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FrontLeft is throwing a party - here's what you need to know

Plus: the glory of the 3AM reunion
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FrontLeft is throwing a party - here's what you need to know
Credit: Jake Tucker

Since March I’ve spent a frankly unreasonable amount of my spare time writing about London nightlife or conducting field research into the scene, dancing my way around the city in the name of writing you a nice newsletter.

I’ve written about clubs, DJs, promoters, festivals, smoking areas, dancefloor etiquette, dodgy crowds, good crowds, expensive tickets, cheap tickets, venues that have disappeared, venues that have arrived, and the increasingly difficult business of trying to have a good night out in London.

And now, finally, I’m doing something slightly more sensible with all of it. We’re throwing a FrontLeft party on September 26. This has come about in partnership with Bread and Butter in Shoreditch, who had a spare space and thought we might want to use it to get fans of the newsletter together, have a few drinks and meet other people enjoying everything FrontLeft.

So, on Saturday 26 September, we’re taking over Bread and Butter in Shoreditch for a night of DJs who have all featured in FrontLeft over the last year. Adela, Benebe, Drastic Shuffle and Hostmigrate will be joining us from 8PM until 1:30AM, with a small room, a low capacity and, hopefully, some of that have spent 2026 reading this newsletter.

The idea is pretty simple. I wanted to put on the sort of night that FrontLeft is always banging on about. Excellent DJs. A good crowd. Somewhere you can actually talk to people. The focus is on getting a room full of good people together to chat and see some great music and the earlier part of the evening (8-10:30) will be slightly more chill musically. Then Adela will play at 10:30PM and things will feel a little more like a traditional club night until we close up at 1:30AM.

Hopefully it'll be fun, and it's going to be nice to meet some of the people that have been chatting in our Whatsapp or sending us nice messages on Instagram.

Credit: Gela S

There is, admittedly, one other reason we’re doing it. FrontLeft is not exactly a lucrative media empire. It costs money every month, and takes up a good chunk of time. I love doing it, but there are costs involved in keeping it going.

So this is a fundraiser. But I really don’t want it to feel like one and this will be the only time I talk about the economy behind the newsletter this year.

Please don't buy a ticket because you feel obliged to, or because you think you owe FrontLeft something. Buy one because you want to have a good night. Buy one because you like one of the DJs. Buy one because you’ve been reading FrontLeft for the last year and fancy meeting some of the people behind it. Buy one because £5 for a night out in Shoreditch is pretty difficult to argue with. And if, while you’re dancing, you happen to remember that your ticket is also helping keep an independent club culture newsletter alive, then great.

Credit: MAÏS

If you can't make it to the event but do want to support the newsletter, you can subscribe to our posts for $4 a month (or $40 for the year) and existing members can upgrade to a paid subscription by clicking here. If subscribing isn't for you, you can chuck us a few quid here as a one-off instead. None of this gives you anything extra right now, but it will help us keep going, and we have big plans for 2027.

This is the first proper FrontLeft party, and I have absolutely no idea what will happen after it. I know I don't want to become a promoter. Maybe it’ll be a one-off. Maybe this will become something we do once a year or so. Maybe I’ll prove my current theory that organising a party is even more complicated than writing about people who organise parties and try to partner up with an established promoter to do this in the future. For now, though, I’m just excited to get everyone in the same room.

So come down. Bring your mates. Meet some people from the newsletter. Have a dance. Tell me that something I wrote was wrong. Tell me that something I wrote was right. Buy me a drink if you’re feeling particularly generous. Buy yourself a drink! We have a minimum bar spend we have to hit.

But, most importantly, come and make FrontLeft exist somewhere other than your inbox.

The Mix

This Ricardo Villalobos set from a few weeks back is recommended listening this week, an eclectic set that twists and bends in the way most Villalobos sets tend to. Tracks layer on top of each other and unspool.

Villalobos can be, honestly, a little hit and miss. But this is one of his good ones. Plus, it's on YouTube so you can listen to it right here in the email. What a treat.

Getting the gang back together

Credit: Jake Tucker

One of my favourite things about going out in London is the moment you realise you've accidentally assembled half your friendship group. This happened to me at Koko this Saturday, when I went to see Fidelis at Koko on a whim after eating a mountain of tacos.

I didn't organise it. I ducked into a WhatsApp group a little in advance, but met several friends in the queue and hung out with them, greeting each new friend that appeared with a small cheer. I knew people were going, but it's a novel feeling to stroll onto a dance floor and suddenly all of your friends are arriving.

It's a great feeling. I didn't know if Fidelis would be my music (and the verdict is still out), but there's a lot to be said for having a little dance until shaking your butt until, before you know it, you've got 15 people standing around together grinning at each other.

