Editorial 004: Your Bag, Our Bag

Sick sets, cheap beer

Christmas and New Year always bring this weird tug of war. Spend money on other people or spend money on yourself.

Self care versus the joy of giving.

Both important. Both a bit messy. Both part of who we are.

It made me think about the rave and what it really means to us. Not just to me or to the crew but to every single person who walks into a dark room and lets the bass take over. So, I set up a Google Form because we actually want to hear from you. Properly hear you. What does a rave do for you. What does it give you that the world doesn’t.

And because I am asking you to share, it feels only fair that I should share too.

So here is a story from my first ever rave at Antwerp Mansion.

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What's mine is yours

Antwerp. Off the Curry Mile. On the edge of Victoria Park.

I do not remember the DJ per se, but I know it was DnB and that old skool hardcore energy that used to knock the breath right out of your chest.

I was 16 which means I absolutely should not have been there. I grew up going to family blues parties in Whalley Range, Levenshulme and Moss Side so music and chaos were not new to me, but Antwerp was this mythical beast that older mates spoke about like scripture. So obviously I needed to see it.

For anyone who never had the honour, Antwerp was an ex mansion (who’d have thought) turned into a loose version of a venue. The bottom floor had a stage with subs that made your teeth shake, and a crowd full of pure filth and joy. To get upstairs you had to climb a staircase that would have failed every health and safety check known to man. The upstairs room sat right under a gable roof, beams exposed, walls crumbling, floor bending like it had given up years ago.

The toilets were stalls with no doors. Just vibes and questionable graffiti that would send anyone on psych's directly into the astral abyss.

If you needed a piss as a woman you either braved it or found a group of girls willing to shield you from prying eyes with their jackets.

It was brilliant. It was beloved. It was ours.

The sound roared, the drinks were cheap enough, and the community felt like something holy. I was hooked. No drugs, just euphoria. DJs who were pure grassroots. No ego. Just music.

It honestly changed something in me, and for that I am eternally grateful for I wouldn’t be here. Before that night my world was shaped by my sister’s white labels and tapes but Antwerp opened everything up. It was the first place I ever felt fully free. No judgement. No bullshit. Even though people knew I was too young they let me exist in that moment and enjoy the music. I am still thankful.

Antwerp was a mixture of areas and cultures. That was where Hit & Run did so many iconic nights. Where Hit & Run and Levelz tore the roof off. It was unbelievably powerful, and I chased that feeling for years.

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Friends, Dj Friends

Venues come and go, and we have spoken about that before but what actually lasts is legacy. Antwerp is now a hireable space for the tamer stuff, but the memories still live in all of us. Those nights still bring us together years later. That is what legacy is. And now, sitting behind the bar at The Bag Factory, watching people tell us that what we are doing matters, that we are NEEDED, that we are building something for the next generation, I finally get it.

The Bag Factory means family. In six short months we have built a foundation that feels real, rooted, and strong. We have plans, dreams and very big ideas but none of this would be possible without YOU. Every penny we make goes straight back into the venue. Every bit of feedback we listen to. We want to be the next proper underground grassroots music venue in Manchester. We want to earn that title. And if the memories we already have count towards that goal, then fuck me it is going to be one hell of a journey.

So, I want to hear from you.

Tell us what you want to see.

Tell us what you love about music and the Manchester scene.

Tell us what needs fixing and what needs celebrating.

What genres you want. What nights hit right. What you want more of.

We are only small. Four of us run the whole thing. We are all a bit mad but that is exactly how we ended up here. The scene is crying out for change. It has become monotonous, and I am so fucking sick of long queues, grim toilets and 7 quid White Claws. Like honestly, fuck off.

This place is home for us.

This place is home for you.

Mi casa es tu casa, mi amor.

So hit the link below and tell us what you think 👇

And as always, we will see you at the front.

Love,

Your Editor x

Click Me 🫦