This is a testament to the hard work, commitment and dedication of the people who have made The Social what it was and is to this day. A fiercely independent hub for counter culture, art, music, performance and literature which has somehow defied the gargantuan beast of the city around it and continues to thrive amidst the backstreets of Fitzrovia.

Nestled on Little Portland Street the venue is bolted behind an iron shutter, a small sign hangs atop a single door and you’d be forgiven for missing it. Over the years the shutters have been emblazoned with work from musicians and artists. At present there is a whopping great bird branded on the front of it, the logo, a fitting tribute to the longevity of the space.

However, there is still to a degree, an inconspicuous edge to the venue, you’d need to be in the know to appreciate the sprawling list of famous names and faces who have graced the softly lit hallway and the darkened basement which sits below.

The likes of Primal Scream, The Chemical Brothers, Flying Lotus, Outkast, Andrew Weatherall, Beck, Edna O’Brien, Wolf Alice, Adele, Bon Iver and Aphex Twin have all performed or passed through the space. Pretty remarkable considering the fact that the capacity of the venue and bar sits at somewhere close to 200 odd people and trust me, when it’s that busy, you can damn well feel it.

There’s an air of exclusivity about it, not in some sort of pretentious ego driven way but in that you might stumble upon anyone and anything in here if you do frequent it regularly enough. Then there’s the punters, a creative bunch who each have a story to tell from a foggy fabled late night, the staff who remain as happy go lucky and committed to the sensibilities of the ‘vibe’ and all of the familiars who have helped contribute and breathe a sense of community into what has become a London institution.

Nicky is one such patron. Formerly the lead booker at the space, she helped pioneer the shape of the music programme at The Social for many years and has a wealth of stories and memories to match.

“I was here for the first five or six years so It was quite a long time to be somewhere. At the time it was a place for all those new bands out there. Young people who knew that this was somewhere that could represent them, a place where they could come and express themselves. Even if it was just five minutes on stage or five minutes on the decks.

It became essential to this sort of ramshackle group of music loving, culture loving people. It was somewhere that they could all call home.”

The Social was predated by Heavenly, a longstanding record label and party which then made the venue its hub. Nicky reflects on the nature of the music policy which helped formulate the ethos and identity behind the space.

“It was all eclectic, a disparate bunch of people from around the country. We didn’t come together and force one particular genre of music down anyone else’s throat. It was the joy of all of the mixing, the melee of the collective. There were no rules. It was a timely and wonderful opportunity to meet so many heroes and to have the opportunity to put on these new bands and DJ’s. For that reason I don’t think I’d ever want it to change, you want to go to see that amazing band in a small, intimate venue. There are young people now who are finding this place to still be vital and essential. It’s just so non judgmental and that’s our future.”

The variety of the programming at the venue is one element which makes the venue unique. The Social isn’t just a club, a party den or a bar. It is a place rooted in the cultural exchange of new ideas and conversation. It attracts all sorts from all walks of life.

Kieran Evans is a filmmaker who has a rich connection to the venue, both personally and professionally.

“When The Social first opened, I shot a video here secretly for David Gray’s ‘Babylon’. If you look back at it there’s some shots you’ll see in the video. They’ve got this gorgeous little spot right by the light panels and over by the fire door.”

Over the years he’s spent many a late night and shared a myriad of conversations propped by the bar.

“I don’t come here knowing that there’s somebody here that I know will be here, but knowing that there will always be someone I know that I can talk to. I think that’s special. There’s been many occasions where I’ve stood by the bar and I’ve become friends with people that I’ve just met. Not in a painful Shoreditch or Hackney kind of way.

Sometimes I’ll be standing there and people will ask me ‘what’s your connection with the club?’ Then all of a sudden we’re sitting in a booth and we’re talking, regaling each other with stories and stuff.

I’d hate for people to think that it’s simply a place for hedonism or anything like that. I mean we’ve all been on heists in the past and probably will again in the future but I don’t come here just for that. I come here for the vibe and the fact that I’m going to bump into like minded people and we can have great conversations about films, music, books and whatever. It’s a cultural library for me, really.”

Like many others he’s had more than a few special nights in the basement.

“I think seeing Fat White Family is up there and David Holmes DJ’ing. Seeing Working Men’s Club with Heavenly boss Jeff Barrett in front of 10 people was, I think, definitely one of the best things I ever saw, you know? It was just a Tuesday night.”

Jeff Barrett is a name which pops up regularly. The Heavenly Recordings founder has played a pivotal role in the musical careers of numerous bands and DJ’s and his willingness to take folk under his wing and take a chance on people is very much reflected in the nature of The Social as a space.

Sean Johnston is known as being a figurehead behind A Love From Outer Space, the longstanding party he ran alongside Andrew Weatherall, who is honoured through a motif next to the doorway to the venue. Sean has a storied, personal relationship with the space.

