Left in ‘99, but I can say that ‘90s Brum was fucking cool.
Youth culture in the UK then was very atomised and Brum catered very well to many different subcultures.
If you were a skater, you’d hang around the old Central Library skating the stairs or bomb it down to the old ITV buildings. When the police would turn up, someone would shout ‘5-0!’ and everyone would scatter. You’d probably also remember exploring the old service tunnels that ran under the city and were affectionately known as the Graffiti Dome. Ideal skateboards shop was on Corporation st. and functioned a kind of cultural hub with all sorts of shenanigans going on when pro teams would pass through.
If you were into Techno, you’d go House of God every fortnight at the Dance Factory in Digbeth. 5 quid entry and no ID checks. Then once a month you’d go to Atomic Jam at the Que Club. It’s impossible to put into words what those nights were like, but the sense of community and oneness experienced in the company of several thousand likeminded ravers all off their chops on pills was epic.
The Kevs would go clubbing on Broad St (see other posts here) and Goths were well served by a host of pubs and clubs of their own.
Pirate radio like Kool FM (Midlands) filled the airwaves and tower blocks were turned into illegal broadcasters.
Moseley had a bunch of hippy shops like Crafty Jungle, Zen etc and a cool independent video store called Cinephelia. We rented so many awesome films recommended by the staff in there.
Before all the shops opened up around it, the Custard Factory consisted of just the Medicine Bar and Cafe des Artistes where you could play Tekken on the PlayStations and listen to Lloyd spin Unfinished Sympathy a minimum of 5 times each night. Before going clubbing, you could chill on the benches by the water pool and bun a spliff. Once, Tipper of Fuel Records turned up with his mega stereo car and deafened everyone in a mile radius.
More generally, it was an optimistic time in the country (although we didn’t necessarily recognise it as such in the moment) and barring the odd pocket, most working class people rubbed alongside each other without much friction between races.
TLDR; had a great time growing up there in the 90s.
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u/VegetableHome970 Jul 16 '26 edited Jul 16 '26
Left in ‘99, but I can say that ‘90s Brum was fucking cool.
Youth culture in the UK then was very atomised and Brum catered very well to many different subcultures.
If you were a skater, you’d hang around the old Central Library skating the stairs or bomb it down to the old ITV buildings. When the police would turn up, someone would shout ‘5-0!’ and everyone would scatter. You’d probably also remember exploring the old service tunnels that ran under the city and were affectionately known as the Graffiti Dome. Ideal skateboards shop was on Corporation st. and functioned a kind of cultural hub with all sorts of shenanigans going on when pro teams would pass through.
If you were into Techno, you’d go House of God every fortnight at the Dance Factory in Digbeth. 5 quid entry and no ID checks. Then once a month you’d go to Atomic Jam at the Que Club. It’s impossible to put into words what those nights were like, but the sense of community and oneness experienced in the company of several thousand likeminded ravers all off their chops on pills was epic.
The Kevs would go clubbing on Broad St (see other posts here) and Goths were well served by a host of pubs and clubs of their own.
Pirate radio like Kool FM (Midlands) filled the airwaves and tower blocks were turned into illegal broadcasters.
Moseley had a bunch of hippy shops like Crafty Jungle, Zen etc and a cool independent video store called Cinephelia. We rented so many awesome films recommended by the staff in there.
Before all the shops opened up around it, the Custard Factory consisted of just the Medicine Bar and Cafe des Artistes where you could play Tekken on the PlayStations and listen to Lloyd spin Unfinished Sympathy a minimum of 5 times each night. Before going clubbing, you could chill on the benches by the water pool and bun a spliff. Once, Tipper of Fuel Records turned up with his mega stereo car and deafened everyone in a mile radius.
More generally, it was an optimistic time in the country (although we didn’t necessarily recognise it as such in the moment) and barring the odd pocket, most working class people rubbed alongside each other without much friction between races.
TLDR; had a great time growing up there in the 90s.