OPEN MIC NIGHT AT ADELPHI CLUB

How Hull's iconic independent gig venue breaks creative barriers on it's long-running monday night showcase, Jul 7, 2025

Well, it's hardly a massive venue, physically, at least

Anyone who's been there can tell you that, and anyone who's anyone has been there. There isn't a square inch of wall that isn't plastered with some poster detailing a guest this venue has hosted in the past. Ones that caught my eye were Radiohead, Franz Ferdinand, Stereolab, and The Housemartins (of course). I could go on, and I could have gone on last night, spending my entire evening scanning the various stickers on the pillars and scribbles in the toilets for acts I recognised, treating it like a messy mixed-media art exhibit. A fine way to spend a Monday night, but not why people spend a Monday night here. I was here for the famous open-mic night, a long-running tradition since the 80s.

The New Adelphi Club is halfway between Newland Avenue and Beverley Road, and not at all far from Princes Avenue, itself spearheaded by the Polar Bear Music Club. Spend any amount of time down the Avenues and you can tell it is a decidedly different region to any other you will find in Hull. It has, over the years, established itself as the premiere district of the city for independent artists and creatives. Its vicinity to the university supplies it with a near-endless stream of new people, new ideas, new perspectives, while regular fixtures line the side streets. They all converge at venues like the Adelphi, cornerstones of showcasing original talent, crafts, and utterly batshit performances. Before it began, a friend told me that anything goes tonight, told as a sort of half-warning, half-selling point.

But I was sold in minutes.

It was hardly a packed venue, easy to find a seat, but out of the woodwork of this small group emerged such a vibrant array of performers, each doing something so astoundingly unique. My personal favourite was when sound engineer Phil took to the stage behind a drum kit he had rigged up with various samples for each drum. From this, he created soundscapes of melodies and textures entirely from his seat. It was an amazing performance. But what caught my attention equally as much was when he first sat down.

"Hi everyone, I'm Phil" he said into the microphone before being immediately cut off by a round of cheers and applause. "Just for being called Phil?" he joked. But perhaps that speaks to the environment the night provides.

Could it be that, in adopting an everyone-is-welcome approach to open mic, at such a historic grassroots venue, the lines are blurred between audience and performer so seamlessly that simply being there, engaging, is all that matters? That here, we are all perpetuating a dialogue of art for art's sake-no one here for the spotlight, maybe just their moment, sure, but equally seated for everyone else? And does this fostered environment of breaking the barrier between stage and stools allow for these avant-garde micro-pieces to take shape in a much more comfortable light, surrounded by friends?

Maybe. Who knows. Just sit back and enjoy the show-or be part of it, if you dare. Just remember: anything goes.