“I moved to London in 1988 and I became a booking agent and I got to know Jeff Barrett. I was 20 or 21 at the time, full of piss and vinegar. I didn’t know fuck all about anything but Jeff could see that I was just a mental music fan. He tucked me under his wing and introduced me to a lot of people, Andrew Weatherall included. I would never have met Andrew if it wasn’t for Jeff.

We always hung out wherever Jeff was or wherever the Heavenly Crew was. You knew if they were there, you were at the right place.

The first thing that I knew about The Social was when an envelope arrived at my office with a small medallion, which believe it or not, twenty five odd years later, is still on my keyring.

Jeff rang me and said ‘did you get it?’

I went ’yeah, I got it, what the fuck’s going on?’

He said ‘we’re opening a bar.’

After that I think I was probably in here every other night of the week and every Friday night.”

What is remarkable about The Social is, as I say, the longevity. It’s very rare for a collective group of people to build such a longstanding affinity with a venue and for a venue to retain the same sensibilities of the past as in the present. The world has changed a hell of a lot since the summer of 1999 yet through a uniquely odd set of circumstances the principles, identity and rationality behind the space seems as relevant in the present as it does back then.

This is something which Sean is keen to reflect upon.

“This was the place where you’d meet your friends and it’s been a pivotal part of my adult life in London. A touchstone. Everything changes but the one thing that remains is The Social and what it stands for, thank fuck it’s still here. It’s authentic, a safe place. At a time when so many different venues in London have come and gone it still feels like home.

You couldn’t put a value on it and that’s because the people that are behind it love what they’re doing and they believe in what they’re doing.”

As the conversation comes to a close with Sean he reflects on the nature of the change and the fact that there have been too many good spaces and venues lost to the test of time – muttering something about “tory cunts”.

However, this in itself does raise a rather valid question as to the sheer feasibility of a venue such as The Social in this day and age.

At a time when every second shop sells American candy and the cost of a cocktail at Slug & Lettuce will set you back a small fortune, how has a venue like this managed to survive and what does that say about the ethos behind the establishment?

Harry Sword is a journalist and writer who has penned several books and articles on the nature of subcultures, music and beyond. He is also a frequent patron of The Social and is keen to explore the draw of the venue which he feels is rooted in nostalgia and history.

“First of all it doesn’t really feel like a bar. It’s a kind of local which I really like but it also feels like the epicentre for a certain kind of bohemianism which has been lost.”

He makes it clear to point out that he doesn’t imply this in a “wanky” way.

“I think in a lot of places, particularly where we are now on the boundary of Soho, have become quite sanitised. I find The Social is quite unique in the sense that I feel like anyone can walk in through the door and end up sparking a conversation with someone. It’s a very egalitarian vibe in that sense, there’s no division here whatsoever. There’s no barrier, no VIP area.”

Harry’s connection to the venue is also unique in the sense that he resonates with the space due to the fact that it dabbles and dances between a broad degree of creative sectors which don’t always communicate or connect with one another in a typical sense. Literature and music being his principle of interest.

“All of these worlds are massively intertwined. Take this evening for example, we’re here for the Richard Norris book launch, Richard was an original kind of Acid House guy. Justin Robertson’s over there, Sean Johnston’s down there.

There’s always people around who straddle both worlds. It’s funny, when it comes to music and books people from one world always want to be in the other, it’s natural. This is a happy place where they intertwine.”

The eclectic variety of the patrons and the people behind the venue certainly lend a hand to its chaotic, creative identity. Not to mention that they know how to party.

Over the years there have been many fabled stories and tales told about wild nights, chaotic DJ sets, mash up gigs and reckless hedonism which has left more than a few sore heads the morning after. Fatboy Slim once prepared himself for a set in the basement whilst organising his records in the bogs – this was before the green room, back when things were ‘proper’.

Chris Camm and Jonny Dropjaw are old friends who have used The Social as a clubhouse and a hangout for twenty five years.

“It’s more of a community than people realise. There’s a massive bond between all of us – from the bouncers to the bar staff. It’s a place you can get lost in, a real kind of ‘have fun’ place which isn’t always ‘ideal’ but it does work. It’s the last venue of its type and a testament to their passion and love that they’ve managed to keep it going and that people have supported it for so long.

Many times it’s been tough, really tough but they’ve made it work. There was a fundraiser at a point a few years back and it was incredible to see how much money that was raised but it keeps going because it is the best cultural hub for people of our ilk. The sad thing is there should be lots of places like it.”

The pair aren’t wrong. Things haven’t been easy. Far from it.

In 2019 the venue was at risk of closure. It was about as close to game over as it gets with the team being forced to launch a Crowdfunder campaign in the hope of keeping the doors open and the lights on.

The space was to be sold to the highest bidder which led to the team being required to raise £95,000 in order to take it off the market and secure a stake in the lease giving them a share of the business.

