Lakota x We Were There

Lanre Bakare talks Bristol, nightclubs & Black British culture.

To celebrate his new book We Were There, we sat down with Lanre Bakare for an exclusive Q&A to explore the deep connections between nightclubs, music, and Black culture in the 1980s. 

The book explores the birth of Acid House and Northern Soul. How did these music genre movements contribute to Black British identity outside of London?

Northern Soul is a central pillar of British counter culture. It established the model for everything from jazz-funk to rave. Before all-nighters emerged in the late 1960s, the idea of DJ culture – travelling to a night where you see your favourite DJ play records they’ve gone out of their way to source in a dark room full of other enthusiasts – wasn’t the norm. So it had a huge impact on the way Britain consumed dance music. The Black impact on the scene is often diminished or ignored entirely. Some great books like Stuart Cosgrove’s Young Soul Rebel and Elaine Constantine’s film Northern Soul feature Black dancers, but they’re outliers. I knew from watching footage and talking to fans that there were Black dancers and DJs and when I sought them out I discovered they had a disproportionate impact on the scene. Steve Caesar, Vernon Pryce and Rhonda Finlayson won dance contests, Ian Obeng ran a night for years in Stockport – they were all drawn to this outsider scene that was rooted in Black music.  

Similarly with Acid House, I wanted to investigate the creation myth of how it arrived in Britain. The footage from Manchester of a party in 1986 when a room full of Black Mancunians are dancing to Adonis’ No Way Back dispelled the idea that it was brought back from Ibiza by white London DJs – the Black networks that existed at clubs like The Reno were ahead of the curve and served as incubators not only for Black Brits but for wider British culture.

Vernon Pryce and friend at the last night of Wigan Casino in 1981.

Lakota has a long history of underground music and resistance. How do you think the role nightclubs have played in fostering Black cultural expression has changed since the 70s, 80s, and 90s?

Like I mentioned above, Black-owned clubs like The Reno are these fertile hubs for Black culture and creativity. Back in the era I write about in We Were There, Britain had this network of clubs across the country where Black culture drawn from across the Black Atlantic (the UK, Africa, the US) landed first. 

There was the Mayflower in Bradford, Killymans in Oldham and The Timepiece in Liverpool. The capital had its own network including – one of the very first – Club Noreik in Tottenham, Mr Bee’s in Peckham and Dougie’s Hideaway in Archway. In Manchester there was The Russell and The Reno. There were also the shebeens and Blues Parties, which were also crucial breeding grounds for Black expression (one of my favourite recent releases was a recording of Broadway Sound playing in a Blues in Moss Side in the 90s). 

But these clubs also provided spaces where Black people could relax at a time when life could be incredibly challenging. In the late 70s, when my book starts, a Home Office report found that Black people were 15 times more likely to be stopped under the controversial “Sus” laws, which gave police the right to apprehend someone on the suspicion they might commit a crime. Education, housing and employment were other battlegrounds where Black Britons faced prejudice. A few people I’ve spoken to said it was almost a religious experience and Paul Gilroy talks about the “electric church” – there’s definitely something in that. Clubs like Lakota and the World Headquarters in Newcastle continue that legacy.

Charisse C – See No Evil x Pianorama @ Lakota November 2024.

You spent some time living in Bristol in your early twenties – What stood out to you about the city and its culture back then?

It’s a while ago now but I lived in Windmill Hill. Moving down from Bradford I loved how different Bristol was. There’s the obvious things like the accent but the topography of the city, the hills, the way the river runs through the centre and creates these dramatic vistas – all that was exciting to me. I’m a huge fan of trip-hop, so it was great to spot some of the famous faces who adorn the sleeves in my record collection. I remember once walking through town on my lunch break and seeing Daddy G from Massive Attack appearing out of Halfords with a massive box over his shoulder. This is a guy I idolised growing up and there he is buying some bike stabilisers or something. It was surreal. 

It was the time when Joker was big with the Purple Sound coming out of Easton; Peverelist and Livity Sound were on the charge as well. I remember going to a gig at the Arnolfini and Tim Hecker was playing along with Actress and Demdike Stare – it was brutal. Pure bass culture in a minimalist black box. Bristol seemed to embrace that sound system inspired music – the Bass Culture – more than most places. I only lived there for seven months but it was special.

What does it mean to you to partner with a Black-owned venue like Lakota to support the campaign for your book?

It’s very special. Black British people have already done so much to support the book by giving their time for interviews, allowing me access to archives, digging out phone numbers etc. I think those of us from communities outside of London understand the frustration of not being seen and once people heard about the project they’ve really got behind it. I’ve had a fair wind at my back the whole way through.

What are your favourite spots in Bristol?

Like I said, I’ve not lived in Bristol for ages now and it was only seven months. But I loved the Thekla and Lakota as venues, Montpellier and St Paul’s were interesting places to explore – at that time they were counter cultural. The place I was fascinated by the most was probably Bedminster Asda, the massive one down there. It was like a portal to another dimension: you’d see all sorts of wild behaviour. It seemed to capture all those very special Bristolian characters in one place on a Sunday afternoon.

Lakota’s Legacy: A Hub for Cultural Revolution

Lakota nightclub has always been synonymous with cultural revolution. Since opening its doors in Bristol decades ago, it has been a space where diverse communities come together to celebrate music and creativity. Much like the stories in We Were There, Lakota has been a site of resistance and expression—a place where marginalized voices find their platform.

Post Thatcher, Lakota emerged as a beacon for underground music scenes like acid house and drum & bass. These movements were deeply influenced by Black British culture, echoing themes from Bakare’s book. Today, Lakota continues to honour this legacy by hosting events that celebrate diversity and push boundaries.

We Were There is out now.

Grab your copy here.