The Blackpool Mecca Highland Room
The Blackpool Mecca Highland Room was a legendary Northern Soul venue in Blackpool, Lancashire, England. Housed within the sprawling Blackpool Mecca leisure complex on Central Drive, the Highland Room rose to prominence in the 1970s as one of the key locations in the Northern Soul movement.
Known for its exuberant dancefloor energy, cutting-edge soul music selections, and influential DJs, it became both a rival and complement to better-known clubs like the Wigan Casino. Its story spans from a glitzy 1960s ballroom hosting live Motown acts to a groundbreaking 1970s nightclub that introduced new musical styles – leaving an indelible legacy on Northern Soul culture.
Early History as a Ballroom
Opened in 1965, the Blackpool Mecca (also known as the Locarno or Mecca Ballroom) was at the cutting edge of nightclub entertainment at the time. The venue was a vast entertainment complex with multiple leisure facilities – a large “New World Ballroom” for dancing and live music, and even a Top Rank ten-pin bowling alley on site, as seen in its exterior signage. The main ballroom could accommodate about 3,500 people and featured a glamorous stage with a revolving bandstand, suited to cabaret acts and dance orchestras. In its mid-1960s heyday, thousands of patrons flocked to the Mecca for popular dance nights and concerts, aided by free coach services the club provided to bring in crowds from surrounding towns. Big-name American soul and R&B artists performed at the Mecca’s ballroom during this era – the venue played host to groups like The Chi-Lites, The Miracles, and stars such as Isaac Hayes and Edwin Starr, giving local audiences a chance to see Motown and soul legends live on stage.
By the late 1960s, however, tastes in nightlife were changing. Huge ballroom halls began to fall out of fashion as younger crowds sought more intimate club experiences, and attendance at the Mecca’s grand dance hall started to dwindle. By the early 1970s, the main ballroom that once drew thousands was sometimes drawing only dozens of patrons. Like many large dance halls of the period, the Blackpool Mecca needed to reinvent itself to stay relevant. Uniquely, this complex had a second, smaller dance floor on an upper level – the Highland Room, so named for its décor – which would prove to be the Mecca’s saving grace. In 1970–71, as the ballroom’s popularity waned, the management turned the Highland Room into a dedicated “rare soul” venue, ushering in the next chapter of the Mecca’s history.
Northern Soul Takes Over the Highland Room
The Highland Room’s transformation into a Northern Soul hotspot began around 1970. Local DJs Tony Jebb and Les Cokell initially established regular soul music nights there, spinning rare imported American soul 45s for a growing crowd of devotees. These events capitalized on the momentum of Britain’s underground soul scene, which had been gathering pace in the North and Midlands. When Manchester’s famous Twisted Wheel club – regarded as the birthplace of Northern Soul – closed in early 1971, Blackpool’s Highland Room was poised to fill the void. Suddenly, it became one of the only places in the country specializing in hard-to-find uptempo soul records, attracting fans from far and wide. Saturday evening soul sessions in the Highland Room soon drew hundreds of young “soulies” each week, all eager to dance to obscure Motown-style tracks that couldn’t be heard anywhere else.
Unlike the all-night parties at venues such as the Golden Torch in Stoke-on-Trent or later the Wigan Casino, the Mecca’s Northern Soul nights operated within normal licensing hours. The Highland Room’s events typically ran from about 8 PM until 2 AM on Saturday nights, as the club did not have an all-night license. (On special occasions the Mecca would host extended “all-dayer” events, running from midday into the night, to partially compensate for the lack of all-nighters.) Even without overnight hours, the Highland Room’s reputation grew quickly. By 1971, soul commentator Dave Godin noted the enormous crowds flocking to Blackpool’s Mecca – “If you can imagine the crowds going into a football match, then you’ll have a pretty good idea of the front of the Mecca on a Saturday night”, he wrote, observing coaches disgorging eager fans at the door. Regulars came from across the North of England thanks to the Mecca’s free coach transportation, and many would greet familiar faces from different towns as they queued up each week. What had been a secondary room in a fading ballroom was fast becoming one of the UK’s Northern Soul epicenters.
