Fabric forever: Remembering one of the best clubs the UK has ever seen

Music journalism is notoriously given to hyperbole but it’s no exaggeration to say that the decision to permanently close fabric nightclub marks the end of one of the world’s most respected electronic music institutions. On Tuesday September 6, a sultry evening at the summer’s end, Islington Borough Council, in the face of overwhelming evidence in the club’s favour, took six hours to revoke fabric’s license, intimating, in the wake of two drug-related deaths, that security was simply not tight enough.

London Mayor Sadiq Khan and local MP Emily Thornbury had both made statements in fabric’s favour but it was not enough to save it, and now dance music social media reverberates with disbelief and stunned shock. A slow realisation is dawning that if they can close fabric, which had stringent security and safety measures, then no nightclub in London or, indeed, the whole country is safe. Most especially if it’s situated in an area that property developers have their eye on.

fabric (always a small ‘f’) was a uniquely single-minded institution from the start. It was opened in 1999, during the millennial superclub explosion, in a Victorian building that had once been a butchers’ market and storage space. The men behind it were rave-mad London entrepreneurs Keith Reilly and Cameron Leslie, who’d been trying to get it off the ground for years. Unlike contemporaneous clubs, notably the much-hyped, short-lived, and overly glitzy Home in Leicester Square, its focus was always on the best underground dance music. It famously boasted an extraordinary soundsystem, constantly tweaked and improved as the years passed.

Initial success was partly built on the smart, adventurous tech-house played by residents Craig Richards and Lee Burridge (as their Tyrant project) and Terry Francis, and also via backing drum 'n' bass to the hilt, becoming a key player in the development of British bass music, a style that sounded enormous through the 400 bass transducers under the dancefloor, vibrating clubbers in a manner that gave the music actual physical presence.

As important was the vibe. fabric was a bit like a warehouse rave, gritty and sweaty, all about dancing, surrounded by the basic brick architecture of a bygone industrial age. The essence of the place was stark and plain-speaking. No frills, everything invested in what you were hearing. It’s no surprise that Detroit techno originators, such as Carl Craig, Robert Hood and Richie Hawtin, found it so appealing.

In the early years of this century, as grime and dubstep gestated within its walls, fabric also backed German-Chilean sonic adventurer Ricardo Villalobos who swept their soundsystem off on ear-boggling, extended journeys into psychedelic minimalism. Then again, if you went on another night, you might catch DJ Hype or Andy C thrilling an endearing cross-section of clued-in urban youth and wide-eyed passing tourists with a hyper-energized jump-up dubplate selection. fabric had it all.

The fabriclive Friday night, initially a mad mash-up featuring James Lavelle and Ali B, developed into a wild cross-section of British-based beats, while from 2009 the WetYourSelf! crew provided smart end-of-weekend sessions that defied every cliché about both mixed/gay and Sunday night clubbing. From 2001 fabriclive developed into a successful mix CD series (confusingly, so did the eponymous fabric mixes), and the affiliated Houndstooth label has, more recently, proved to be a launch pad for artists such as Marquis Hawkes, 18+ and Paul Woolford’s Special Request project. Less successful was Matter, a fabric sub-venue launched in 2008 and located at the O2. It never really took off and nearly broke the finances of its parent club, closing in 2010, but Keith Reilly was not to be defeated this time, and fabric wobbled momentarily then plunged onwards.

Across the globe, fabric became known as a cutting-edge club experience. Reilly himself treasured the evening John Peel played at his club in February 2002, born aloft by the crowd at the end of his set, but anyone who went to 77A Charterhouse Street will have their own memory, burnt in by the heat of the night, losing themselves to Seth Troxler, Mala, Ivan Smagghe, the Chemical Brothers, Annie Mac, Skream, Big Narstie or one of thousands of others with only one condition: no cheese allowed.

But now it’s all over, with the loss of 250 jobs. fabric put out a statement following the Council decision which concluded, “Closing fabric is not the answer to the drug-related problems clubs like ours are working to prevent, and sets a troubling precedent for the future of London's night time economy.” It certainly does. For 17 years, until their troubles really kicked in this August, fabric showed that a large club, a club with a capacity of 2500, could also be a place where the individual was valued, where music was king rather than cheap, lowest common denominator tat.

fabric, against all the odds, held onto the excitement and values of the rave era, revelling in joyous all-night hedonism and music that astounded the ears and mind. They brought the party and boosted local trade as they did so. Now, following a vicious media campaign, the jig is up. We should all, once again, be ashamed of what we allow those we have given power to do in our name.

fabric is dead. What a load of utter rubbish. Rave on.

Thomas H Green is a regular contributor to Mixmag

visionseven.co.uk shoots regularly for Mixmag