On the 31st March it was announced that The Leadmill was facing eviction. The potential closure of this historic Sheffield landmark was, obviously, met with a huge outcry of sadness, and there is currently a campaign to try and prevent the eviction of The Leadmill.
To show our support for The Leadmill, as well as to emphasise how important of a venue it is to so many, we asked a few contributors to share some words about this historic music venue:
Charlie Sweeney (He/Him):
There is a tendency within music for us to mythologise certain venues. Places like the Cotton Club, CBGB and The Cavern have given birth to some of the greatest musical acts of all time. The Hacienda lives in immortalised infamy in the UK for its effect on the Madchester, Britpop, and dance scenes, and UK music in general. King Tuts Wah-Wah Hut will forever be famous for being the place where Alan McGee decided to sign Oasis. Music venues aren’t simply entertainment businesses, they form part of the cultural fabric of the cities, and the countries, in which they operate. The true value of a music venue is intangible; the emotional effect these places can have on a person is priceless. I know that when I’m in my seventies or eighties, I will still be wistfully thinking of seeing Father John Misty at the Brudenell in Leeds, or attending Birmingham’s iconic Hare & Hounds pub to see Irish folk group Lankum. Music venues mean far more than the events they put on and are worth far more than the price of admission.
No other music venue truly captures this more than The Leadmill. It is so deeply ingrained in the cultural fabric of Sheffield that it may as well be the location of the City Hall. I have only been in Sheffield for two years and I have already had so many great nights at The Leadmill, and seen so many great gigs there, that I know I will always treasure it. Even before coming to Sheffield, I knew how important it was as a venue. The Human League, Cabaret Voltaire and Pulp all got their start at the Leadmill. Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley used to go to club nights there. It was the sight of Arctic Monkeys’ first big gig.
The Leadmill should be decorated solely in blue plaques just for the cultural relevance of the place. Alex Kapranos famously told the members of Arcade Fire that “playing The Leadmill is a rite of passage for any band worth their salt”. To allow The Leadmill to close would be to allow modern British music to lose one of its foundational cornerstones. I understand there may be economic factors behind the decision, but at a certain point we have to look beyond capitalistic endeavour and focus on cultural relevance. The Leadmill has been a huge part of my life already, and I am sure many others will relate to that; it is, very simply, too important to lose.
Abi Ware (She/Her):
The Leadmill was the first music venue I visited in Sheffield, two years ago, and it has been a frequent favourite of mine ever since. Always able to guarantee cheap drinks and good music, a night at the Leadmill, whether it’s a club night or a gig, is hard to turn down! So many of my nights have been spent waiting below that iconic red sign for ABBA-themed nights, and I have made so many friends there. I have also never felt unsafe in The Leadmill. The venue clearly goes to great lengths to guarantee the safety of its attendees, and its anti-spiking measures are really good. Even the bouncers are friendly.
The Leadmill is such an iconic landmark in Sheffield, especially for students, and it would be a real shame if future residents did not get the chance to enjoy it as much as I have.
Jake Love (He/Him):
The Leadmill, to me, is more than just another venue. I had heard about The Leadmill long before I had even gone there. Growing up in Nottingham, the stories my dad had told me of his student days in Sheffield were always highlighted by his experiences at The Leadmill. The stories he would tell me about the bands seemed almost like myths to me, and when I went to my first gig there, I was not disappointed.
Standing in the queue with half-empty cans of beer on the ground, with the red neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement was an experience I was all too familiar with by the end of my first proper year as a University of Sheffield student. The wooden floors, sticky from spilt Red Stripe, which have seen generations of dancing figures adorned with bucket hats and Oasis t-shirts is what makes The Leadmill a particularly special venue. The history and tradition of the venue will always exist no matter what.
Joey Grindrod (He/Him):
British music has a proud history of fierce independence. Artists, venues, and record labels have proudly worn the label of ‘indie’ for as long as people have been making music on this island.
For me, the Leadmill epitomises this attitude of independence. The Leadmill has for decades served as a breeding ground for South Yorkshire’s up and coming musicians, producing local legends like Arctic Monkeys and Pulp, as well as luring bands from across the world to the streets of the Steel City. With a keen eye for talent, the Leadmill has played host to a plethora of artists that would go on to international superstardom, including Oasis, the White Stripes, the Strokes, and many, many more.
The Leadmill is a cultural institution, it’s the spirit of Sheffield in a building – two fingers to the establishment and an independent attitude that Sheffield’s music scene can’t afford to lose.
Callum Martin (He/Him):
The Leadmill is a truly unique place.
When I first arrived in Sheffield as a naïve fresher, unaware of the gravitas of the venue, I heard the name come up in conversation for a flat night out. It was 2020 and everything was still all sitting only but hey, an ABBA night somewhere with a name as cool-sounding as “The Leadmill” seemed like just the thing to spice up a Thursday night that would otherwise be spent drinking in our flat.
And it was about as entertaining as those sit-down night outs could be.
We all got way too drunk, split across two tables, and then proceeded to spill out onto the cold Sheffield streets, stumbling our way back home and ducking into alleys to be sick. But the place had still made a lasting impression on us all.
It was the first place I’d been out to in Sheffield, and honestly very few can even begin to compare. From the moment you round the bottom of Shoreham Street onto Leadmill Road and see that big-red-neon-Moulin-Rouge-esque sign that brings in droves of party-going moths, you know that this isn’t like any other club you’ll find in the Steel City.
It holds so much gigging history. For literal decades, it has been Sheffield’s premiere venue with none too big or too small to grace its stage. And because of that you’ll find that almost everyone has a story about a gig that feels unique to the Leadmill’s floors. My own was finding L’Objectif’s guitarists ID on the floor during a gig where they were the support. The same floor that has seen some of the largest names in music and your uni mate get way, way too into singing The Best of Both Worlds. It feels surreal.
And it’s so rare to find somewhere like that nowadays. It can cater to both the needs of a gig venue and those of a club so well and the people running it always seem to find such a good balance in its events management. I honestly can’t think of anywhere else in Sheffield that you can see an unknown indie band playing their first EP, followed later that week by a chart-topper playing their sell-out UK tour, all with a few cheesy club nights thrown in-between those the two dates.
It’s a place that can’t go, mustn’t go, if Sheffield is to retain any reputation as a hotbed of musical talent. It was the pinnacle, the precipice of South Yorkshire music. You wanted to go be someone? You had to play the Leadmill. It was as simple as that. Without it, what’s left?
It’s another reminder that in the eyes of some, there is nothing sacred anymore. No place too renowned, no history too storied. Nothing can stop “progress’” march.
But God, I just want to be able to see that sign blazing out, pass through the graffitied doors into a room so warm you can see the steam in the air, to be able to turn to a mate and say, “so £5 round then?”
If you feel the same as we do, and if you value independent music venues, or even just places of historical importance, then please sign this petition, and help us save The Leadmill.