Credit: Jake Tucker

I love that.

Not to mention the rave crowd can be somewhat transient. Sometimes a rave friend will vanish for a bit because they're busy with work, dating someone new, or their music tastes just haven't aligned with yours for a little while.

So when someone drops off the map for a couple of months, there's something very satisfying about seeing someone for the first time in a while. And it's not because anything dramatic has happened. You haven't lost touch. You haven't fallen out. You've just both been doing your own thing.

Credit: Jake Tucker

They've been to different clubs. You've been to different clubs. They've been away. You've been busy. Everyone's calendars have been doing that horrible thing where every weekend suddenly seems to have three things happening at once.

Then eventually you end up in the same room and it's immediately like you've seen each other yesterday.

There's no need for a big catch-up. You might have a ten-minute conversation at the bar about what's been happening, but mostly you just get back to what you're there for. Dancing.

Credit: Jake Tucker

This is one of the reasons I think going out regularly is so much fun. Over time, you build up this enormous, slightly chaotic network of people who exist somewhere between friends, acquaintances and people you recognise because you've apparently been attending the same parties for the last four years. You're closer to some people, others you know well enough just to wave at as you go through the room, but you can feel close to people without knowing exactly why they do for a living, their surname, or where they call home when they're not on the dancefloor.

But you know they have one particular dance, or that they think remixes of popular songs are a bit basic and need someone to roll their eyes at when The Prodigy plays.

And that's enough.

Credit: Jake Tucker

There's a particular joy in seeing these people outside of the context in which you normally know them, too. The person you saw once dancing a couple of weeks back shows up with another friend and they're as hyped to see you as you are them. That person you saw in the smoking area once is suddenly stood next to you in the queue. That person you said "alright" to once a few months back is now part of the group, weaving through a crowd to slap you on the back when they see you.

And then there's that great moment when someone arrives with another person you know, who arrives with another person you know, and suddenly the whole thing has snowballed.

You start the night knowing two people. Three hours later you've somehow got twelve mates around you.

Credit: Jake Tucker

London can be a weirdly lonely city sometimes. There are millions of people here, but everyone's schedules are completely different and getting people together can feel like trying to organise a minor military operation. My non-rave friends are nearly impossible to organise with as responsibilities multiply and life becomes a mess of house stuff, kids, pets, jobs and family holidays.

But that's what I like about nightlife. Sometimes it does the organising for you. There's something good every single weekend in London and a multitude of parties you could visit at any time. But every now and again one particular good DJ is enough to bring everyone together. You don't have to convince people to come, you don't need to make a reservation or send out a Whatsapp poll to see when we'll next meet up.

You just know that, if you go to the right place, there's a decent chance you'll bump into someone you like. And if you don't, well, you'll probably meet someone new.

Credit: Gela S

In my opinion, the really good nights are when you get both.

A couple of new faces. A couple of people you haven't seen in ages. A few people you've seen every weekend for the last six months. Someone you thought had stopped going out. For a few hours, everyone's doing the same thing.

No one is particularly interested in life outside of the dancefloor. Nobody cares about your inbox. Nobody needs to know how many meetings you've got on Monday. You're just a group of people in a dark room having a good time.

Credit: MAÏS

I think that's worth celebrating. Not like every night out is needs a legendary, life-changing experience. But just a little bit of recognition that, sometimes, the best thing about a party is simply looking around and thinking: "Oh, everyone's here."

It's nice to get the gang back together.

It's nice to see people you've missed without necessarily realising you'd missed them. It's nice to have a stupid dance with someone you haven't seen for two months. And hey, sometimes you just want to spend an evening doing absolutely nothing productive with people you like.

So here's to the accidental reunions with the people you only ever seem to see at 3AM, and the glorious moment when you look around the dancefloor and realise you've somehow managed to get a crowd of people you love in the same room.

Honestly, there are worse ways to spend a Saturday night.

The Briefing

Drumsheds is rumbling back to life just in time for Winter, and what a lineup to kick things off. With Armand Van Helden, Basement Jaxx and Groove Armada they're ticking off a lot of the nostalgia boxes that's for sure. I don't love Drumsheds as a venue, but will definitely make the trip just to sit in the main room.

Elsewhere, there feels like some sort of venue mix-up as Len Faki plays Phonox and French house superstar Traumer plays at Fold. It's a pretty quiet weekend otherwise, the only must-see is Franky Rizardo, but good luck getting tickets for Koko, which is already sold out and is likely to be absolutely heaving inside. If you're going, I'm in the unique situation of being both jealous of you but also feeling sorry for how crowded it's going to be.

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

What else?

Published by:

Jake Tucker

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