By late 1971, a young Blackpool-born DJ named Ian Levine had emerged as a central figure at the Highland Room. Originally a hardcore soul record collector in his teens, Levine had been advising the Mecca’s DJs behind the scenes – even supplying rare records from his own collection. At age 18, he effectively launched his DJ career at the Mecca when Les Cokell fell ill one night and Levine stepped in to spin records for the eager crowd. Levine soon proved to have an extraordinary ear for rare soul. He had the advantage of a wealthy family (his parents owned a casino in Blackpool), which allowed him to make frequent trips to the United States in search of forgotten soul vinyl. With suitcases of obscure 1960s records newly unearthed from American warehouses and junk shops, Levine was able to introduce a constant stream of “new” old soul discoveries to the Highland Room audience, week after week. As one chronicler put it, any Northern Soul aficionado eager to hear the latest rare finds “had no alternative other than to attend the Mecca”, because Levine alone had those records at first.
Around 1972–73, Levine was joined by fellow DJ Colin Curtis, forming a partnership that would define the Mecca’s soul nights. (Tony Jebb had departed to spin at the Golden Torch all-nighters, and briefly the Highland Room even closed for a few months while Levine guested at the Torch, until that club’s shutdown in 1973.) Once Wigan Casino opened in late 1973, Northern Soul activity in the region doubled – Wigan ran all-night dances every weekend, while Blackpool Mecca continued its Saturday night soul sessions. Through the mid-1970s, Levine and Curtis were the resident DJs at the Highland Room, and under their stewardship the venue became renowned for breaking unknown records and shaping Northern Soul trends. Soul fans of the era often talk about two “schools” of Northern Soul: the Mecca crowd vs. the Wigan crowd, each with its own favorite sounds and style. The Highland Room had firmly established itself as a major Northern Soul institution, on equal footing with Wigan Casino as the scene’s twin epicenters.
The Highland Room Dancefloor and Atmosphere
Despite being just the “secondary” room of the Mecca complex, the Highland Room was spacious and well-appointed for dancing. Dave Godin, after his first visit in 1971, described it as “by any standard, [a] large [room]” with modern, clean-cut décor and plenty of room for the crowd. The dancefloor itself was huge and ideal for Northern Soul dancing – a smooth wooden floor that could withstand hours of athletic spinning and shuffling. Lighting in the room was kept dim to enhance the nightclub mood, with ultraviolet “black lights” creating an otherworldly glow (and making the dancers’ white shirts and belt buckles fluoresce). A powerful sound system pumped out music at high volume, with an emphasis on thumping bass to “hook the dancers” and drive the beat. At one end stood a small DJ rostrum where the night’s selectors – initially Tony Jebb and team, later Levine and Curtis – presided over twin turntables. A long bar along the side served drinks until midnight (after which waitresses continued service on the floor), and chairs and tables lined the perimeter, giving dancers a place to cool off and socialise between records.
Many who attended recall the Highland Room’s atmosphere as electric yet oddly elegant for a soul club. Unlike some grittier venues of the era, the Mecca maintained a bit of old-fashioned ballroom propriety – for example, men were initially required to wear a tie to gain entry. Regulars joke that a loosened tie over a sweat-soaked shirt became part of the Mecca look in the early years. But formalwear aside, once inside, the atmosphere was pure Northern Soul exuberance. The moment the needle hit a rare Motown or uptempo R&B record, the dancefloor would erupt in energy. Dancers of all backgrounds mixed together, united by their love of the music. “Soul brothers and sisters” greeted one another like old friends, and newcomers were quickly welcomed into the fold. Godin noted that even with some 2,000 people crowding into the club on a Saturday night, the Highland Room never felt uncomfortably packed, thanks to its size and layout. There was a joyous camaraderie in the air – fans chatting excitedly about recent record finds, swapping dance moves, and reveling in the shared thrill of hearing “esoteric and way-out soul sounds” played for a rapturous crowd. Unlike traditional dance venues where couples might pair off, at Northern Soul clubs like the Mecca it was normal for dancers to hit the floor solo, each expressing themselves freely to the music. This created a collective yet individualistic vibe: hundreds of people dancing in unison to the beat, but each lost in their own “zone,” performing their personal moves. Many attendees speak of a near-spiritual release on that dancefloor – a euphoria when the crowd, the music, and the moment all synced together.
