Any sufficiently high-energy rock show will see the formation of a mosh pit, a roiling Brownian motion of bodies in front of the stage. Yes, it can be dangerous, but mosh pits have become a tradition. How did we get here?
The Pogo
The most direct ancestor of moshing is the pogo, a dance anyone could do. You just stand in place and jump up and down like you’re on an imaginary pogo stick. The dance became a thing during the original punk rock days in the UK, where many venues lacked stages. With the band set up on the same level as the audience, those further back had to jump up and down to see what was happening.
The inventor of the pogo is alleged to be Sid Vicious, the uber-punk who eventually joined The Sex Pistols. It’s said that he started pogoing as a way of mocking the non-punks who came to see the Pistols. They would dance, but Sid felt they didn’t belong, conveying that message by aggressively bouncing up and down.
Another version of the story credits a pre-Pogues Shane MacGowan, who would go to punk shows dressed in a tight leather poncho that severely restricted his movements. All he could do was jump up and down.
But could the pogo have come out of the early days of Pink Floyd? According to those who followed them when they were still called “The Pink Floyd,” there was pogoing when they played the UFO Club in London in 1966. Take your pick.
Slam Dancing
By the end of the ’70s, the original punk sounds had fractured and segmented. One of the new offshoots was hardcore, one of the most aggressive forms of music in the history of the known universe. The idea was to dance with extreme enthusiasm, deliberately crashing (slamming) into other dancers.
The most frequent spot was in front of the stage, although at larger gigs, circles of slam dancers (“circle pits,” which could evolve into the “Walls of Death,” where a group breaks into two sides and the participants go at each other at full speed) could form anywhere in the crowd.
Credit for creating slam dancing has been given to David Wood, a roadie for The Weirdos, an L.A. punk band. Once he got them all set up at places like The Roxy, he’d start doing his thing in front of the stage, crashing into any punter within a hand’s width. Then again, it could have been part of the scene at a club called The Cuckoo’s News in Costa Mesa, Calif., which revels in its nickname as “The Birthplace of Slam Dancing.”
You had to be pretty tough. Fists, elbows and knees often got involved, resulting in blood, lost teeth and broken bones. What was behind this ultra-violence? Reaction to disco. Bands amping the crowd up into a frenzy. And lots and lots of testosterone that had nowhere to go.
We also have to bring up the 1981 documentary, The Decline of Western Civilization, directed by Penelope Spheeris. She took cameras around to various punk shows to document audiences doing their thing. There’s nothing like a doc to spread the word on something.
Walls of Death proliferated after the film. In New York City, things became even more extreme with moves called “windmilling” and “axe-handling.” Imagine the bruising, broken bones and chipped teeth.
Moshing arrives
We don’t hear people talk about slam dancing as much anymore. The nomenclature began to change in the early ’80s when some punk fanzines started referring to slam dancing as “mashing,” as in “mashed potatoes.” If we go back in time, we’ll find a Washington, D.C., band called Scream (featuring a 17-year-old Dave Grohl on drums) and a song called Total Mash.
The other band that turned slam dancing into moshing was The Bad Brains, another group out of the D.C. area. They were also very much into hardcore, but they also loved their reggae and dub. Frontman H.R. was always talking about “mashing” from the stage, urging the audience to “mash it up.”
But because H.R. has a Jamaican accent, “mash” was often heard as “mosh.” An example of that can be found towards the end of this song, where he’s actually saying “Mash it!/Mash it down, Babylon.”
Along with moshing came the rise of stage diving, the practice of clamouring up onto the stage with the band and then immediately diving into the crowd, which would (or would not) catch you. This started in 1964 during a Rolling Stones show in Germany.
Jim Morrison was definitely diving by 1967, and there is all kinds of film and photographic evidence of Iggy Pop launching himself off the stage in 1969.
Dee Snider of Twisted Sister also wants some credit. Back in the ’70s, someone in the crowd threw a beer bottle at him. Snyder responded by diving into the crowd to give him a right thrashing.
Grunge and beyond
Moshing really arrived during the grunge era of the ’90s. It became so popular that it was evident at almost every show at the time, regardless of genre. I remember seeing a mosh pit form at a Cranberries show because …well, that’s just what you did in the ’90s.
Venues have tried to keep a lid on mosh pits and their cousins because of the constant threat of injury. And when someone inevitably gets hurt (or worse), insurance rates go through the roof. Here’s an example.
On Nov. 13, 1997, Everclear was playing The Paradise, a club in Boston. In the mosh pit were three members of the New England Patriots: quarterback Drew Bledsoe, back-up QB Scott Zola and 305-pound offensive lineman, Max Lane. At some point in the gig, all three decided to move from moshing to stage diving. Gravity dictated an unwanted vector for Lane and he landed on 23-year-old Tameeka Messier. She got crushed, suffering injuries to her neck, shoulders and arms. Emergency surgery was required to remove two herniated discs and to fuse three vertebrae.
There was a lawsuit, of course, and in March 1999, Lane, Bledsoe, Everclear, and the club were found liable for $1.2 million.
In the 21st century, there has been something of a backlash against moshing. The injuries, the lawsuits and the deaths were just too much, especially when it came to insurance premiums. Venues actively discouraged mosh pits and crowd surfing. You often see “No Moshing” signs at venues and printed on concert tickets. And bands like Slipknot have come out against mosh pits, saying that they’re a form of bullying.
Still, moshers are gonna mosh. In 2014, an audience member was ejected from a concert in Bristol, England, marking the first time this had happened in 300 years.
The crime? Trying to crowd surf during a very serious performance of Handel’s Messiah. The crowd surfer, a chemist named Dr. David Glowecki, has not been asked back.
Let’s be careful out there.
© 2026 Global News, a division of Corus Entertainment Inc.
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