One place which, by my reckoning, was the last refuge of the yardie scoundrel back in 1988 was a tiny piece of vintage east London called HOXTON. On a chilly monday night only those who were brave enough to go where angels feared to tread or those blissfully ignorant of the inherent dangers of clubbing in this part of the capital would venture down to a dimly lit, sweaty little jazz club called the BASS CLEF.

One of the reasons I'd decided to hold my 'Original Rare Groove Show Goes Live' (the full title of the night) at this dank Hoxton watering hole was because at the time, I was on the lookout for a small underground space somewhere in central London. I was after a space that was intimate and out of the way yet also free of strobes and smoke machines. I wanted to do a cheap monday night club especially for the small band of hardcore soul and funk fans and with-it students who still loved this particular type of music and would support a night if a 'suitable' venue was found.

I'd only ever met owner and one time jazz bassist PETER IND once before and on that particular ocassion, I must admit our initial meeting didn't get off to a very good start. He was openly hostile to the idea of having a weekly 'disco' (as he arrogantly put it) in his little 'live' venue and restaurant and was fairly rude to me whilst making this point which forced me to respond verbally in kind - 'fcuk him' I thought.

Anyway, I was having it off majorly with my new Thursday NY garage/house nighter 'HIGH on HOPE' at Dingwalls in Camden and didn't really give toss whether I did a night there or not. I silently vowed never to set foot in his Hoxton sh*thole again. That was until I was contacted a few months later by a promising young female salsa dj called DOMINIQUE. She'd just taken over the day to day running of the venue on behalf of Ind whilst doing her own successful salsa night at the venue. She had heard I was looking to start up a new night.

At our next meeting (thanks to the diplomatic efforts of Dominique), discussions were a little more cordial. This time though, he was far more receptive to the idea. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that the venue was in imminent danger of closure and resulting receivership.

In 1988, acid house was sweeping all before it in clubland in the wake of the rare groove hype which preceeded it. I must admit I loved the early drug fuelled parties and ensuing chaos which followed. I also quite enjoyed SOME of the music during that 'mental' period too. But the suggestion that the rare groove scene was now 'over'- declared so by ill informed music hack tossers at the time was premature to say the least. All that had happened was that this specialist black music scene was allowed to return to it's original underground roots and out of the media spotlight.

I did my very first night at the Clef in November 1988. A one-off birthday party for myself and few close mates. As it turned out, word got round that Norman was having a birthday 'doo' and we had an absolute road block with over 350 heads cramming into a space designed and licensed for 150 with scores more looked outside. All this on a Monday night with little or no promotion. I played on my own the whole night and although only officially licensed till 2am, we had a lock-in and carried on partying till 5am.

The crowd down there became like a close knit family. I got to know a lot of the regulars over time and was on first name terms with many of them. The club manager was a former barman at Dingwalls called MARK - a popular six foot three gay goth who sported a jet black mohican and matching Dr Marten high top boots. Although he looked pretty scary, he was pretty harmless really, a real diamond geezer who was popular and well liked by everyone.

The vibe was so spiritual and the music so emotional in there - you couldn't help but feel the intense atmosphere right through the building , especially when it was packed. Former regular old 'Clef' faces include Sade, Bjork and the Sugarcubes, Neneh Cherry, Nellie Hooper, Jamiroquai, The Brand New Heavies, Ben from Curiosity Killed The Cat, The Young Disciples and countless other local emerging talent.

The club had a 'tolerant' smoking policy (thanks to Mark) and I rigorously adhered to a 'lights on till midnight' policy. It was deliberate ploy. The purpose being to encourage a convivial social atmosphere where everyone could see, meet, greet and talk to each other (even if they were total strangers before) whilst I played chilled out jazz and soul grooves in the background. I would then slowly dim the house lights to the opening strains of Ramsey Lewis's 'Slipping Into Darkness'.

That done, more upbeat and funkier tunes would follow. It was a ritual I would perform every week for the next 4 or 5 years. The loyal crowd who came down week after week really understood and appreciated the significance of little touches like that. By now we were attracting regular visitors from all over the uk and the world from as far afield as the US, Japan, Germany and Australia purely on the reputation of the night alone.

Then the inevitable happened. The venue was sold off to a consortium fronted by my old mate EDDIE PILLAR to house his rapidly expanding Acid Jazz empire. He had a bold new vision for the future of the the old listed building. And to his credit, he accomplished most of what he'd set out to do. He managed to create a really modern looking multi-media, four story space which he renamed the BLUE NOTE after the famous old jazz label.

On our final night (as on our opening night all those years before), the place was absolutely mobbo. Just about anyone (and everyone) who had ever been down to the club previously tried to get in the Clef that night. There were mad scenes in there. It was a very emotional affair too as I recall with tears a plenty when I finally called 'time' on proceedings around 5am.

For the life of me, I just can't seem to remember what the last tune played that night was called (can anyone help?). All I seem to remember was the place bursting into spontaneous applause when the lights went up at the end. With a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye, I knew then that a very special era in London club culture was finally over.

When we restarted the night several months later at the 'all new' Blue Note, the opening night was again mobbo. But for some unexplainable reason, the vibe just didn't feel quite right. Maybe it was the 'cold' blue interior or the lack of any decent seating near the dancefloor or dj booth. The fact it lacked a single level dedicated dancefloor (not like the old space used to have) definately contributed to the overall lack of atmosphere (especially if the place was less than full).

Though we were to enjoy some great nights at the 'Note' over the next few months, I realised my heart just wasn't in it anymore. So after nearly a year of monday night sessions, I reluctantly decided to call a day. I suppose with the benefit of hindsight, I shouldn't really have have tried to continue the night in the new space - it just didn't feel right. I should have just put it to bed first time around - that way the memory of those truly epic nights experienced by those lucky enough to have been part of it will remain for ever.

Even to this day, with all the various residencies I've been fortunate enough to have had over the years - NOTHING comes close to the BASS CLEF. It was a truly spiritual place. It still ranks as one of my all time favourite gigs EVER!! As for the people who went there, they too know that they were indeed part of something extremely special. Those spiritual Monday nights will have left an indefinable musical feeling that will stay with them, be part of them forever - a fitting tribute to a truly great London club.

Norman Jay MBE