Pop Party Promoter Club 90s Is Changing Gen Z Nightlife Culture, One Midnight Memory at a Time

Pink and blue lights dance off the mirrored disco ball that hangs from the ceiling of New York’s Le Poisson Rouge, illuminating the hundreds-deep crowd beneath it. It’s early in the night on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, only about 9:30., but the audience is already buzzing with impatience. “Um, can you play a song with a fucking beat?” the cluster of sparkling tiaras and glittering cowboy hats screams collectively, reciting the lyrics to “Femininomenon,” Chappell Roan’s anthemic single about the pitfalls of dating men. There are seven people onstage leading the charge — though the singer herself is actually about 200 miles away, having brought in a similarly animated, though much larger, crowd to her festival set at Boston Calling a few hours earlier. 

Roan is present only in the spirit of the more than 200 fans who filed into the Greenwich Village concert venue for Pink Pony Club: Chappell Roan Night, a pop-themed party presented by the Los Angeles-based event organizer Club 90s. For three and a half hours, DJ Katie Murphy spins a blitz of hits and deep cuts in celebration of the Midwest Princess, spending almost an equal amount of time mixing songs behind the booth as she does dancing with the fans that join her onstage. She looks the part, too, with glitter brushed across her body and lavender fishnet gloves climbing her arms. The crowd matches her energy, donning prom sashes, feather boas, and merchandise for everyone from Roan to Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift. One of Club 90s’ greatest acknowledgments came from Swift herself. “THIS is what it’s all about, why I live to make music,” the singer wrote on her Instagram Story in November 2021, sharing a clip of a room full of fans screaming “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” at a Club 90s party. “The hope that maybe people might want to come together and feel things.”

Terall Miller, 24, makes his way to the stage a few times throughout the night, but spends most of the party dancing in a cluster of friends, the gems on his crown refracting the venue lights. “We kept joking around that it’s like a Met Gala because it’s our time to show ourselves, show our celebration, show our uniqueness, our creativity,” he explains, adding, “When we come to events like this — where it just doesn’t matter who you are, where you come from, or what color your skin is — it’s just people who want to be safe and celebrate and dance. I think that’s what it’s all about when you come to Club 90s parties. You don’t have to be afraid of anybody judging you or taunting you or being scared. It’s a very safe, free environment.” For younger people whose connection with club culture was largely altered by the onset of the pandemic, these events set their expectations high. 

Club 90s parties typically bring out a young audience of primarily women and queer fans, two demographics with complex experiences regarding safety in the sphere of nightlife. “It seems like a lot of the people here have a lot of respect for the music,” says Ella Freeman, 19. “It certainly creates a nicer space as opposed to some other spaces, which can be a little bit unsafe or scary at times, depending on where you go. It can get pretty sketchy sometimes.” Britney Prince, 19, had never never attended a Club 90s event before Chappell Roan Night, but made similar observations, noting, “It definitely feels like a safe queer space.” And the audience looks out for each other, too, inviting solo stragglers to join their groups and be best friends for the night. “We all understand that we got each other,” adds Destiny Moore, 21.

Before joining Club 90s a bit more than a year ago, Murphy adopted this ideology not as a DJ, but as a fan. While working as a private-school teacher, the 29-year-old would attend their Disney Channel Night, One Direction Night, Arctic Monkeys Night, and everything in between. The events — hosted everywhere from New York and Los Angeles to Honolulu, Raleigh, North Carolina, Denver, Salt Lake City, and other cities — center around a particular artist or theme, but feature music from adjacent acts when fitting. “Any music that I knew, I would go and I was just the most excited person there,” Murphy told Rolling Stone backstage at Le Poisson Rouge at around 8 p.m., less than an hour before she was due onstage. Her enthusiasm caught the attention of Club 90s founder and primary DJ Jeffrey Lyman, who recruited her after she became a regular at events. “Jeffrey was unlike any other DJ that I’ve ever seen,” Murphy recalls. “The interaction with the crowd, the dancing all night — it was less ‘Here’s my DJ skill’ and more ‘This is for you guys.’” From him, she learned to straddle the line between DJ and fan, essentially the core ethos of these events. 

Lyman founded Club 90s in 2014, nearly a decade into his DJ’ing career, as an excuse to host nostalgia parties centered around his favorite Nineties acts like No Doubt, Selena Quintanilla, and Spice Girls. After four or five years, he began approaching the parties as a free-for-all with no limits on genres or eras. “As a die-hard fan, I knew what I wanted to hear and I knew what the other fans wanted to hear,” Lyman says on a call. He was originally meant to lead Chappell Roan Night — Club 90s’ second one, following a massively successful debut in Los Angeles in April that drew a larger audience than its release parties for Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poets Department — but had Murphy step in due to a scheduling conflict. 

