Clubbers at Balance
© Dave Swindells
Music

Plastic People: Why the London club mattered

Photos from the nightlife institution that helped shape modern British clubbing
Written by Kate Hutchinson
4 min readPublished on
Plastic People, the long-running, highly influential nightclub that fostered many of the UK’s most celebrated dance scenes, has closed it doors. To mark the end of an era, we’re re-visiting the glory days by digging deep into its faithful fans' photo archives.
Check out the Gallery above to see Plastic People through the ages.
Got any photos of Plastic People from over the years? Tweet us @RedBullUK
When it comes to Shoreditch on a Friday and Saturday night, these days it’s usually only the stench of sick, wee and suffering that hangs heavy in the air. But last weekend it was thick with sadness, as ravers from with an appreciation of discerning electronic music pondered Plastic People’s abrupt farewell.
With a spate of London’s most loved nightlife institutions closing in recent years – The End in Holborn, Turnmills in Farringdon and Cable in London Bridge to name only three - the sudden news of PP’s closure caused all kinds of speculation as to what exactly has been going down in London’s club scene.
But unlike many of the other clubs falling prey to the logic of redevelopment, the truth is Plastic People’s closure has come on its own terms. Noise complaints that dogged the venue in 2010 and threatened its existence back then had long been smoothed over; this time, with a just few years left on the lease and faced with a very different Shoreditch than when it moved there 15 years ago, Plastic People shut its doors because, presumably, it was better to burn out than to fade away. In a statement, manager Charlotte Kepel said succinctly: "It felt right to move on".
Gone now, but unlikely to be forgotten, Plastic People’s dedication to the dancefloor throughout its 20-something years attracted a crowd that wanted to focus purely on the music, and it was on this sonic purism that its legendary reputation was built. In its pitch-black, boom-room setting, lit only by a small red light above the booth, you could hear 10 minutes of African drumming, followed by a spectral jazz record and then a weighty reggae dubplate – the kind of sets that encouraged heads-down introspection rather than a fratboy messfest.
Original Oxford Street venue

Original Oxford Street venue

© Sonja Timpson

Dave Swindells, photographer, journalist and Time Out London’s former nightlife editor, was one man carrying a rare flash bulb among the dimly lit euphoria. Reflecting on the photos you can see in the gallery above, he sums up the experience best when he says: “Ade [Fakile, Plastic People’s owner] always set out to create a club with an acoustically neutral sound system, so that dancing there really felt like being inside the speaker as the music played.”
“Plastic People was the archetypal nightclub,” says RBMA alumni and PP regular Emma Warren. “Mostly archetypes exist only in the imagination, but this one was real; a small, dark, basement nightclub with an incredible sound system run and peopled by music lovers.”
Skream and DJ Zinc

Skream and DJ Zinc

© Barclay Crossland-Taylor

As the home of legendary night FWD>>, where the UK bass scene – from garage and dubstep to house and grime – famously cut its teeth, Plastic People cradled many of the scenes that went on to define eras of UK music. The night Co-Op was the only regular party in London to push the then-nascent broken beat sound. Even London legend Erol Alkan’s indie disco Trash started life at Plastic People, at its original home on Oxford Street, where the DJ booth was made out of old washing machines.
On its final two nights last weekend – one a public party, one private – queues stretched endlessly down the street. On Friday, Four Tet, Caribou and Floating Points played marathon sets. On Saturday, meanwhile, the club’s first signature night Balance bowed out with Fakile, plus Radio1’s Benji B, RBMA’s Benny Blanco, Tony Nwachukwu, Sean McAuliffe and Paul Camo on the decks.
At present, Plastic People’s closure is final and the club doesn’t appear to have any plans to reopen on a different site. But its ideology of putting the music first will live on through the countless DJs, producers and punters who burst through its doors and had their eyes and ears firmly opened. Plastic People, we’re bass-facing in your honour.
Want to know more about forgotten dance scenes and the changing face of London’s musical landscape? Try these: