Always Remember Tony: What Tony de Vit Taught Me About Club Culture

Some names stay with you. Not just because of the records, but because of what they come to represent: a sound, a feeling, a moment when you realised that this music was going to be part of your life.

For me, Tony de Vit is one of those names.

I was a young man from Belvedere, in South East London, looking towards a world of clubs and dance music that felt bigger than the streets I knew. Tony was part of the story I was drawn into. His connection to hard house runs through my own musical roots, and his influence still matters when I think about what club culture can mean to people.

A few years ago now, Ray De Vit — Tony’s dad — gave me something I’ll always treasure: a portrait of Tony, hand-annotated, “To Carl Nicholson, 25th Feb 2001. From Tony’s dad, Ray.” Underneath, in pencil, the caption reads “2001 Carl Nicholson, voted Tony de Vit’s greatest fan.” Ray gave it to me back in February 2001, around the time of the memorial. It hangs on my wall as a reminder that remembering someone is something families carry too, and that being trusted with that memory is an honour, not a badge.

This isn’t an attempt to sum up a whole life or a whole scene in a few paragraphs. It’s my personal tribute: to Tony, to the people who helped shape the music, and to the importance of remembering where it came from.

A sound that became part of my story

My musical roots reach back to hardcore, house, hard trance and hard house. Hard house is especially tied to the de Vit era for me: the energy, the attitude and the feeling that the dancefloor could become its own little world.

That world didn’t mean everyone had to be the same. It meant a room full of people could meet through music, forget the outside noise for a while and share something that didn’t need explaining. If you’ve been there, you know the feeling. If you haven’t, try not to worry: no special handshake is required.

My path also took me towards trance. Jam & Spoon’s “Right in the Night” was the track that opened that door for me. It’s a reminder that musical journeys aren’t always tidy, with one genre neatly handing you over to the next. You follow what moves you. Sometimes it’s a new sound; sometimes it’s a record that makes you stop and think, What on earth was that? I need to hear it again.

That sense of discovery is one of the things I associate with club culture. It invites you in, then keeps opening doors.

Remembering Tony, together

After Tony died, I wanted to do something that honoured what he meant to people. I helped organise a memorial event at Brixton Academy. It was a way to bring people together around the music and the memory of someone who had mattered deeply to me and to the scene.

The event was part of the story behind ART: Always Remember Tony. For me, those words mean more than a tribute name. They carry a responsibility. If someone helped shape the music and the culture you love, don’t let their contribution slip quietly out of view.

That doesn’t mean we need to freeze the past in amber or pretend everything was perfect. Club culture lives because people keep carrying it forward. We can celebrate the people who came before us while making space for new sounds, new artists and new generations on the dancefloor.

What I took from his example

People sometimes ask what one artist taught another. The honest answer isn’t always a neat list of lessons, and I’m not going to invent a conversation or put words in Tony’s mouth. What I can talk about is what his place in my life and in the scene taught me to value.

First: the music is bigger than one person.
A DJ stands in front of the room, but the moment belongs to everyone in it. The crowd, the dancers, the people behind the scenes and the people who keep showing up all help make the culture. That shared feeling is part of the point.

Second: pioneers deserve to be remembered.
It’s easy to enjoy a sound without knowing the people and histories connected to it. New listeners shouldn’t have to pass an exam before they can join in, but knowing a little about the roots makes the experience richer. The next generation should get to discover the music for themselves, and hear why those who helped shape it mattered.

And third: keep the door open.
My own route moved across hardcore, house, hard trance, hard house and trance. There’s no need to pick a single box and guard it like a bouncer with a clipboard. Music changes; people change; tastes widen. The culture stays alive when curiosity has room to breathe.

Tony remains part of that story for me. The memorial at Brixton Academy was one way of showing that connection. ART became a way of putting its central idea into words: always remember.

What “Always Remember” means now

To me, remembering Tony isn’t only about looking back. It’s about paying attention to the things that make a scene worth caring about: the records, the people, the friendships and the feeling of being in a room where the music takes over.

It also means recognising that today’s club culture has a history. The younger listener finding hard house now doesn’t need to have been there at the same time as the people who first lived it. You can arrive years later, hear a sound that grabs you and become part of its next chapter. That’s not an imitation of the past. It’s how music keeps moving.

For longtime clubbers, memories can be a kind of map. One track brings back a place, a night, a face or the version of yourself who first heard it. For newer fans, the same music is a new discovery. Both experiences belong on the dancefloor.

That’s the balance I want to hold on to: respect the people who came before us, without shutting the door on whoever comes next. Keep the spirit, not just the memorabilia.

The past isn’t finished

I’m proud to have been involved in remembering Tony, and I carry ART as more than the name of a tribute event. It’s a reminder of the connection between music and memory, and of the people whose influence stays with us long after the moment has passed.

For me, Tony de Vit is part of that connection. He was a key figure in the story of the music and club world I was drawn towards as a young man from Belvedere. Hard house was one of the sounds that shaped my own musical journey, even as that journey took me into other styles.

If you’re new to Tony’s name, start with the music and follow your curiosity. If you remember the era, you’ll already know that some sounds never really leave you. And if you’ve been in this scene for years, you know the importance of passing those memories on, not as a lecture, but as an invitation.

The dancefloor belongs to the people in it. The story belongs to all of us who keep it alive.

Always Remember Tony.

To explore more about my musical background, visit About Nicholson, browse more stories on the blog, or listen to my music on Spotify. For a wider look at Tony’s place in hard house, read DJ Mag’s feature on Tony de Vit, Trade and the energy of hard house.