Lyman admits he was something of a control freak when it came to Club 90s, until he realized that the scale of the parties was becoming too difficult to manage on his own. It wasn’t just that the crowds were growing, but artists were starting to take notice, too. “When we started doing these, I was just like, ‘Do these artists know about us? Do they support this idea?’” he says. “And pretty much every single night that we’ve done has gotten some recognition from the actual artists.” Swift, the Weeknd, and Bad Bunny have all reposted scenes from nights dedicated to them, and teams behind Billie Eilish and Lady Gaga are providing Club 90s with merchandise for fans attending upcoming events. “They understand what we’re trying to do,” Lyman adds. “They get the idea, and they get that we’re celebrating them, not trying to make a dime off of their name.” 

In his search for DJs, Lyman needed them to have the same understanding. “When it came time to pick DJs to go on tour and help me with these parties, I immediately was like, ‘OK, who’s showing up to my events and who’s bringing that energy that I’m delivering onstage?’” he explains. He set his sights on people who were already regulars, even if they weren’t actual DJs. “You could be the best, well-trained, technically amazing DJ ever,” he continues, “but if you do not make a connection with your audience, if you do not know how to read a room, if you don’t participate in the event almost as if you are there just as a customer, then there’s no point in even being there.”

Just more than an hour into the night, Murphy slams the exhilarated crowd with Olivia Rodrigo’s “All-American Bitch,” followed by Miley Cyrus’ “We Can’t Stop,” and Roan’s “Naked in Manhattan,” from her album The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. With her phone in hand to capture content for TikTok and Instagram — platforms on which Club 90s boasts more than 208,000 and 92,000 followers, respectively — the DJ is barely distinguishable from the 15 fans who rushed the stage. But Murphy balances her role carefully, gently bringing order to the room without killing the vibe as she tells the audience, “You can come up [onstage] for any song, just take the stairs.” They take advantage of this offer during another high-energy run, where Murphy transitions from Troye Sivan’s “Rush” into Roan’s “My Kink Is Karma,” Swift and Ice Spice’s “Karma (Remix),” Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso,” and Roan’s “Red Wine Supernova.” At the edge of the stairs, a watchful security guard assists in enforcing a loose “10 people at a time” rule. He’s mostly concerned with making sure no one gets close to Murphy’s equipment with their drink and brings the night to an early end. 

Even when the stage reaches capacity, the room feels wholly disinterested in the kind of content-capturing behavior that often sours live-music experiences. “I just love being in a space with other fans, and getting to enjoy people who aren’t just there for one video,” says Paris Miller, 21, who recently attended Bad Bunny Night with friends. “We weren’t even really recording that night. We’re enjoying the vibe of being around other people. We went to One Direction Night, as well. That was another big one. It’s almost like nostalgia. Even for these newer artists, it’s still like, ’This is just gonna be a great memory for us.’” 

BEFORE THE PARTY, Miller and her friends spent hours on FaceTime, coordinating their outfits in line with Roan’s porcelain glam aesthetic. “This night was especially a time to pop out because she just has such a huge presence when she performs,” Alyaa Abdelaal, 23, explains. They vetoed outfits they had worn out before and compared inspiration boards based on the singer’s most iconic looks. Their friend Victoria Georgiou, 23, channeled Roan’s Coachella makeup, while Miller tapped into the over-the-top dramatics of her NPR Tiny Desk Concert appearance. This is more than just a casual night out. “The older I get, going out no longer means just sitting in the corner of a bar trying to scope out who’s hot so I can talk to them,” says Sofia Mendoza, 28. “It’s not like I’m going to find a partner or anything like that. I literally just want to have a good time. So why not get super dressed up and super girly and have an actual fun time?”

By projecting official music videos and deep-cut footage onstage, Club 90s preserves the atmosphere of a concert while still feeling like a nightclub. When Murphy spins Marina and the Diamonds’ “Bubblegum Bitch” and Paramore’s “Still Into You,” the videos transport the room back to the early-2010s Tumblr era in an instant. And when she drops Troye Sivan’s “One of Your Girls,” the crowd unravels at the sight of Ross Lynch in the sensual visual. The audience’s cheers jump a few decibels when Megan Thee Stallion appears in the video for “Not My Fault,” her collaboration with Reneé Rapp. “The screams when certain parts come on during videos — my ears are bleeding,” Lyman says, adding, “The energy is a million times crazier at these nights, sometimes, than at an actual concert.” Besides, where else would they hear “Pink Pony Club,” Katy Perry’s “Hot N Cold,” Kesha’s “Die Young,” and Laga Gaga and Beyoncé’s “Telephone” back to back?

