“I’ve Lived My Life Through Music”: A Conversation With Fabric Founder Keith Reilly
When I got on the phone with Fabric London cofounder and owner Keith Reilly, it was to talk about some of the defining factors of an enduring nightclub. It was the beginning of 2014, and Reilly’s club has since faced some well-documented obstacles, currently fighting for its survival. In a sense, this dovetails with the story Reilly told of the journey that led to the opening of his club in 1999, a chronicle of idealism triumphing in the face of insurmountable odds.
Reilly is a passionate driving force behind a truly impressive and diverse number of art and music projects around the world, stretching far beyond the basement brick walls of Fabric. At the time, he was deep in bureaucratic negotiations with the British and Chinese governments, working toward his long-gestating goal of a global art hub that would feature high-end performance spaces in 20 cities around the world. He described it as a “free creative arts laboratory… an experimentation zone” for art and music projects that could be collaborated on, viewed, and replicated globally.
“The whole reason I’m involved is that, for my entire life, I’ve been running around with a bag of dreams and ideas. Trying to get them off the ground, and trying to get people to believe in you—it can be a very difficult thing, and it’s the place where many people perhaps fall at one of the hurdles. So much art and creativity never sees the light of day, because there isn’t a home where these lost creatives can go to have their ideas understood and nurtured.”
Reilly threw his first warehouse party in 1978, before eventually embarking on a journey in the early ‘90s to open a club that would allow him to realize his own vision of underground dance culture. At times, this came at a catastrophic cost for him personally, leading him to sell his two homes, and in his own words, driving him to the edge of financial ruin.
“The truth about this ‘endurance factor’ is that it is very closely related to the individual’s motivation for doing this. And I think that is very much driven by the impact that the music has on them. I’ve lived my life through music; I’ve collected around 600,000 pieces of vinyl since I was 13, and I have hundreds and thousands of CDs and radio recordings.”
“Music impacts certain people in that way. If you’re that type of person, and that’s been your motivation, the central core of what you’re doing is going to be so much more authentic and pure. That’s what led to the opening of Fabric, and it’s the core philosophy that permeates everything we do as a team. We all share that lifestyle, that culture, those experiences.”
“It’s about a group of people doing something together, the location itself irrelevant. And that’s why the whole thing blossoms into one large extended family: because you have that shared passion. Club culture has been so central to youth culture over the past 20–30 years; we’ve all grown within this together. It’s a very unifying and universal commitment to a lifestyle.”
“We only ever book [artists whom] we believe in. That way, you can’t ever get it wrong. For some, it’s like a guessing game—just trying to second-guess what the latest fad is. Play any guessing game, and you’re eventually going to get it wrong; it’s just probability. But I’m 53 years old; I’m not about to start second-guessing what kids might love. My job as a promoter is really very simple… it’s to scour the world to search for beautiful things, and then say, ‘Look at what I found.’ That might be a DJ or the artwork in our flyers. For me, it’s a very, very simple thing.”
It was a reassuring idea—the notion that Reilly’s own “philosophy of authenticity” had translated into enduring success. However, he emphasised his own personal sacrifices in getting Fabric open.
“I’m not what you would call ‘successful.’ The club is successful, and it’s been responsible for generating hundreds of millions of pounds in revenue over the years. But I sacrificed everything for the club. I sold two family homes, I lived my life in debt, and I even lost my marriage through it; so I wouldn’t say it necessarily translates into material success for me.”
The hunt for the perfect location was one of the reasons it took so long to get Fabric open in the first place. Described as an endless search that stretched over an entire decade, it saw Reilly inspecting literally thousands of locations. Before eventually settling upon a converted basement cold-storage unit opposite the London Smithfield meat market, Reilly says the other contenders included a “gothic cathedral buried underground,” plus a former subway station.
“I was going to convert an old underground station, and it would have been absolutely amazing, this network of tunnels… around 85 feet under the ground. I spent 18 months on it and nearly 300,000 pounds on fire regulation and planning. I got the whole thing passed, believe it or not; then there was a big fire at King’s Cross. Transport for London had a complete change of heart and said, Look, we understand it’ll be safe, but we just don’t want to do this anymore.”
While scouting for a spot, Reilly says he drew on his own experiences growing up in the rave scene.
“I’d been putting on warehouse parties for many, many years before I opened Fabric. What you’re looking for is essentially the architectural nature of the building. You go into the building, and as a promoter, it’s so palpable; it’s like you can almost hear the music. The space either feels right, or it doesn’t.”
“Finding a location that is just right is a very difficult thing to do, but I’m really, really glad I persevered. There are points where you think, Fuck it—I’ll just accept this place. You just wanna get out of the traps and get going. And by the time I got to opening Fabric, I was on my last gasp of financial oxygen.”
Reilly spoke of feeling distraught when projects that were forged in passion were burned to the ground. He’s faced a fresh set of obstacles this year, with the Islington Council deciding to revoke Fabric’s license in a decision that received condemnation across the political spectrum. Reilly offered advice to his cultural comrades for when they’re down and out, which he’ll likely be drawing on himself at the moment.
“Music is like an energy force of its own. I don’t think you would be able to stay with this job if you weren’t naturally infused and replenished by discovering new music all the time. No matter how hard it gets, you just go home and put on a Richie Hawtin album and say, ‘This is what it’s all about.’ Everything else is totally meaningless and transitory. The difficult times are made so much easier, simply because of the fact that you always have this natural recharge to draw on.”
Fabric London is currently seeking donations for its Save Our Culture campaign.