At this point donations began to trickle in from far and wide with a number of publications, record labels, artists, punters and beyond expressing their gratitude and faith in the future of the space with The Social hitting its target in just eight days.

Apparently there’s enough creative misfits who believe in the ethos which The Social upholds.

Carl Gosling is the lead booker behind the space. He has helped establish a clear identity and vision for the future of the venue ensuring continuity and progression whilst retaining the same principles and values which make it what it is. This progression is also a reflection of his own maturity and character development.

“I suppose it makes sense to me to have a chaotic programme of stuff as my tastes and interests have changed so much since I first moved to London. I was pretty much only interested in jungle before working in the Heavenly office with Jeff and Danny. It was a case of being exposed to different kinds of music and then being able to put those things on.

But, to be honest, I realised there were always lots of people approaching us to do things at The Social from a very wide variety of backgrounds. Musically, people were coming at it from all angles and I was open to that.

It has always been a core part of the aesthetic I suppose. The sort of defining feature of the early club nights was that kind of anything goes attitude. It feels right to kind of encapsulate it at a venue in central London. Over the years I think it’s become even more like that though, as time has gone on – although perhaps slightly more meaningfully. I always like to think of it as a little art centre, the kind of place I grew up around.”

He goes on to discuss the creative nuances of the space.

“On a very sort of practical level, making sure we support a number of different cultural avenues allows for us to book six nights a week. So you know, we have our book events, we have book launches, we have live music three or four times a week and then the club stuff happens. Sometimes it all happens in one night.”

This haphazard, slightly scattergun approach might be enough to scare the life out of your standard events programmer. However, it is this in and of itself that has become appealing to a certain type of customer or clientele who relish in the fact that they might discover something unexpected at any time.

Lily Weinbrand is involved in marketing the venue and its esoteric offerings. She dissects the relationship between the programming and the type of person who might call the venue home.

“We don’t put anything in a box and you can see and hear anything. Whether it’s Pete Fowler playing odd disco or crazy drum ‘n’ bass downstairs. What makes it most interesting is that there’ll be times when we put on indie bands followed by hardcore techno and people will stay for it all.

The mixture of ages is also really unique. I’d never imagined socialising with such a broad age range and I remember some of my other friends being surprised by the fact that I was hanging out with people in their fifties. I think it’s opened a lot of doors for me personally, not just from the perspective of having fun but in terms of networking and in meeting a lot of really cool people.”

Speaking of cool people Graeme joins us midway through our conversation; he’s the bar manager and like Lily offers an interesting take as to the type of punter or person who makes sense within the four walls.

“Everyone can come to The Social, everyone really. Everyone who has a clue, or at least somewhat of a clue about music can come here and enjoy themselves. To be honest, generally people who don’t have any interest in music can come here and enjoy themselves too. But there are certainly times when people walk through the front door and you can see them thinking ‘well, what the hell is going on in here then?’

It’s also nice when tourists pop in, people from Berlin or somewhere like that who’ve done their research. There’s been random nights midweek where twenty odd folk will pop in and it’s just one of us playing records behind the bar. They’ve found us online and they’re in here having a great time with us having a chat.

Then there’s the regulars. People are regulars for so many different reasons. And the staff.

It’s funny the number of staff who’ve said to me that they are finishing up or leaving and I’ll explain that I need to take them off the books and they’ll ask me not to take them off because they don’t really want to leave. I have more staff on the books than I have staff who actually work here.

What’s more, none of this is ever in a cliquey way, there isn’t any room for pretension.”

Harry is one of those former staff very much still on the books. He speaks freely about the sense of purpose and place that the venue has afforded him – his honesty and connection to the venue is as authentic personally as it is professional.

“When I first moved to London, The Social was the first place that I gravitated towards. It really felt like a scene and it was somewhere where I felt accepted. It’s in the people that come here really, obviously there’s music and cultural tastes but for me it’s so much more than that, it’s beyond that.”

He laughs as he looks toward Graeme.

“It’s not that The Social is better, it’s just that everywhere else is a bit worse.

It’s my friendship group and it’s a big part of my life. It’s lasted twenty five years and it’s not changed since I first came here. It has in subtle ways, it ebbs and flows and fashions move around it, yet it’s always had the courage and conviction to know what it does well and to keep doing that.”

There’s a few knowing glances exchanged as if Harry’s just emphasised something which sometimes goes unsaid.

The Social really has become a hub and a home to those who have built friendships here, worked here, danced here and done just about everything else in between its four walls. That sort of loyalty, attachment and longevity is unique and hard to find in the present day, let alone in central London.

There’s a real sense of connection and value placed on each patron’s participation – be it serving a drink, designing a poster, meeting a friend or sharing a moment in the smoky basement. And whilst nothing lasts forever, there is a sense that what exists here always will, in whatever shape and form those who will for it and believe for it to do so.