The sign is gone but the spirit lives on: outside the site of the 12 Bar club on Denmark Street, closed ahead of commercial redevelopment but now occupied by squatters
2014 was the year of culture shock – a time that left us reeling as, week after week, venue after venue on the map of independent London culture was consigned to the trash-heap.
A backdrop of swingeing austerity cutbacks and rapacious commercial property development left many of us feeling dazed, perhaps even in despair. It was awful, but what could be done?
Now there might be an answer. 2015 is shaping up to be the year of the fightback – a time of people standing up, saying enough is enough, and doing something about it. We’re mad as hell, and we’re not going to take it anymore.
The Christmas miracle of the E15 mums’ victory in saving the New Era council estate was a turning point. It showed that when people come together in a just cause, develop a robust plan of action, and commit to the hard slog necessary to see it through, they can secure the right result even against powerful opponents.
I think that victory helped remind us that commercial redevelopment of our city’s spaces is not a totally foregone conclusion – and those pushing it do not, in fact, hold all the cards.
Then came the widespread scorn poured on the American Psycho-style promotional video for Redrow’s luxury-flat development. The mockery might seem trivial compared to saving people’s homes but it stemmed from widespread revulsion at the ideology underpinning such schemes.
And a significant psychological shift takes place when you acknowledge that your opponent isn’t simply a terrifying brute but is also absurd. Laughter spreads – and as it spreads, it emboldens. That’s why dictators fear satire so much.
And this week, something massive happened. Yet another iconic independent cultural venue was emptied in the name of redevelopment – but people moved right back in and kept its flame alive.
Denmark Street – London’s Tin Pan Alley – has been scheduled for demolition to make way for what might be the capital’s most blatantly techno-dystopian development yet.
The St Giles Circus plan is straight from the Blade Runner/Minority Report school of urban design, incorporating an ‘OuterNet‘ video-wall area that promises “quick, convenient and technology-driven” leisure activities characterised by “meaningful brand engagement” (a contradiction in terms?). It’s all housed in another ‘landmark’ building indistinguishable from every other glass-and-steel box popping up around town.
One of the existing sites on the chopping block was the 12 Bar, a venerable live music venue that has arguably seen better days but has an amazing history and remained a rare central London site of non-corporate culture and artistic experimentation. It shut up shop for the last time earlier this week but was promptly reoccupied by a group called Bohemians4Soho, otherwise known as Our Bohemia or Barnet Bohemians.
Inside the former 12 Bar on Denmark Street
Their manifesto, posted outside the venue and online, declares them to be (I quote directly) “a collective of Artists, activists and campaigners who are willing to become Cultural Heritage Wardens, in order to prevent the disollusion of culture from Our history… we will have free space for groups, artists, muscians, campaigns and activists to run workshops, play gigs, performances, hold meetings, open mic events. we also intend to have a free shop and free kitchen. We want this to be a space for everyone, please get in touch to be involved or just come down”.
The building’s owners, Consolidated Developments, are pursuing legal action to evict Bohemians4Soho.
The group has already held squatters’ workshops and organised an open mic night last night (Friday January 23), which I went along to check out.
The club’s sign has been removed but its windows are full of calls to action, agitprop posters and cartoons (including a nice one of Boris carving up London). Inside, a few dozen people were hanging out, some organising the music, some chatting, some writing. Handmade posters read ‘We Can’t Take Any More’ and ‘Apocalypse Soon’. There was smoke and laughter. A fire alarm went off for a few minutes. A girl played a cow bell.
People interviewed each other on camera about the venue’s importance and the changes to the city. A photo opp was called in front of the bar. Then the open mic started – there were covers, original songs, Bob Dylan’s Masters of War, a number called Vegan Leather Jackets and DMs. It was fun.
I got chatting to a charity worker who had been to lots of gigs at the 12 Bar and, like me, had seen the open mic night mentioned on Facebook and came out of curiosity. She was alarmed by the rapid disappearance of independent cultural venues in Soho and the West End.
“I just walked past the shiny new Tottenham Court Road station,” she said. “All this Crossrail development – they keep going on about improved transport links. But transport to what? There’s not going to be anything to come to.”
Beyond having had a good couple of hours, I can’t vouch for the group per se. But I think it’s hugely encouraging that more people are resisting profit-oriented redevelopment in the spirit of culture and community, that an iconic independent cultural venue is not just being snuffed out, and that others are taking notice. The Guardian’s post about the occupation instantly became the most-read article on the Society section of the paper’s website.
There are other such developments too: The Joiners Lives On, for instance, aims to create a vibrant, cooperative community space from the ashes of The Joiners Arms, the LGBT pub recently forced to close its doors.
This is further evidence of more concerted opposition to the redevelopment that’s wrecking London.
And there’s no time to waste. A few blocks away from Denmark Street, The Yard, the gay bar opposite the spot where Madame Jojo’s used to stand before its own closure, has just found out it’s the latest spot targeted for redevelopment. Similar stories continue to emerge across the capital.
Being at the 12 Bar last night wasn’t a “quick, convenient and technology-driven” experience. It was a bit slow, a bit ramshackle, a bit lo-fi. But it was human and heartfelt and meaningful in the extreme.
That’s the kind of culture commercial property redevelopment kills. That’s why we need to make links, share information and skills, and be proactive in defence of the places we love.
And that’s why 2015 must truly be the year we fight back.
For more info about the 12 Bar occupation, check out @ourbohemia or #Bohemians4Soho on Twitter or go to the meeting they have called at the 12 Bar at 7pm on Monday January 26.
For more from me on this subject, see my posts Death by Luxury and Time to fight back: six ways to defend London culture from property development.
Inside the former 12 Bar on Denmark Street
