A love letter to the Brudenell Social Club
Not long after I moved to Leeds in the autumn of 2018, I found a second home in a social club sat among the red-bricked suburbs of the city. The formerly crimson carpets and glittering smoking area of the Brudenell suddenly served as the backdrop to every major and minor life event, each one of them served with a pint of Schoff, four Jägerbombs, or, in the case of a Mercury Prize win, a £12 bottle of wine. Birthday celebrations, leaving drinks, first dates, Euros losses, sold-out gigs, samosas from Abu Bakr, tipsy games of pool, and candlelit caterpillar cakes in the corner of the games room – the century-old pub has well and truly seen it all, but I’m not the only patron who feels an unusual sense of attachment to the Brudenell.
The entirety of the Leeds music scene congregates around the beloved social club-turned-venue. It brings together the post-punk kids, the bright-eyed Conservatoire freshers, the seasoned Wax-goers, the Radio 6 dads, the budding industry professionals, the hardcore fans and everyone in between, and it gives them all two gigs to choose from almost every evening. On any given night, you’ll find students, long-standing patrons, devout pool players, musicians and their fans lining the many bars of the Brudenell, eyeing up pints of Virtuous. The venue has become a microcosm of the music-loving community that exists around it, as well as a driving force in maintaining and emboldening it.
Of course, the Brudenell has always been a social venture – it’s in the name. The club began in the 1910s when the businessman behind the equally homely Hyde Park Picture House set out to create a billiards club in the area. “They opened and invested in the land, starting with the first wooden building at the top of the carpark of the Brudenell Social Club,” Nathan Clark tells me from a cosy corner of the pub’s hallowed gig room. “These wealthy businessmen wanted to set up a place that was for social mutual recreation, so they could set up and talk business and meet and socialise somewhere that wasn’t politically affiliated.”
“This was specifically set up as a social club with non-political ties,” he explains. “And it had a line in the first agenda about never having that, so it couldn’t be swayed either way politically. And that kind of has kept on until this day.” Fast-forward a couple of decades, and the core ethos of the venue might not have changed, but its purpose had certainly expanded. Business meetings turned into gigs when Clark’s parents took over the place in the early 1990s, with Nathan’s father putting his own money into the Brudenell to stop it from going into liquidation. Soon, the social club would become one of the most iconic venues in the country.
“That’s how we came to running it,” Clark continues. “So I was growing up here as a teenager, seeing people from the Leeds DIY scene come in and put on shows. The place was very open. There was a lot of changing people’s perceptions in the area, not only about, ‘What’s that noise through there?’ but, at the same time, about what people looked like. In this area, you’ve got a melting pot cultural crossover mashup. If you’re stood in Sainsbury’s around the corner, you’ll see somebody walk in with blue hair, piercings, in their dressing gown, and slippers, you’re not going to question that, right? That’s just Hyde Park.”
Clarke added: “That’s happened over the last 20 to 30 years in this area. It isn’t the norm. And that’s because of the population of this area and what they’ve done. Look, say, between the Harolds and towards Little London, Woodhouse and Headingley. Gang of Four, the Mekons, Delta 5, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, the Mission, the goth scene, fashion. People who’ve influenced culture, who’ve come to Leeds for university or grown up in the city, have moved into Hyde Park. And their formative years of culture and art and music have all come out of this very small square mile area.”
Nath and assistant promoter Sammy Robinson continue to throw out some impressive names with ties to Hyde Park, including Lancashire-via-Leeds outfit Chumbawumba, post-hardcore legend Henry Rollins, and synth-pop saviour Marc Almond. Each of them, at some point, chose to make their home in the nearby suburbs of Leeds to find artistic inspiration in the area and, more than likely, to drop into the Brudenell for a pint.
“When The Clash chose to play their rock against racism gig,” Nathan tells me, “It was in the backfield of the Royal Park. There are lots of connections between fashion, art, music and culture that come from this small area, and the Brudenell’s kind of situated in the middle of it.” When Clark’s parents took over the venue, they decided to open their doors up to every member of every subculture that existed in the surrounding areas, resisting pigeonholing into any one genre.
Decades later, the Brudenell is a venue that still resists classification, as Clark and co continue to drive the open, community-focused legacy of the venue. Comedy acts, tribute bands, local artists and more established names take turns co-habiting the shimmering community stage and the renowned main room, each and every one of them drawing that dependable Brudenell crowd. And now, with the growth of the promotions branch Brudenell Presents, the shows spill beyond the length of Queen’s Road into other local venues like Hyde Park Book Club and Leeds Irish Centre.