DJs and the Music Scene
The heart of the Highland Room’s success was its music policy, driven by the passion and knowledge of its DJs. Ian Levine and Colin Curtis, the two best-known resident DJs, became legendary for their role in expanding the Northern Soul soundscape. Levine, especially, was a tireless crate-digger. During the early 1970s he flew to the USA multiple times a year, scouring record stores, warehouses and even abandoned radio station stock for obscure soul records. He brought back hundreds of little-known 1960s soul singles – many of them regional hits from Detroit, Chicago, or New Orleans – that had never been released in the UK. Each week at the Mecca, Levine would debut a handful of *“new” old records, unveiling them to the crowd like precious treasures. On a given Saturday night, a Blackpool regular might hear the latest discovery by Levine or Curtis and be among the first in Britain to dance to it. In fact, several Northern Soul classics were “broken” (i.e. first popularised) at the Mecca thanks to this relentless pursuit of rare vinyl. For example, records like Tony Clarke’s “Landslide” (1967) and Frankie Beverly & The Butlers’ “If That’s What You Wanted” (1967) were virtually unknown until Levine/Curtis introduced them in the Highland Room; they went on to become revered Northern Soul anthems. The same is true for Morris Chesnut’s “Too Darn Soulful” (1967) – its pounding beat and soaring vocals became a Blackpool Mecca favorite, later adopted scene-wide. Even R. Dean Taylor’s “There’s a Ghost in My House” (1966), a Motown-produced floorfiller, owes part of its UK resurgence to plays at the Mecca (that song eventually even made the British pop charts in 1974 on the back of Northern Soul popularity).
Levine and Curtis balanced each other well as DJs. Curtis was known for his deep knowledge of soul music and a DJ style honed since the Twisted Wheel days, while Levine was the brash young crate-digger with a flair for showmanship. Both were consummate tastemakers – they took risks on unproven records, gauged the crowd’s reaction, and shaped the playlist dynamically. They also weren’t afraid to mix in the occasional known hit or an atypical track if it fit the mood. (For instance, Levine might throw on an upfront Motown stomper like the Temptations’ “Cloud Nine” or even an oddball pop-soul track to keep things interesting, though the core of the night was always rare soul.) The Highland Room crowd trusted the DJs implicitly; dancers would rush the stage to catch the title of a new favorite so they could hunt for a copy themselves, though often Levine’s finds were so rare that obtaining an original was nearly impossible. This exclusivity gave the Mecca a certain mystique – it was known that some songs could only be heard within those walls, because no other DJ in the country had them. In effect, the Highland Room became a laboratory for Northern Soul music, where the playlist evolved constantly as new oldies were uncovered.
While Levine and Curtis are the most celebrated Mecca DJs, it’s worth noting the contributions of earlier figures too. In the initial soul nights (circa 1971), Tony Jebb was the primary DJ who established the rare soul ethos. Alongside his colleague Stuart Freeman (and a midweek DJ known as “Billy the Kid”), Jebb laid the groundwork by spinning records like Denise LaSalle’s “Love Reputation” (1968), which was playing as the Highland Room kicked off its “Rare Soul ‘71” night during Dave Godin’s visit. Les Cokell, a veteran of the Manchester soul scene, also helped kickstart the Mecca’s soul policy before Levine took over. These DJs set a tone of discriminating taste and dedication that Levine and Curtis then amplified. By the mid-70s, the duo of Levine & Curtis had made Blackpool Mecca a byword for innovation in Northern Soul DJing, constantly pushing the boundaries of the genre. As one commentator noted, by that time the Mecca was “truly unique – where the eclectic and cutting-edge playlist was ultimately the main attraction”, rather than just the venue or the drugs or the dancing.
Famous Records and Anthems at The Mecca
Many rare soul records spun at the Blackpool Mecca Highland Room went on to become Northern Soul classics. Some of the most famous anthems associated with the venue include:
- Tony Clarke – “Landslide” (1967): A driving uptempo soul stomper discovered by the Mecca DJs and turned into a scene classic. Its explosive chorus became a Highland Room dancefloor favorite.
