After 31 years, the Terminus club in Olten is closing, a symptom of a wider crisis in the Swiss clubbing industry as nightlife venues struggle with a shift in social habits and a lack of younger patrons.
"The club concept has fallen out of fashion. You no longer go to an event to have fun. Itâs now a backdrop for documenting the experience on your mobile phone."
"In the 1990s, you could install four speakers, write âtechnoâ on the door â and the place was running."
Thirty-one years of bass-heavy history comes to a grinding halt this Easter. The Terminus club in Olten, a cornerstone of Canton Solothurnâs social fabric, is officially pulling the plug. While the venue once pulsed with the energy of thousands, it now grapples with a staggering 66% drop in attendance compared to its glory days. The dance floor, once a melting pot for the regionâs youth, has transformed into a 'living room' for a loyal but aging demographic of over-40s. As regular Andrea Hochuli laments the loss of her 25-year sanctuary, the reality is stark: the youth have simply stopped showing up. This isn't just a local business failure; it is a loud, clear signal that the Swiss night is changing forever. The closure of Terminus serves as a grim harbinger for an industry that was once the heartbeat of Swiss urban culture.
A staggering 46% of Swiss nightclubs have been wiped off the map in just one decade. Federal statistics reveal a brutal contraction: in 2013, Switzerland boasted 466 vibrant discos and clubs; by 2023, that number plummeted to a mere 249. This is not a slow decline; it is a structural collapse. From the Rhine to the Alps, the infrastructure of Swiss nightlife is eroding under the weight of shifting social habits. Alexander BĂŒcheli of the Swiss Bar and Club Commission notes that the 'golden age' of the 90sâwhere four speakers and a 'techno' sign guaranteed a full houseâis a distant memory. Today, venue owners confront a market that is increasingly fragmented and indifferent to the traditional clubbing model. The disappearance of these spaces leaves a cultural void that temporary pop-ups and home parties struggle to fill.
Social media is the silent killer of the traditional disco. Terminus co-owner DuĆĄan NedeljkoviÄ pulls no punches: 'The club concept has fallen out of fashion.' In an era dominated by digital curation, a static venue with the same walls and the same crowd fails to provide the 'content' young patrons crave. The dance floor is no longer a place to lose oneself; it is a backdrop for a 15-second Instagram story. When the experience is secondary to the documentation, the soul of the club dies. This shift has turned nightlife into a visual arms race, where venues must constantly reinvent their aesthetics to remain 'post-worthy.' For a medium-sized club in a town like Olten, the pressure to provide a constant stream of novel backdrops is financially and logistically impossible. The 'moment' has been replaced by the 'upload,' and the clubs are paying the price.
The economic engine of Swiss nightlifeâalcohol salesâis sputtering. In Zurich alone, club turnover has crashed by 40% in just five years. This financial hemorrhage is driven by a health-conscious Gen Z that increasingly views heavy drinking as a relic of the past. While sobriety is a public health win, it is a fiscal catastrophe for venues that rely on high-margin liquor sales to pay the rent. 'You can't replace alcohol sales with non-alcoholic alternatives,' warns Alexander BĂŒcheli. The volume required to stay viable simply isn't there when patrons order one mineral water and spend the rest of the night at the gym or hiking. The pandemic accelerated this trend, teaching an entire generation that Sunday morning brunch and a clear head are more valuable than a 4 AM strobe light and a hangover. The business model of the Swiss club is fundamentally broken.
Despite the carnage, the industry refuses to concede total defeat. There is a burgeoning belief that the 'analog experience' will eventually become a premium commodity in an over-digitized world. As our lives become increasingly mediated by screens, the primal human need to dance in a physical space with others remains a powerful counter-trend. However, the survival of Swiss clubbing will require a radical evolution. The era of the 'generalist' disco is over; the future belongs to niche, high-concept spaces that offer something social media cannot replicate: genuine, unscripted human connection. For Olten, the loss of Terminus is a painful wound, but for Switzerland, it is a wake-up call. The industry must innovate or continue its slide into irrelevance. The beat may continue, but the rhythm will never be the same.