The venue has also extended its community work beyond the realm of venues into local ventures such as the redevelopment of the park over the road. “We’ve been a catalyst and a driving force in the neighbourhood forum,” Clark notes. “We’ve taken that on as our project and pushed it when the council didn’t really want to take it on.” To Clark, the Brudenell is far more than a drinking spot, a place to play pool and eat a pie, or even a celebrated venue.
“We see the place not as a building,” he elaborates, “Not as a space where a gig happens or where people come and drink. It’s got a community behind it and a connection to the area. It isn’t just here to sell alcohol or put on a band; it’s got some actual roots with it.” Those roots were planted with the inception of the venue as a social venture, with the work of Clark’s parents to open up the space to local music, and with Nath’s ongoing work, but they’re also kept in place by the people who keep the Brudenell running, those behind the bar and those in front of it.
There’s a sense that the Brudenell doesn’t just belong to Nath but to everyone who has ever served or sank a pint on those wooden bar tops. “People who have come in here have still got long affinities with the place,” Clark claims. “That doesn’t necessarily happen with many other buildings, public houses, hospitality places or music venues in the same way. The people coming here have still got a bit of a feeling that it’s theirs, a kind of ownership.”
That feeling extends beyond the warmth of the packed smoking area or a swiftly drunk pint. The Brudenell intentionally looks after the community that surrounds it, from performers to patrons. The main room was purpose-built for performance back in 1979, employing a fan shape that ensures audiences are all at an equal distance from the stage, and Clark takes every opportunity he can to reinvest in the space to make it a place where bands will always want to play, and fans will always come to watch.
“I’d rather buy a better monitor, or a better lighting desk, or pay engineers a little more than buy a cool table or something,” Clark shares. “I believe that if someone’s comfortable on stage and has that connection, it’s going to reflect in a good performance and the audience having a better time. For me, that’s the thing that should come first, the artist experience.” This conscious effort has bred a real sense of loyalty to the Brudenell, not just from locals but from touring bands, too.
“If you look at the listings from 20, 15 years ago,” Robinson chips in, “There was half the amount of shows happening, but a lot of them were still bands that we work with now. The Osees playing their first show in the UK or The Cribs.” Huge names like Joanna Newsom, Bright Eyes and Warren Ellis’ Dirty Three have all taken to the stage at the Brudenell, each of them forging their own connection to the beloved venue. The Cribs, in particular, have a close connection with the Brudenell, with Clark allowing them to use the space for practice sessions between tours.
“When people come back, they remember it,” Clark asserts, “They remember us or certain things. There’s a long chequered history there. A lot of the time, it’s not necessarily just the artist that’s coming through. It’s the manager, the crew, who have been here a couple of times and keep in touch.” And as those bands become more established and keep returning to the Brudenell, they provide new opportunities for up-and-coming bands to share the spotlight with them.
“We are always trying to support local bands,” Robinson affirms. “If you’re a venue in the North of England or a music company in the North of England, you always want to help your local scene become as successful as possible. We will always, where possible, try to push artists to have local supports on their shows, so that we can put those bands in front of people.”
It’s a system that works, and has been instrumental in the rise of a number of recent Leeds bands. Take Adult DVD, who have played the venue in various different bands throughout the years and recently delivered a sold-out show in the community room, or Gladboy, who made the decision to move to Leeds after a show at the Brudenell.
Beyond support slots, though, the social club harvests talent behind the bar, in the office, and around pool tables. Clark describes the place as a “social and professional incubator,” where bands form over pints of Guinness and bar staff are given the space to go off on tour at will or even to use the space for their own projects. They cite Green Gardens bassist and vocalist Jacob Cracknell as an example, who has doubled as both bar staff and box office at the Brudenell.
“When Green Gardens wanted to record some piano for their album, they came here,” Robinson explains, “They set up in our community room and used the Brudenell house piano, used some mics and just recorded in the Brudenell for the day. We had their album launch here, too. People from local bands enjoy being here just generally, whether that’s watching bands or having a beer or playing pool or whatever.”
Leeds-based art-rockers English Teacher are one of the finest examples of a band who have turned that penchant for pool and pints into something greater. The band adopted West Yorkshire as their home when they came to the city for uni, and they, too, soon found a second home at the Brudenell. “I’ve always been a pub person,” vocalist Lily Fontaine shares, “I started singing in pubs when I was 14, so the value of a community hub with decent pints, decent pool and decent live music has always been known to me.”
“The space attracts people because it does these three things incredibly well,” she continues, “Especially for live music. Both rooms have especially good sound treatment and local engineers to suit.” But for Fontaine, like so many other musicians, the Brudenell is much more than a great gig venue. It’s a space for community and creativity. “Creatives don’t usually have money,” she acknowledges, “But creativity relies on socialisation, and the combination of the affordability with a space that fosters creativity probably explains why it’s become a bit of a generic place to hang out if your interests wander into the arts.”