- Morris Chesnut – “Too Darn Soulful” (1967): An exuberant, brassy track that epitomized the Northern Soul sound. The Mecca crowd embraced it, and its “too darn soulful!” refrain became legendary.
- Frankie Beverly & The Butlers – “If That’s What You Wanted” (1967): A Philadelphia soul gem with soaring vocals. Broken at the Mecca, it became so popular that it was later reissued in the UK due to demand from soul venues.
- R. Dean Taylor – “There’s a Ghost in My House” (1966): A Motown-produced floor-filler (by a white Canadian artist on Motown’s roster) that got massive spins at the Mecca. Its success on the Northern scene led to a UK top 40 chart hit in 1974.
- The Carstairs – “It Really Hurts Me Girl” (1973): This record marked a turning point – a newer early-’70s release with a funkier, mid-tempo groove. When Levine introduced it at the Mecca in 1974, it caused a sensation and signaled the club’s shift toward modern soul.
- Voices of East Harlem – “Cashin’ In” (1973): Another contemporary soul track with a slicker production and social-conscious lyrics. It became a Highland Room anthem in the mid-’70s, loved for its catchy hook and smoother dance beat.
- Charisma Band – “Ain’t Nothing Like Your Love” (1976): A later example of the Mecca’s progressive taste – this funk-infused soul tune (mid-70s vintage) got airplay in the Highland Room, showing how far into modern funk/disco territory the venue ventured.
These songs are just a sample of the “Mecca Magic” – in fact, entire compilation albums have been dedicated to the Highland Room’s musical legacy (for example, The Blackpool Mecca Story CD and The Northern Soul Story Vol. 3: Blackpool Mecca, which collect many of the tracks championed there). Together, these records and others like them formed the soundtrack to the Mecca’s glory years. Attendees still recall the thrill of hearing a fresh import debut on the Mecca’s speakers and watching the crowd erupt as a new anthem was born.
Live Performances and Soul Artists
Although the Highland Room’s focus was on DJ-driven dance nights, live performances by soul artists did occur at the Blackpool Mecca and added to its allure. In the late 1960s and very early 70s, the Mecca’s main ballroom stage featured concerts by major American acts, which Northern Soul fans often attended before or after the club nights upstairs. Blackpool Mecca’s management wasn’t shy about booking big names – Edwin Starr performed live, as did Isaac Hayes, The Miracles, The Chi-Lites, and others during the venue’s ballroom era. For young soul fans in Blackpool, seeing these legends in person was a formative experience that deepened their passion for the music. A live set by a favorite artist could make the atmosphere electric – even if those shows happened in the larger hall, many Highland Room regulars have memories of, say, Edwin Starr belting out “25 Miles” or “Stop Her on Sight” on the Mecca stage and the crowd going wild.
During the peak Northern Soul years, live performances were less frequent in the Highland Room itself (which relied mostly on records), but occasional special events brought artists to perform for the Mecca soul crowd. One famed American performer closely associated with the Northern Soul scene was Major Lance – known for hits like “Monkey Time” and a string of 60s dance classics. Major Lance performed in the UK multiple times; when he appeared at Blackpool Mecca in the early 70s (as he did at other venues like the Torch), it reinforced the venue’s status as a soul hub. Fans would pack in to witness a live rendition of a track they’d been dancing to on vinyl for years. Similarly, artists such as Martha Reeves of the Vandellas and Junior Walker (of the All Stars) are remembered to have appeared at Northern Soul events in Blackpool, giving the faithful a rare chance to see Motown stars live on their doorstep. These performances often left a profound impact: hearing the unmistakable voice of a Motown legend echo through the club, the fans would respond with deafening cheers and even more energetic dancing.