A few years ago, Club 90s began hosting afterparties on the same night certain artists would be in town. In 2022, they hosted three different Harry Styles and One Direction parties at New York venues during Styles’ 15-night residency at Madison Square Garden. Earlier this year, they partnered with Olivia Rodrigo’s team — who took notice of them after a video of Lyman dropping her edgy pop-rock anthem “Good 4 U” at a One Direction Night in 2021 went viral on TikTok — to bring the official Guts tour afterparty to Mercury Lounge following her own show at Madison Square Garden. “I had assumed everyone that was at the afterparty was at the concert, and it was actually only like half of the people,” Lyman explains. “People that couldn’t afford a ticket or didn’t feel comfortable going into a huge arena, for them to come and still hear the music and be with the fans and go crazy like at a concert, it’s incredible to me.” 

When nights are centered around acts that don’t, or rarely, tour — like One Direction and Justin Bieber, for instance — fans are offered a rare chance to connect in a communal space offline. At around 12:10 a.m., One Direction’s “Best Song Ever” makes it into the Chappell Roan Night rotation, followed swiftly with Harry Styles’ “Kiwi” — the exhilaration of which prompts a group of swooning girls to literally crumble to the floor — and a second round of Roan’s “Red Wine Supernova.” The early Club 90s nights dedicated to One Direction marked a “breakthrough” for the parties, according to Lyman, who notes the amount of love and enthusiasm among those audiences. “It’s literally healing your inner child,” says Sherlene Benoit, 24. “I haven’t been able to see One Direction in concert, so it’s like being there in a different way. I can put out all of my emotions that I felt when I was a teenager.” Murphy says she’s even started to prefer these parties to actual concerts, in some instances: “I say this all the time, I would rather go to a Taylor night than go to a Taylor concert.” 

There’s also a conscious effort made to set Club 90s parties apart from similar events with elevated experiences; at Lana Del Rey Nights, for instance, they occasionally book appearances from burlesque performers. At around 10:30 p.m., Murphy deploys “Femininomenon” once again as she unveils the special surprise planned for Chappell Roan Night. This time, local drag artist Jamie CD dominates the stage, dropping into splits and glimmering in a sequined fringe jacket. Less than an hour later, drag performer Sasha Vanguard spins and stuns during “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl.” Both performers landed on Club 90s’ radar after they opened for Roan at Webster Hall in February 2023. “This is an iconic New York stage — you’ve got people like Charli XCX [who have] performed here, legends in the making,” Jamie CD said backstage before heading out. “I don’t know if Chappell has actually been here — I feel like she would be here — but we’re bringing her essence tonight.”

Roan is currently in the midst of an intense meteoric rise, marked by viral festival performances and streaming surges. Lyman felt this electric charge rising at the first Club 90s Chappell Roan Night, and it reminded him of his early No Doubt and One Direction parties. “I will wholeheartedly say that party was one of those moments where it’s just a new energy coming in, and a new life,” he says, acknowledging that it’s hard to ever predict what pop will latch onto next: “You don’t get too many of those.” Between July and August, Club 90s will host three dozen Pink Pony Club parties on an extensive tour making stops across North America.

After a decade of hosting these events, it’s the emergence of artists like Roan that recharges the DJ’s outlook on both parties and music as a whole. “She’s just in her own element, kind of like how Gaga was when she came out,” Lyman continues. “To see that and to see the reaction — everyone singing every single word to this artist that literally is not on the radio or on magazines, or is still touring venues that are the size that we’re throwing these parties in — is crazy to me, but also so cool. You just can see where it’s all going.”

Just before the clock strikes midnight, Jamie CD and Sasha Vanguard join forces during “Hot to Go,” leading the crowd in spelling out H-O-T-T-O-G-O for the song’s quick-moving dance number. Earlier in the night, after briefing Jamie CD on the moves backstage, Vanguard spoke to the importance of spaces that pop parties like Club 90s create for fans, saying, “When we are allowed to embellish our lives for one night, I think that’s what makes it so exciting and so special. That’s what makes everybody want to dress up for the theme, and wear the hats, and wear the looks that they don’t normally wear to a normal night out. The music of it all and the dancing of it all, everything — that’s what creates that environment.” 

Throughout the party, the playlist grows to include songs from Billie Eilish, Nicki Minaj, Kesha, Icona Pop, Lorde, Charli XCX, Robyn, Madison Beer, Ariana Grande, and others, all slotted between the entirety of The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. “At some point, I’m just with my friends and the audience just happens to be there. We’re just having a time,” says Ray Luly, 22. “Personally, these nights are my ideal night out. The playlist is going to hit no matter what.”

At 12:30 a.m., Murphy plays “Picture You” as the final song of the night. The people slow-dancing in pairs break apart when the ballad ends and clusters of sweaty fans begin filing out of Le Poisson Rouge. 

“Miss DJ,” one attendee shouts to grab Murphy’s attention. “Thank you so much, you were so fun.” Some even wait to exchange socials with her. The party might be over, but as one impassioned fan still floating on a Roan-fueled high enthusiastically proclaims just outside of the venue doors: “The night is just beginning.”