Alan Byron’s film is an absorbing docu-celebration of the northern soul scene that flourished from the late 1960s to the end of the 1970s. It was a fascinating, vernacular youth movement and a kind of regional open secret: a club culture, a zine culture, a music-and-fashion culture which uncynically invented and sustained itself without the need for any svengali figure from London to keep the show on the road. Northern soul fans were passionate about thumpingly sensual mid-60s American soul, a musical style which they kept alive on the all-night dancefloor by doing spectacular spins and drops, while the official voice of the music business decreed that disco or MOR rock or glam or heavy metal was where it was at.

DJs would travel to the US to sort through the boxes and mounds of 7-inch vinyl which had been discarded by Motown and the radio stations – basically prospecting for gold – and bring it back to northern English clubs. The principal clearing house was the mighty Wigan Casino which mounted legendary all-nighters from 2am to 8am, attracting soul fans from miles around who knew that this was the only place where certain tracks could be heard. (No Spotify or Apple Music in those days.)

Licensing laws meant that only Coca-Cola could be served, but dancers took amphetamine, a part of the northern soul scene that has perhaps only recently been acknowledged fully, and is in fact not looked into all that closely here. It carried on through the 1970s, all but ignored by the cultural gatekeepers of the south; that is, until documentarist Tony Palmer brought his cameras and lights into the club to make The Wigan Casino as part of Granada TV’s This England strand, an outsider incursion grumblingly resented at the time but now treasured as a unique archive record.

What is fascinating about northern soul is the way it survived under the media-cultural radar and appears to resist larger interpretive analysis. It was not overtly political, unlike punk or reggae, and there is no consensus here about the status of the northern soul consumers. Were they unemployed, poor, alienated and angry? Not necessarily. Many here recall having good jobs and apprenticeships of the sort they wouldn’t have now.

As for whether it was revolutionary in any sexual sense, commentator Paul Mason suggests that there was something homoerotic in the male atmosphere. Maybe, yes: but no one here has any first-hand experience to share about that. As for the Wigan Casino itself, the building’s lease was terminated by the council at the end of the 70s prior to planned demolition; just when the tenants might have disputed this, the building mysteriously burned to the ground. (Maybe we need David Peace to write a novel about that.) Northern soul was clearly the godfather of the club and rave scenes of the 90s and beyond, but for me, a question remains: what did the American acts themselves think of it? Were they ever tempted (or invited) to play live at the Wigan Casino?