Fabric for sale

Today it was announced that Fabric is up for sale.

The Farringdon club, which recently celebrated its 10th birthday, has gone in to administration following the closure of its sister venue, Matter.

This isn't the first time the club has gone into administration, and when that news broke a few days ago I had hopes that it would once again manage to get back on its feet. However, administrators have now instructed the club's agents to find a buyer.

The announcement claimed that a number of potential purchsers have already expressed an interest, which means that hopefully the venue will continue to operate as a club. However, the beauty of Fabric lay in its underground ethos, staunchly championed by its founders Keith Reilly and Cameron Leslie. Who knows in what direction the new owners, if any, will take it.

I used to consider Holborn venue The End, co-owned by Layo and Mr C, as one of London's best clubs. When I revisited it under its new incarnation The Den, I realised that a successful club is so much more than the space.

The Den is now, to be honest, a shit venue - which is a massive shame. You walk in there and scruffy sofas take up half the dancefloor, making it look like a student bar. The toilets are drenched with the puke-inducing waft of too much incense, burned to mask the smell of wee. The new owners don't love it like the last, and you can tell.

Let's hope Fabric doesn't go the same way.

The warehouse rave is not dead

Regular visitors will notice the blog's been quiet in the last few days. The reason is a four-day party marathon in God's own city. Since then I've been a broken woman, but it was utterly worth it. Let's just hope I recover in time for Bloc this weekend (which has now sold out, by the way).

One of the events I rocked up at was a blast from the past. Having battled the wankers of Shoreditch at uber trendy Dragon Bar for half of Saturday night, it was time to bid goodbye to asymmetrical haircuts, skinny jeans and retro beats, and get my proper rave on.

I hadn't had a 'secret party line' text message in a while, so I followed the trail to a warehouse in Edmonton. There are lots of warehouse parties cropping up all over London, particularly in the east, in areas like Dalston. But take these with a pinch of salt - they're merely ticking the cool box by walking the walk, yet most of them are in fact licensed, legal events, albeit in temporary spaces. Not in Edmonton.

My first pointer was to 'follow the music'. Easy - we could hear it from half a mile away. Not a problem, as the venue was suitably out of reach in a vast industrial estate. Climbing through a fence (of course) we made our way into a huge hangar - and I mean fucking massive.

The first sign of a squat rave is the stench of piss (legal venues have proper toilets. This place had a pitch black cess pit. In fact it was so bad, it was better to just find a dark corner of the hangar.) The next two things you're guaranteed to see are people passed flat-out on the dancefloor (tick) and dogs running around (tick). But these things are all part of the charm, and having been a regular to squat raves in both London and Leeds in the early noughties, it felt like I was reliving the good old days.

The set-up was three large sound systems in the centre of the room, all facing outwards. There were around 1,000 people there, in various states, but generally a good vibe. The music ranged from gabber (dear Lord, forgive them) to dub and reggae (brap) to dubstep, breaks and jungle (hubba hubba).

The best part was discovering some old faces playing on one of the systems. This was truly a Leeds revival, as the High Pressure crew had made it down with their awesome record collection in tow. Happy days.

What struck me was the number of Spanish people there. This happened at Fabric a few weeks ago, too. It would seem they're Europe's top raving machines. I like this, and am now hatching plans for a rave tour of Spain.

We stayed at the warehouse until well into the morning. As we left, I spotted a police car parked around the corner, but there wasn't any hassle. You've got to love London. Since the eighties, we've known how to put on an awesome rave, anywhere. And there certainly ain't no stoppin' us.

PS... There's a blinding (legal) warehouse party coming up on Thursday 1 April. Head to Layo (former owner of The End) and Bushwacka's bi-monthly ShakeIt party at - tadah! - The Warehouse to catch the incredible Carl Cox in action. It's his first London gig of the year, and is set to be rammo-jammo. Click here for info.