s I was sat in a basement at Granada TV’s headquarters in Quay Street, Manchester watching an ancient video pulled up from the vaults. A crestfallen Anthony Wilson was sitting down there too just after he’d been declared bankrupt.

The video I was watching was the seminal episode of ‘This England’ that explored the impact of Wigan Casino on the northern/rare soul sub/culture that was at its height before punk stole a lot of its thunder in 76 and 77.

The northern scene was largely undocumented and so when I saw hours of unused ‘rushes’ from the short documentary I thought I’d hit the motherlode. Yet sadly (for me) the same footage was being used for Paul Sadot’s play ‘’Once Upon A Time in Wigan’ as a backdrop to the action.

I only recognised Sadot from his role as one of the bullies in Dead Man’s Shoes so his history within the northern soul scene was unknown. I’ve always been intrigued by northern and dabbled in it a few times but never too much of a degree. We regarded soulies as dinosaurs by 78 but within a year or two ex punks were back doing footsie on youth club dancefloors thanks largely to the mod revival of 79.

Of all the aspects of northern soul undoubtedly it was the dancing that became the most extraordinary manifestation. A stylised evolution of black soul steps (see Tommy Hunt) it was an amphetamine fuelled precursor to many breakdance moves. Think of it like this; in 1974 who else in the world was dancing in this fashion to obscure soul 45s dredged up from musty boxes rotting away in cellars and vaults?

The best dancers became legendary such as Widnes man, Frank Booper. These were lads (it was largely a male performance scene) with tough lives, doing tough work in tough industrial towns like Widnes, Wigan, Preston, Warrington, Manchester, Nottingham, Stoke. Their release came in dance. It became their religion. That’s not cheap cliche or hyperbole it’s a fact.

Keeping the faith over the next 40 years after the closure of the Casino was an act of pilgrimage. To visit these holy sites where the scene continued across Britain was itself a devotional exercise and that’s why Sadot is so pissed off at what has happened to his beloved scene.

This book is a beautifully written, excoriating polemic against those who have become the self-appointed ‘faces’ of the ‘revivalist’ northern soul scene. You’ve seen the videos, the dance classes, the Proms, the karaoke fashions and Sealed Knot recreations of a palimpsest soul scene that is as manufactured and shallow as any Simon Soussan bootleg.

Sadot takes no prisoners. He names names. His swipe at the BBC in particular is brilliant. We live in a culture of instant and relentless nostalgia. Every movement, every music, every fashion, every dance, every pose is a copy of a copy of a copy and somewhere the original has been lost, decayed, defaced. Do you remember ten seconds ago? Wasn’t t it great ten seconds ago? I wish it could be ten seconds ago all the time. Do you remember ten seconds ago????”

Phil Thornton (Casuals)