{"id":31111,"date":"2026-05-07T21:17:34","date_gmt":"2026-05-07T21:17:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/britain\/31111\/"},"modified":"2026-05-07T21:17:34","modified_gmt":"2026-05-07T21:17:34","slug":"is-london-nightlife-so-back-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/britain\/31111\/","title":{"rendered":"Is London nightlife so back?"},"content":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s a little after 1am in February, and things have escalated. I had no intention of going to Lost<\/a>, London\u2019s most talked-about club of the last six months, but a convincing friend swayed my course. Other friends will be there, but I may never find them inside: my phone will be locked in a pouch on entry, as per the club\u2019s no-phones policy.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The door person holds out a card machine: \u00a330. Jesus, I think. But here I am, in W1, so I reluctantly pay and duck inside the vast building \u2013 formerly an Odeon cinema \u2013 and begin to navigate the endless dark, labyrinthine corridors that give Lost its name. The security is hands-off, the music intoxicating. I stay until 5am, the gift of Lost\u2019s late license.<\/p>\n

Lost has continued its run on Shaftesbury Avenue, despite rumours it was closing after New Year\u2019s Eve (new rumours suggest it will be closing its doors at the start of June). Over the months, I\u2019ve heard varied takes. There have been groans about the cost of getting in (but I can expense my entry now that I\u2019m writing this, right?) and the familiar disillusionment: \u201cIt was better in the beginning when it was more feral.\u201d Mostly, though, the response has been positive; Lost brings together London\u2019s fashion, music and club scenes under one roof, the unreleased lineups lowering preconceptions, the absence of phones and social media another big draw.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve become so used to one-room warehouses, because that\u2019s all we\u2019ve had access to,\u201d says Bambi<\/a>, one half of club night-cum-collective Opia<\/a>. \u201cLost is more curated \u2013 a night with story.\u201d Films like Gaspar No\u00e9\u2019s horror Climax play in the club\u2019s cinema rooms. An eclectic roster of authors, writers and poets read there as part of Soho Reading Series<\/a>. There have been karaoke nights, courtesy of Anthem Karaoke Club<\/a>.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"Pin<\/a>\"Lost\"Louis Yiannakou<\/p>\n

When I first went, Mark Ronson played a late 2000s-inspired set at what turned out to be a launch party for his book. In some ways, Lost feels like a time machine back to a more analogue era of clubbing, less about content, more about connection. \u201cIt lets a queer girl who\u2019s a club classic feel her oats,\u201d jokes Boludo<\/a>, the other half of Opia.<\/p>\n

To read the headlines is to be met with a disappointing story about UK club culture in 2026. Recent reports show that more than one in four<\/a> late-night venues have closed across the UK since 2020. The future of Rowan\u2019s in Finsbury Park is murky<\/a> thanks to a new housing development, cult venue Moth Club is under serious threat of closure<\/a>, and drag karaoke bar K-Hole recently closed its doors<\/a>.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Yet it seems that as soon as you hear of a venue closing, another door opens. Take Gaffe<\/a>, which recently relocated from Wandsworth to Tottenham; Club Cheek<\/a>, an independent live venue and club in Brixton, and the once-grotty Palais<\/a>, on the corner of Rye Lane, which recently returned after nearly 15 years of closure \u2013 less ketamine den, more cocktail bar this time around. Along with Lost, the proliferation of parties across the city has come to stand for something greater: intrigue, spontaneity, and optimism about London\u2019s nightlife. There are murmurs that London is \u201cso back\u201d.\u00a0<\/p>\n

People in London are going out to dance and sweat… they want to let loose their emotions from the week<\/p>\n

According to DJ Oluwa MP.4<\/a> \u2013 who, at 20, is already a familiar face in the city\u2019s queer scene \u2013 there\u2019s an almost overwhelming amount of choice. He moved back from Paris last year, where \u201cmost of the queer underground parties have been there a long time, whereas in London, there\u2019s always something novel or niche to go to.\u201d He namechecks trans-run parties Michelle\u2019s Party<\/a> and Arize<\/a>, the intimate 40-person gatherings when he plays at Reprezent radio, or illegal parties and squat raves.\u00a0\u201cI played at Riposte<\/a> the other day, and people were shakin\u2019 ass from the first set,\u201d he says, suggesting that the state of nightlife might be more than a numbers game. \u201cPeople in London are going out to dance and sweat, not chat or smoke a fag. They want to let loose their emotions from the week.\u201d<\/p>\n

