6: Jersey House & Sankeys Soap

Across the road on the corner, a doorway to old Ancoats.

With Jersey house painted above the door.

Go to it.

Reach out and place your hand on the chipped blue paint.

Feel the vibrations of the old mill within.

The energy, the heat, the noise.

There’s something down the road.

Something newer, but just as loud.

If you’re facing the door, turn left and head down Jersey Street.

Towards the distant trees.

Find that sound.

...

What’s that sound?

A heavy bass underfoot.

A feeling of anticipation, excitement, possibility.

Along the left side of the road a queue of people snaking their way down the road.

Hedonistic 90’s and noughties revellers waiting for the best

clubbing experience in Manchester. Sankeys Soap.

Jim Spalding It was you know, a bit of beacon. For the nightlife as well as the cultural scene back then.

Dodgy backstreets you had to walk down to get here.

The Cross Keys Pub, which was so run down, but the place to go for

Pre-drinks before the night ahead.

I am kisses on the dance floor.

I am mean faced bouncers, the gateway keepers to the friendliest club.

I am neon tubes in the ceiling and the day glow faces below.

I am perspiration, the sweat dripping off the ceilings.

A sea of arms in the air, bodies close together.

I am the room where people lost themselves in the music.

I am fresh faced clubbers moving to house and techno.

Is that Bjork? Is that one of the Spice Girls?

Daft Punk, The Chemical Brothers, New order.

I am the disused Soap Factory that became one of Britain’s greatest clubs.

Ears ringing let's stumble down to the cross roads.