MANCHESTER


thick,” Jay says. “There were fewer venues, fewer bands playing, fewer comedy clubs, fewer galleries, fewer special events — it was dreadful. I don’t think that was the heyday; the heyday is now.” Sitting at the bar of landmark Manchester


“T


venue Night & Day Cafe, nursing a mug of what he describes as ‘off-brand Lemsip’, Jay Taylor is 50-something, dressed in black and bearded, with shoulder-length grey hair pulled back by a headband. It’s early evening, already dark; the daytime crowd are finishing up their coffees and the stage techs are starting to work their mysterious magic for tonight’s gig. Jay’s been the booker here for a few years,


but he’s been coming to Night & Day since the early days, back in 1991, when it was a fish and chip shop that would sometimes put bands on a tiny stage in the window. Today there’s a bit more space, and the stage — which over the years has hosted everyone from Manic Street Preachers and Elbow to Jessie J — has expanded and been moved to the back of the maroon-walled, art print- plastered space. I ask Jay about the big names he’s had


through the doors, hoping for tales of rock ’n’ roll antics and ridiculous riders, but he’s having none of it. “Whenever anybody asks me that I don’t say those famous bands have played here,” he tells me. “What I’d rather say is Juniore from Paris are playing next month and Sonic Jesus from Italy are playing aſter that, and...” he flips through a scruffy, scrawl-covered diary. “HalfNoise are playing on Monday. I’m more excited by that than by saying the Arctic Monkeys came through.” His response is typical of Manchester.


It’s a place that doesn’t have to brag about its musical credentials because they’re so irrefutable, and the nightlife has maintained legendary status for decades. I spent three


he rose-tinted spectacles that make the mid-90s seem better than now have got to be pretty


years living here as a student in the mid- Noughties, drawn as much by the promise of a good time in a big city as the reputation of the university — and I wasn’t disappointed. Planning to return to Night & Day later,


I meander through town and back towards my hotel. Manchester may have gained a few new architectural additions in recent years, but it remains a glorious mishmash, from grand Victorian red-bricks and art deco towers to shabby ’60s office blocks and glassy high-rises. Just south of the city centre, I pass the site that once housed The Haçienda, the club that was the epicentre of the ‘Madchester’ era. It’s been replaced by a bland block of luxury flats. Just round the corner, in the 23rd-floor


hotel bar, I have a drink with my friend Ben. An academic, he’s lived in Manchester on and off since our uni days, back when a good night out meant sticky dancefloors, Mr Brightside and double vodka Red Bull for £1. When I ask him where he likes to go out now, he replies: “Well, it depends whether you want the real answer, or the one I’d give if I were trying to show off Manchester.” The real one, I tell him, and he thinks for a minute. “Actually, there’s no difference — they’d both be the same place.” So, it’s over to Oscars, on Canal Street, the


heart of the city’s LGBT scene. While over the past decade many of the venues have changed — hands, names, concepts — this strip, along the bank of the Rochdale Canal, still offers Manchester’s most inclusive night out. The canal itself was opened in 1804 to transport goods and materials between Lancashire and Yorkshire, but when it fell into disuse, the surrounding textile factories and warehouses were abandoned. By the mid-20th century, derelict Canal


Street had become somewhere for covert encounters between gay men, and eventually it evolved into the out-and-proud place it is today. Rainbow flags flutter from venues like G-A-Y and Bar Pop, and a painted sign


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Emmeline Pankhurst, suffragette // ‘Generally speaking, its citizens have been liberal in their sentiments, defenders of free speech and liberty of opinion’


Mark Radcliffe, broadcaster // ‘Manchester has a deserved reputation as a city that thinks a table is for dancing on’


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