Undiscovered London

Sunday morning, 7am, a disused warehouse on an industrial estate in an undisclosed part of London. Hundreds of people are still undulating in time to the seamless flow of melodic, soulful techno reverberating around the cavernous space. It sounds a bit like a tennis match of heavy drum rhythms.

After stepping into this clandestine world and surveying the scene, it’s impossible not to acknowledge the purist and primitive approach at play: No licence, no furniture, no cloakroom, no selfies, no overpriced drinks, no PR activity, no property developers sweeping in and putting a stop to it all. In other words, no bullshit – just a pounding, pulsating dancefloor, a DJ and a feral gaggle of nocturnal punters who are extremely averse to going home. It’s a gritty, in-your-face cultural statement about how scenes adapt and evolve when they feel under threat.

The security team remain on the perimeter of the site – the only time they appear anywhere near the dancefloor is to help carry an inebriated reveller to an Uber. It’s a refreshing antithesis to the tepid pop-up rooftop bar scene that the capital is increasingly becoming synonymous with. As there’s no licence to contend with, the party goes on for as long as the momentum – and judging by the earnest and discerning nature of this lot, it’s always going to be well into the next day.

The crowd, which hails from a variety of European clubbing tribes from psytrance free party veterans to German techno aficionados, DIY soundsystem specialists to Tottenham warehouse session heads, doesn’t fit into any neat ‘London-types’ boxes that you’d read about in Time Out. Fashion and trends and ‘look-at-me-I’m-at-the-coolparty’ isn’t the order of the day. Many say they’ve become jaded with nightclubs in the city. None have come here from a club night, many tell us that they are done with traditional clubbing.

People hear about these nights through word of mouth. You won’t find a public Facebook page with a ‘Like and share’ competition, and you can’t buy a ticket in advance. Great care is taken to preserve the covert nature of the whole thing, which is why we’re not mentioning the name of the event, the DJs, the location or the organisers. Attending one looks something like this: finding a deserted meeting spot which is disclosed at 10pm on the night, being discreetly ushered in the right direction by stewards and finding the party. Once you’re in, beyond respecting each other, there are no rules – nobody is going to tell you how you should be expressing yourself. The only caveat is a thorough weapons search on entry.

“You have to get to the event early; you have to get people in the building before you start any music,” Mixmag was told by an anonymous source. “Because if the police come, and you’ve only got 50 people inside there’s no negotiation. Security are searching everyone but not for drugs. They’re only here to make sure that people are safe.” Things round here really haven’t changed too much since the 90s; every Sunday morning, there are pockets of intoxicated people dotted around the capital scrambling through wooded areas, weaving through fences in eerily quiet wastelands or navigating pitchblack industrial labyrinths, all with the collective aim of finding a party and spiritual transcendence through the medium of repetitive beats.

The organisers of this party regularly attract 1,000+ people to both outdoor events and carefully sourced warehouses. They aren’t free parties – you have to pay to get in – so what does this offer that the clubs can’t right now? What gap is an event like this filling in London’s clubbing ecosystem? Chatting to some punters, a promoter and a DJ, on the dancefloor and in the chill-out area (the office of the warehouse) we try to find out. “Here you can do what you want – there are no restrictions,” Tulia, a 30- year-old academic, says. “Club nights are very regimented. Some other cities, like Berlin or Amsterdam, have got it right because they give you that freedom. But in the UK, you are so restricted.” It’s a common theme. “Everyone here is free,” a 49-year old guy from Jamaica says while throwing his arms around like a helicopter propellers. “They’re not restricted by other people’s ideas about how they should or shouldn’t express themselves.”

Jack, a 30-year-old chef, tells us that he’s attracted by the sense of freedom, too. “There aren’t really proper bouncers in the place for a start,” he explained. “Well there are, but the bouncers are your mates. The atmosphere is more chilled.” Beyond being able to do a balloon without the fear of being swiftly shown the door, the ‘family vibe’ at these events came up again and again. This is attributed to the fact that people find out about these goings-on through friends of friends, so it grows organically (not too fast) and the vibe remains consistent.

“There’s an understanding of what the crowd will be beforehand,” says a 20-year-old lad who helps promote the event. “It takes a specific type of person to go to a random warehouse in the middle of nowhere. A lot of people aren’t ready for that.” This sentiment was echoed by a 26-year-old who works in marketing and preferred to remain nameless. “It’s because right here only the music matters; it’s not just a big name who’s playing. We all come for the same reason: we all enjoy good music and good vibes. For me it’s the best party in London.”

A 30-year-old artist, Pierre, nods in agreement: “Everyone here comes for the music and the culture; not because it’s the place to go to seem cool.” Damian, a 22-year-old student from France, only goes to events like this. “You just don’t get this in clubs,” he says. “I mean, look around: the atmosphere is special. People are very respectful, very nice. In some clubs in London it’s about who has the biggest bottle of vodka or whatever.”

“It’s good that they are not that popular,” a DJ at the event says. “They are popular within certain communities only. I think that people are attracted by the unconventional venues, the adventure of getting to them and the atmosphere. It creates more room for freedom of expression and preserves this type of music.” People clearly come to these events for different reasons. The fact that the security side of things is focused solely on keeping everyone safe (instead of enforcing the government’s floundering drug policy) undoubtedly plays a part. It makes the whole clubbing experience more palatable for some. Others prefer to come to a night that has been put on because the people behind it genuinely enjoy putting it on for that specific group of people rather than to make money – a notion that is lost on parts of the traditional clubbing scene. For most it is probably a combination of all the above.

Only one thing’s for sure, though: if more clubs in London are forced to close their doors at 3am and maintain draconian security measures, events like these are going nowhere. The Mayor of London, Sadiq Khan, might be seeing his “24-hour vision for London” coming to fruition – but perhaps not on his terms.

The name of the event and the names of the DJs, location and organisers have been omitted to protect the scene.