The thought that London could be \u201cso back\u201d did not first occur to me at Lost, but at a smaller night at Ormside Projects in December. At The Landing Strip\u2019s<\/a> first edition, a pole was erected in the centre of the club under a single spotlight, and dancers improvised to a live set from Klein and one of Mica Levi\u2019s bands, Spresso. The night felt emblematic of the kind of experimentation \u2013 musically and atmospherically \u2013 happening in London right now, especially in the so-called \u201cBermondsey Triangle\u201d, home to Ormside, Venue MOT and Avalon Caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n

At MOT, new lesbian pop-up The Baroness<\/a> recently held its inaugural event, erecting a life-sized inflatable lesbian pub in a car park<\/a>. Around 250 people passed through. Co-founders Sel Elwen \u2013 who also started the night Switch Rising<\/a> \u2013 and Phia Bowden pulled friends in to work the makeshift bar. \u201cIt was kind of a comical thing,\u201d Sel says. \u201cI think the blow-up made people lighthearted \u2013 the mood was silly.\u201d But the idea behind Baroness is more serious: to create a lesbian space (for all ages) south of the river, which currently doesn\u2019t exist (the inflatable is a commentary on this fact).\u00a0<\/p>\n

If five to ten years ago, it felt like the queer scene in London was splintering along identity lines, the signs point to a resurgence of fluidity across the queer scene. Several of London\u2019s most popular queer raves \u2013\u00a0like Riposte<\/a>, Club Are<\/a> and Playbody<\/a> \u2013 are focusing on how you connect with others rather than how you identify. Oluwa agrees there has been a shift back towards concept rather than a strict demographic: \u201cIt\u2019s more mixed \u2013 although you generally know the vibe from who\u2019s running it or the line-up.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

This isn\u2019t limited to the queer scene. Wolf Gillespie<\/a> started cult club night Post Party to reflect how he and his friends actually listen to music: \u201cI think of it as a show, with music that doesn\u2019t go together and people that don\u2019t go together.\u201d You might find a drill artist, an indie band and electronic music on the same bill. Previous live acts include the Femcels<\/a>, rapper sinn6r<\/a>, and punk outfit Jeanie and The White Boys<\/a>. \u201cThere\u2019s an issue of isolation of groups, [it\u2019s like] a self-protective thing,\u201d he says, explaining why Post Party<\/a> deliberately brings together genres and subcultures. \u201cThere\u2019s strength in being with your people, but there\u2019s also something important about [coming together] when the world is getting scarier.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

At Adult Entertainment, poet and musician James Massiah names a similar impulse: line-ups are varied, there\u2019s no security, you come, sit on the floor, listen to readings. It\u2019s free and there\u2019s no hierarchy. In turn, he says, people feel respected and respect each other. At a recent event, 300 people packed into Dalston\u2019s Caf\u00e9 OTO to hear 30 readings over three hours. Who knew we had the attention spans?<\/p>\n

\u201cHedonism is important, but I think people are looking for something more intentional right now. I think we\u2019re entering an era that\u2019s less about losing yourself and more about finding yourself\u201d \u2013 James Massiah<\/p>\n

\u201cThe more you read about AI, it feels like a race to the bottom, the news feels closer than ever.\u201d In disconnected and divisive times, \u201cthe point of life is to have your people and share experiences, but also to develop and gain new insights, to be around people who haven\u2019t come to the same conclusions.\u201d Poetry and music are a nexus point, he says, pointing to nights and collectives like Minus Pink, O Performance, and Life Is Beautiful. All of these nights, like those above, are about more than escapism, more about discovering something new, connection, and presence.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cHedonism is important,\u201d says James, \u201cbut I think people are looking for something more intentional right now. I think we\u2019re entering an era that\u2019s less about losing yourself and more about finding yourself.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

