Rob Davies 

‘It’s not just a dancefloor’: the precipitous decline of UK nightclubs

A cocktail of Covid-19 and the cost-of-living crisis has left larger ‘chrome and carpet’ venues high and dry as struggling chains look to party bars
  
  

Empty nightclub dancefloor
Declining numbers of young people are going to nightclubs amid the cost of living crisis. Photograph: Robert Clayton/Alamy

When the patrons of Watford’s Pryzm nightclub celebrated New Year’s Eve on 31 December 2023, they were marking the end of an era, or rather, the end of seven eras. Like every beloved local club, the venue had been known by multiple names over the years: Top Rank, Bailey’s, Paradise Lost, Kudos, Destiny and Oceana.

Now, it will be reincarnated no more, after failing to reach a deal with its landlord.

One TikTok user posted a video of herself sketching an intricate iPad picture in tribute to the venue, where she had met her boyfriend. She signed it with an “RIP” and a broken heart emoji.

Matt Turmaine, the Labour MP for Watford, used to go dancing there in his younger days, when double-breasted jackets and smart shoes were the fashion. “It’s part of that cultural makeup, where you look back, maybe cringing a bit,” he said, speculating that many of his constituents will have had their “first snog” on its dancefloor.

Anyone planning on hitting their own favourite club during the festive break should enjoy the opportunity while they can. Where Watford has been, the rest of the country may soon follow.

Britain’s nightclub industry is in trouble as a result of a powerful cocktail of cultural, economic and legislative factors that leading clubland figures say must be addressed before it’s too late.

The decline has been precipitous.

In 2013, the UK had 1,700 nightclubs. By June 2024 there were fewer than half as many, just 787, according to figures from the analysts CGA by NIQ and AlixPartners, before a slight resurgence in recent months.

The Covid-19 pandemic, which effectively shut down the industry for months on end, sped up the pace of decline, putting paid to more than a third of Britain’s clubs, the Night Time Industries Association (NTIA) has said.

If the pace of recent decline continues, the NTIA warned, the lights will go up in the small hours of New Year’s Day 2030, revealing the dilated pupils of Britain’s last ever clubbers.

Of course, the NTIA’s warning isn’t a concrete prediction that there will be no clubs at all five years from now. Rather, it is a klaxon, meant to alert the government and the public to the ominous direction of travel.

Watford Pryzm was one of 17 venues that closed in early 2024, with the collapse into administration of Britain’s biggest nightclub company, Rekom UK.

Casualties included six Pryzms and four clubs under the Atik brand. Closures hit towns and cities as far apart as Plymouth, Leeds, Coventry, Portsmouth and Nottingham.

The demise of Oldham’s Liquid and Envy meant the town briefly said goodbye to its last remaining major nightclub – although the venue has since reopened under different ownership. With the closure of Unit 7 in Basildon, the chance to get a free bubblegum shot for wearing pink faded into fond memory.

Rekom’s woes are a proxy for the woes of the broader sector. Before Covid, the business was known as Deltic, operating 52 bars and clubs and turning regular annual profits.

When the pandemic plunged the company into administration in late 2020, its underlying model remained attractive. The Scandinavian nightlife group Rekom batted its lashes at the company from across the dancefloor and soon made its move, with a rescue deal.

The reopening of the night-time economy delivered brief respite, only to be followed by the cost-of-living crisis that hammered the company’s young clientele.

The result was the closure earlier this year of nearly half of Rekom UK’s venues, amid a new administration process that saw the division unwind its marriage to its parent company and rebrand as Neos Hospitality, under the ownership of a Danish family.

Russell Quelch, the chief executive of Neos, is focusing on shifting the business model away from larger clubbing venues towards “party bars”, investing in brands such as Bonnie Rogue’s Pub and the apres-ski themed Barbara’s Bier Haus.

“We’re investing in the bar sector because that’s where the growth is,” he said. “What people want out of a night out has changed, and the world’s moving at a pace that you constantly need to have your finger on the pulse.”

Sacha Lord, the night-time economy adviser to Greater Manchester’s mayor, Andy Burnham, agrees. “The places that are really suffering are what I’d call the ‘chrome and carpet’ clubs, the big 1500-capacity venues that have pretty much had their day,” he said. “They haven’t kept with the times. Sadly they’re closing and I think we’ll see a lot more.”

Some venues have ridden the wave of change and still have a magnetic pull – the likes of Fabric and Ministry of Sound in London, or the Warehouse Project nights in Greater Manchester, Lord says. But even they are more of a special treat for young ravers, rather than a regular Saturday night fixture.

One key reasons for declining attendance is the squeeze on young people’s wallets, particularly the students who used to supplement clubs’ cash cow weekend trade with midweek visits.

Nearly a third of young people barely drink at all, according to some estimates, a trend that has led to a rethink of office Christmas parties, too.

But Lord and the NTIA point to other factors, ones that a government committed to the night-time economy could tackle with policy. These include cutting VAT for the sector and extending business rates relief – due to come to an end in April – to help offset higher staffing costs from rising minimum wage and national insurance contributions.

Help could be at hand from 2026, when business rates are to be reformed, but that’s a long way off for businesses that are struggling now. Planning is another sore point, with long-established late-night venues often facing nuisance complaints from residents of newly built housing developments.

In the longer term, Lord wants to see a shift in the attitude to where clubs sit in the British cultural firmament. “At school, I was scared of the word culture because I thought it meant high art, opera, ballet,” he said.

“Now I’d argue that clubs and festivals are more important than those high-end things. The government needs to understand the importance of places where you go out, meet your friends, start relationships. It’s not just a dancefloor.”

 

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