“The scenes that have started and evolved over the past few decades in Leeds owe a lot to this venue,” she asserts, English Teacher included. Clark was instrumental in the band’s recent rise to acclaim, culminating in a ‘Thank you’ during their Mercury Prize win earlier this year. “I know Nath personally voted for us to get some funding that enabled us to get signed,” Fontaine acknowledges, “So I have that to thank him for, but it’s more than that.”
“It’s the weekend crowd surfing to bands that inspired my music and the midweek pool that inspired conversations that led to developing bands that I’m really appreciative for,” Fontaine concludes. It’s an experience that is shared by so many members of the Leeds music community, and, for Clark, those individual stories, friendships formed and career steps taken are the greatest successes of the Brudenell.
“Seeing someone like Tom,” he adds, “Who worked behind our bar, go out and buy a camera, start shooting bands here, go on to be an NME photo editor and now Canon Product Manager worldwide. If he hadn’t worked behind the bar, and we hadn’t gone, ‘Go and take some photos while it’s a bit quiet, while the band’s on,’ would he have ever been on that trajectory? I think there’s a lot more things like that that have happened that wouldn’t necessarily happen in other places.”
“We understand that it’s an opportunity to go and do those things,” he explains, “That’s kind of what we want to foster, a social environment that’s accepting for people. It’s not about being on stage, either. Other people have got skills that are different. And we understand that it’s a handshake position. It’s a give-and-take.” Fortunately, the patrons of the Brudenell are more than happy to give.
The plight of the independent venue has been widely discussed over the last few years, as more and more small spaces begin to close their doors, but the Brudenell stands as an example of why community venues are so important, as well as how a loyal base can help them to thrive. Brudenell-goers don’t just head down to the venue when their favourite band is playing. They go down to support local shows, they pop by for a catch-up over a pie, they drop in for band meetings or even drag their laptop down for an albeit unproductive work session.
It’s this kind of engagement with a venue that can make all the difference. “People sometimes think that supporting a venue is just maybe going to a show here and there,” Robinson acknowledges, “But I think it’s everything. Down to being there in the daytime, having a cup of tea, which realistically costs a quid or two, and just doing your work from there. Maybe after that, your friends come and join you, and you’re all having a drink there.”
“You’ve got to feel a connection to that in the first place to do that,” Nath adds, “But I don’t think there is a one-size-fits-all answer. It’s about recognising and identifying the strengths that you have and sticking to them, and realising you can’t do everything. Our strength is allowing people to stick around and talk to the bands. There’s times where people have met their icons because someone’s been loading out later and they haven’t been kicked out by security because the room’s finished. Identify the things that suit the venue well and do them well.”
The chance to chat with your favourite artist in the back of the gig room isn’t the only reason people keep coming back to the Brudenell. It’s the huge range of shows they put on, somehow catering for everyone in the city, it’s the creation of communities behind the scenes, it’s the familiarity of the shimmering smoking area and the busy bar, it’s the feeling of belonging. “There’s a little something for everyone here,” Robinson explains, “You can come on a Friday night, and the pool room has 200 students in there, there’s people at the quiz machine, people watching the Leeds match, and then you’ve got two completely different gigs happening at the same time.”
“The strength of a venue isn’t necessarily in what you can do with it,” Clark declares. “You realise your strengths, then build up a community. We got a really cool letter from somebody who is autistic, who came to a gig and talked about how they felt at home and welcomed here. There’s no barriers. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you look like, what you enjoy. There isn’t a uniform. When people talk to me about diversity, I say, ‘Come and look in here at the true diversity.’ It crosses over from people who are real working class, who are having their after-work pint, to students who come from very wealthy backgrounds and come to drink here, to people who are in alternative subcultures.”
With listings just as diverse as its customer base, the Brudenell has more than earned its place at the heart of Leeds’ music community, as well as its position as one of the most well-respected and well-loved independent venues in the country. But to those of us who inhabit the surrounding suburbs, those of us who spend our nights sinking Schöfferhofers in the corner of the main room, who beam with pride while watching friends support their favourite bands on to that all too familiar stage, the impact of the Brudenell is much more intimate than its hefty and ever-increasing legacy.
Whether you’ve lived in Leeds your whole life, moved to the city for university, to pursue a music career, or just dropped into the venue to see what all the fuss is about, the Brudenell makes space for you. It’s the principle that the place was founded on, filling kegs full of community and listings full of local bands, and it’s one that Leeds residents will always treasure and take pride in. The music and the mates will last forever.
