Meet Bala Club, the young collective who refuse to play by the rules

The whole thing ebbs and flows, is obviously so much more than the backing track to inner city hedonism.

Uli-K: “What we’re trying to push is vocal music; more emphasis on songwriting. Too many people are under the assumption that we’re writing songs for the club. Whether it’s abstract or intricate, our intention is never, ‘We want to hear this banger in the club.’ People started playing our music in the club because it’s very danceable but we were never conscious of…”

Endgame: “…Club music.”

Uli-K: “Yeah.”

Endgame: “We want people to have some real kind of emotional connection to the compilation, to listen to it a thousand times, for it to become a part of them in some way. If it’s just a bunch of club tracks, you half listen 10 times…”

Uli-K: “…Songs become too disposable when they’re just made for that purpose. You don't even get to hear the whole song because most times it’s going to be blended as part of a DJ set. That’s why ‘Bala Club Vol. 1’ is not necessarily for the club; it’s not supposed to be taken in for just one moment. It’s a statement forever, so people can always go back to it.”

Although Bala Club is not a vehicle for functional dance music, the most obvious (and easily acquired) space for the crew to present their work IRL at the moment is indeed ‘the club’. But they don’t take programming a night lightly and approach eight hours in a dark room from a subversive angle. They think parties that stick to one tempo and rely solely on DJs all night are dull, reckoning that more promoters should take greater risks and be more creative in their bookings. They’re also averse to ‘bro’ culture in the dance and in the booth. Bala Club parties emphasise live performances as much as DJ sets and represent the whole spectrum of the crew. It’s not just out and out turn up – although everyone always has a fucking good time.

A few days after we meet at Creams, Bala Club presents a showcase at London’s Corsica Studios. They’re in the venue’s hallowed second room, which is where you’ll often see ascending DJs play career-defining sets before they blow up (or graduate to the club’s main room, at least). It’s a tinderbox and the atmosphere inside is always palpable.

Endgame opens with a short, sharp set that consists of mostly his own productions. His signature rhythmic lope sounds satisfyingly full and seductive on the room’s fat soundsystem. Sky H1 steps up afterward and summons what sounds like one long, rippling trance breakdown. It’s dark but you can make out her ponytail and hooped earrings, illuminated by the light from her laptop screen, as if she’s looking into a whole other world and allowing us to hear the soundtrack. When drumbeats arrive, about three quarters of the way through her performance, they drop like heavy eyelids on the way to a blissful sleep.

What’s essentially an ambient set is not what you’d normally hear between midnight and 1am at a major club in London but this is the alternate reality that Bala Club seeks to construct. Uli-K is next, stepping into the booth in a balaclava, mic plugged into an effects box so his voice retains the autotune heard on his recordings. He’s joined by Malibu, who runs each track and provides backing vocals and the pair roll out a beautiful, introspective blend of reggaeton, rap and r’n’b. This music is obviously cathartic for Uli-K, who sings lines like “Want to cut you off, be by myself” and “I’m falling into darkness”, and the emotional content as well as the beats themselves resonate with the crowd. Certified moments are the pair’s collab ‘Breathe’, with its soft horns and deep, oscillating bassline, and ‘Fix Up’, one of the highlights of Uli's 'Elusivo' mixtape. The move from Sky H1 to this feels like the essence of Bala Club and people are reacting accordingly – Endgame, for instance, is cutting around down the front, throwing up gun fingers in support.

The rest of the night is just as unpredictable, with special guests/affiliates coming to join the Bala crew: Chino Amobi sets light to a bonfire of sirens, NYC traffic noise, distortion, Rihanna and Gqom; Nkisi gets the whole room pogo-ing to hardstyle, middle fingers raised while pressing pedal to the metal and Why Be rolls out sub-loaded techno and club.

Kamixlo’s already had his room 2 ‘moment’ (he spun the place around and around and around as part of a PAN and Codes showcase last September) so appears relaxed at the controls, though the crowd are nonetheless fervent. He casually swigs from a bottle of Ciroc while punching in his own tracks and a barrage of dancehall, UK rap and baile funk. The heat rises as he plays and it’s noticeable that the industrial fans that hang from the walls aren’t actually turned on; when we say hello to a friend, we notice that his glasses are completely steamed up.