It was two years ago that we discovered the Pow Wow Club in Sheffield, led to it by a conversation as we began the long journey out of lockdown and started to contemplate getting back to listening to music played in public rather than from each other’s front rooms. It was a daunting proposition initially on two counts: partly the idea of stepping outside our rock’n’roll comfort zone into the broader spectrum of rhythm and blues, and partly the prospect of venturing to the distant north to a city neither of us could place on a map. The latter was quickly dispelled by a quick geography lesson that showed it was closer to us than London. As to the former – well, as I’ve written before in these pages, my first visit made me feel like a teenager stepping onto the scene for the first time as I found myself firehosed with unfamiliar tunes from the 50s and 60s, falling in love with many of them and trying to work out what they were and whether I’d possibly be able to source a copy. What’s more, we found ourselves making a whole bunch of new friends of our vintage who’d spent their youths immersed in parallel scenes, leading to a raft of other events, yet more new music, and the occasional chance to share some stuff from our collection. We’ve been back regularly since, with the Pow Wow a default fixture in our diaries.
And then on the August Bank Holiday, the Pow Wow reached its conclusion with one last glorious two night feast of music from the DJs who’d started the club back in 2006, plus those who’d come on board since and one or two very special guests. It goes out on a high, too, maintaining its reputation for capacity crowds in the venue with which it’s become inextricably associated, the Toolmakers in the heart of Sheffield’s post-industrial manufacturing quarter, which gives it part of its character. The decision to call it a day has been extensively explained on social media, so I won’t regurgitate that here, suffice to say that it’s a sensible but tough call by a team who respect both the demands that putting on an event of this quality places on the individuals behind it, and the audiences they rely on, and would rather do the hard thing now than let either down.
But that left a finale to enjoy, and enjoy we did. Sadly, we couldn’t get up in time for the Friday night bash (and seeing the subsequent playlists left us rueing the logistics that prevented us from being there), but we were on deck early Saturday evening to make sure we missed as little as possible, having reached Sheffield in time to refuel with a meal at our favourite independent Italian in the city, Mama and Leonie’s. It’s hard to put a finger on what gets played at the Pow Wow, as the playlist has evolved constantly throughout its life and one of the beauties is the personal take that each crop of DJs brings to it. Rhythm and blues provides the spectrum, but along that you’d find everything from late 40s jump, through uptempo blues, a smattering of rock’n’roll, a dash of popcorn, to garage, ska and gritty soul. Rarity is a theme, but not a dominating one: records you could pick up for a tenner sit alongside those that would set you back four figures – sometimes because exposure at places like the Pow Wow has made them insanely popular – the art is in the juxtapositioning, mixing what people have come expecting to hear with the ones they weren’t expecting and the ones they’d be waiting to hear next time.
The dance floor was as full as ever, but unlike the rockin’ clubs we grew up in, there’s no sense of particular dances attaching to particular records, which is liberating and allows for folk to let the music move them. That said, there’s always been some great dancers there whose interpretation adds to the record being played. Multiply that up until the floor is packed, and record and crowd work in tandem to create the atmosphere we love. And that’s what clubs like the Pow Wow do for us – unlocking the magic that sits in the grooves of 7” slices of vinyl through a good sound system (for which huge credit to Neale Dewey) for the shared enjoyment of people for whom music means everything. As Neale himself commented in the midst of his superb set, ‘this is our church’, which I guess makes the Pow Wow DJs about as funky a bunch of high priests as you’d ever find.
Though the Pow Wow name is now put to bed, I sense we’ll be back amongst that gang again in one guise or another. There are too many good records in the boxes of too many ardent DJs for them to remain unheard, let alone the ones they haven’t found yet. For now, though, our thanks to those who made this last event a night to remember and, through them, all those who’ve gone before: founder members Mik Parry, Mace Mason and Gav Arno; Pow Wow regulars Bill Kealy and Neale Dewey, and guesting from New York, Matt ‘Mr Fine Wine’ Weingarden.
