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‘TWhite Hotel is synonymous with Highlander and Keith Richards. It will never die,” says Austin Collings. Collings is the artistic director of the Salford site – housed in a former MOT garage – and over the past decade has been a generator of underground culture in the North West. Manchester Together, Bertolt Brecht’s celebration and Andy Weatherall’s final DJ set is a testament to his versatility. Collings, Ben Ward – the Hotel’s “caretaker” – and a close-knit group of friends and colleagues have created an experimental space that serves as the most iconic underground space in the North.
But while they continue to paint all the buildings, the White Hotel will close in January. Always on steady ground, now he’s sinking – literally. According to Salford According to the city council’s Strategic Regeneration Framework, the White Hotel is located in a flood risk area. “Basically,” says Ward, “it’s a swamp.” Theoretically, they could have settled for a few years, but they decided it was better to “go out on our own, before we become a museum”.
The success of the past decade – including sold-out gigs from the likes of Damo Suzuki and William Basinski – has defied expectations in many ways. The White Hotel is hard to find, situated in a very secluded location that backs onto the River Irwell. Strangeways Prison is nearby: former inmates have reported hearing club noises at night. His design has been messy, DIY and informed by deliberate experimentation. The first idea was that it would be like the Colony Room Club in Soho, London, where everyone from Francis Bacon to David Bowie and Princess Margaret shared it: somewhere “it was rude, but full of artists”, says Collings.
It was not planned to be 10 years. Initially, the plan was to open the White Hotel for one year before moving to Los Angeles (where he has music and film related projects) and then Sarajevo (where he wanted to do more). “So because it became popular, you realize, we have to continue this,” says Ward. Collings credits the success of the experience that was built on the principle of “low budget, high concept”. The night they realized they really had a hit on their hands in 2019 was when Detroit legend DJ Stingray played and the 300-seat venue was packed.
In the early days, the organizers had a free entrance policy for all. They remember the punter who brings the hammer to the dancefloor. “But not in a threatening way, if possible,” says Collings. The doormen were special forces and brought in a dog named Luther to help: “The dog was louder than DJ,” says Collings. On New Year’s Eve 2017, someone lit fireworks and they went off at the bar. “It was like Bugsy Malone,” says Collings.
But beneath the chaos, planning and execution remained at the fore. No operational challenges were insurmountable: he sent pianos around the world to the top Australian group Necks. Any profit was plowed back into the property. “The early days were crazy, but not overwhelming,” says Ward. He calls their programs “a snapshot of what was going on in newspapers at the time. We were there and at that time.” He did “Genny Lec” every day of the UK and US elections, where he played the polls on the big screens and the audience voted with their devices, sitting on chairs painted with the colors of each party, and watching Prince Andrew’s interview bought at Pizza Express.
Between them, the two have boundless energy and generosity, eager to name all the people they worked with at the White Hotel. Collings credits Ward with a rare ability to bring people together. They pride themselves on being unashamedly “hard-and-ready” in culture. Ward grew up nearby. Collings is from Radcliffe, which he calls the “dogshit Valley”. He previously lived in Prestwich, the home of Mark E Smith’s Fall’s, and ghost wrote Smith’s memoir: “I came out thinking you could be both activist and avant garde,” he says. “Humour is the fuel.”
The White Hotel only caught the attention of the national press when the 2018 reconstruction of Princess Diana’s funeral, by artist Stanley Schtinter, came on the radar of right-wing tabloids. Clubbers marched through Salford carrying a fake casket, accompanied by a mariachi band playing Candle in the Wind, and a recording of Jonathan Meades reading Earl Spencer’s words to his sister. Collings describes the event as “heartfelt”. The Daily Mail disagreed, calling it “sick and disgraceful”. Collings said: “It was full, it was the front page. He says that some of the participants found the presence of breasts unpleasant, “but I did not complain.
Next month, the team behind the White Hotel are celebrating its spirit at a new three-day festival, Black Lights, in venues around Blackpool including a ballroom similar to Strictly Come Dancing. The line goes from the beginning of British bass music through its many influences: A Guy Called Gerald, Gescom, Space Afrika. A new commissioned work by Mica Levi and the BBC Philharmonic will debut at Blackpool Opera House. (Whether it returns next year depends on ticket sales.)
He is also setting up a film production company. “Ben and I met in the boozer talking about Wong Kar-wai, so the film was a natural fit,” says Collings. He co-wrote Odyssey last year, directed by Gerard Johnson, The’s Matt’s brother, and Collings’ directorial debut, a short called Wild Bodies, will go to the festival circuit with the song Coral. “It’s very decorative, but it’s funny — a nod to Powell and Pressburger and Lindsay Anderson.”
Although gentrification in Manchester is going abroad, and 7,000 houses are being planned in the area around the White Hotel, the area is not being replaced by apartments, but by wetlands. While the demise of the White Hotel will take away something very rare – a club built from the ground up fueled by a spirit of experimentation and collaboration, ignoring the pursuit of profit – its spirit will change, and neither Ward nor Collings have any intention of losing the place. “It’s amazing that it’s taken this long,” Ward said.