Intentions are one thing, but access is another. According to statistics, 68 per cent of young people say that they have stopped going out so much as a result of the current economic climate. Venue owners are grappling with rising rents, spiralling overheads, and being pushed further and further out of the city. The website Is My Pub F*cked?<\/a> tracks how rising costs, particularly business rates, are threatening some of London\u2019s longest-standing pubs. These costs drip down to those trying to organise nights, as well as those of us attending.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople complain, including me,\u201d says Sel from Baroness, \u201cbut running nights myself, it\u2019s almost impossible to make tickets cheap if you want to pay everyone fairly. It\u2019s hard to put on a night because profit margins on drinks are crazy, which is why they\u2019re so expensive.\u201d Wolf feels similarly: \u201cI talk to friends in New York or LA and venues are actually giving them a budget for their event,\u201d he says. \u201cIn London, every venue wants loads of money up front; it doesn\u2019t help young people coming up. If the [cost] is a grand-plus, I don\u2019t even reply to the email. Who could pay that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Pin<\/a>\"Lost\"Louis Yiannakou<\/p>\n

When I ask the Opia girls how feasible it is to sustain a career in nightlife, there\u2019s a tumbleweed moment. They\u2019ve built an identity through their meta-ironic hosting style and collaborating with fashion brands. But while working with brands gets you paid \u2013 and dressed \u2013 it isn\u2019t necessarily sustainable. \u201cAfter brat summer we were on a high \u2013 like, literally high,\u201d laughs Boludo. \u201cBut then it went silent. Last year was the driest Pride season ever. What I will say is I don\u2019t think there\u2019s a way for raves to exist without some sort of external endeavour, whether that\u2019s merch, brand collabs, or [partnerships with] cultural institutions. You have to do something to live off.\u201d<\/p>\n

Last year, the London Mayor convened a Nightlife Taskforce: a group drawn from across the sector, aiming to tackle decreasing footfall and closures, as well as to democratise the conversation and move away from top-down policymaking. In February 2026, they published a report<\/a>, recommending the need for a shift towards a 24-hour city through later licences, transport, and late-night food options \u2013\u00a0especially as bars and clubs holding a 24-hour alcohol license have fallen by two-thirds in two years<\/a>. Relatedly, just under 70 per cent of young people feel as though better late-night transport options would encourage them to stay out later.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Dan Beaumont, who owns the longstanding queer venue Dalston Superstore, sees the report as a step in \u201cchanging of the dynamic between authority and nightlife, this infantilising relationship they have with us \u2013 it recognises nightlife as a cultural force.\u201d Deregulation, he notes, is often (and rightfully) framed as a Tory idea \u2013 but in the current climate, removing barriers to music and nightlife by improving licensing is one of the few levers left. A pan-London approach matters, he says, so owners and promoters aren\u2019t at the whim of local councils. But more important is the report\u2019s suggestion to create a Nightlife Future Fund, which would support innovative nightlife projects \u2013 especially those led by underrepresented communities, which could help sustain parties like those above.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t get a Mowa or a Fakemink without people partying\u201d \u2013 Wolf Gillespie<\/p>\n

While the report is currently just that \u2013\u00a0a report \u2013\u00a0its recommendation to move London towards a 24-hour city would not only boost the nightlife economy, but practically make things easier for people who work in nightlife, like Oluwa. \u201cI find it so annoying when parties start at 9pm and finish at 2 or 3am \u2013 how am I getting home? I\u2019m not about to pay \u00a330 to get around right now. I live in Croydon.\u201d<\/p>\n

On balance, nightlife is an optimistic place right now, says Beaumont. \u201cBut I think it\u2019s worth being cautious about the influx of private equity capital that\u2019s inflating bits of the nightlife economy and is creating a bubble. The grassroots aspect needs to be protected, because nightlife is where much of UK culture is born.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat I can do Post Party in different places says something: that people want to listen to our musicians, they\u2019re looking to British fashion and culture again, that the kids in these cities want to come to a London party,\u201d says Gillespie. \u201cYou don\u2019t get a Mowa or a Fakemink without people partying. The best moments at Post Party are when you know the person on stage is so talented, and there\u2019s a 100 per cent chance there\u2019s another one in the crowd too.\u201d<\/p>\n

As for Lost, maybe the hype existed precisely because it offers more than a dancefloor \u2013 performances, readings, screenings, and a phone ban to encourage presence. In 2026, it feels like London nightlife is reaching for something that feels spontaneous, eclectic, and grounded in human connection. But the same old challenges still exist. The name \u201cLost\u201d will soon take on a new irony when the current venue closes its doors and is redeveloped. A common story, when many of the capital\u2019s bigger clubs are now in buildings or on land owned by property developers, always intended to be temporary. By the time Lost reopens elsewhere, there may well be a new club everyone\u2019s talking about.<\/p>\n