Live appearances also served to validate the scene – they bridged the gap between the rare records and the living artists. For instance, when Betty Wright performed at a rival club (Wigan Casino) in 1974, it was considered a landmark event. Blackpool Mecca’s contribution in this regard was hosting several top soul acts during its run, demonstrating that this supposedly “underground” scene had enough draw to command major talent. Those nights when a live band took the stage added an extra layer of excitement to the Mecca experience, and stories of them have become part of Northern Soul folklore. It wasn’t just about dancing to old records; at the Mecca you might also find yourself applauding a soul star live, then dancing the rest of the night away to the rare records that followed, in a kind of continuous celebration of the genre.
Notable Dancers and Dance Styles
Northern Soul dancing is as famed as the music itself, and Blackpool Mecca’s Highland Room had its own cadre of notable dancers and signature styles. Throughout the 1970s, the dancefloor at the Mecca was dominated by individuals who brought athleticism, originality, and flair to their moves. Like at other Northern Soul venues, dancers at the Mecca would often execute dramatic spins, high kicks, drops to the floor, and even flips as they interpreted the fast beats – mesmerizing onlookers with their stamina and agility. It was common to see acrobatic “backdrops” (falling backwards onto hands and springing up), or splits, and lightning-quick shuffles of the feet. Many wore talc-filled bags on their belts or in their pockets, sprinkling powder on the wooden floor to reduce friction and enable those smooth glides and spins.
One defining aspect of Northern Soul dancing is that it’s typically solo dancing – people dance with each other, but not as couples. This was a departure from the ballroom tradition and part of what made the scene feel so liberating. At the Mecca, a circle would often form around particularly skilled dancers who showed off signature moves. Some personalities became local legends: for example, regulars nicknamed “Boogaloo” or “Tubby” were known on the scene (Dave Godin humorously noted one Mecca devotee who even had the logo of his favorite Detroit record label, Ric-Tic Records, tattooed on his arm – a testament to the dedication and eccentricity of the crowd). These dancers weren’t performing for trophies or formal competitions, but they earned respect and friendship through their passion on the floor.
Interestingly, as the music at Blackpool Mecca evolved in the mid-70s, so did the dominant dance style. Early on, when the Highland Room playlist consisted of the classic fast-tempo 60s soul stompers, the dancing was similar to that at Wigan Casino – very upbeat, with dramatic jumps and spins synchronized to the frantic rhythm. But later in the 1970s, when the Mecca DJs began playing slightly slower and funkier tracks, a more relaxed dance style emerged. The tempo in the Highland Room often dropped from the typical 140 beats-per-minute stomp to a groovier mid-tempo beat, and dancers adapted accordingly. A distinctive shuffling style developed at the Mecca. This shuffle was a smoother, more fluid set of steps and footwork, with dancers incorporating subtle hand movements and body rolls rather than solely focusing on acrobatics. The foot shuffling allowed dancers to stay “in the pocket” of the groove for those funkier tracks, conserving energy but still expressing the music’s soul. Many Mecca regulars embraced this style, while some die-hards initially found it jarring compared to the all-out flips and spins they were used to. In essence, Blackpool Mecca became the birthplace of what came to be known as the “modern soul” dance style, distinct from (though related to) the classic Northern Soul dancing. It was still full of energy and skill, but a notch more restrained and rhythmically varied – perfectly matching the new soul and disco sounds being played.
Fashion was also part of the dance style. In the early 70s, Northern Soul dancers including those at the Mecca often wore the classic attire: baggy Oxford trousers (for ease of high kicks), sports vests or button-down shirts with plenty of patches and sew-on badges (showing allegiance to favorite clubs or slogans like “Keep the Faith”), and smooth leather-soled shoes for sliding. As noted, the Mecca initially even enforced a dress code requiring men to don a tie at the door – so one might see enthusiasts dancing in a loosened tie and collared shirt, with their jacket abandoned on a chair. Over time, as fashions shifted and especially as the Mecca embraced more contemporary vibes, the dress of its patrons evolved. Some began sporting more modern ’70s clubwear: satin shirts, flared trousers, maybe a hint of glam or disco influence in their outfits, especially among those who were into the emerging jazz-funk scene that Colin Curtis would later champion. Still, comfort and practicality for dancing remained key. Flat-soled shoes or boots (often Clark’s or Brogues) were the footwear of choice – essential for executing spins without injury. Many dancers carried a towel to mop sweat after a particularly energetic number, and it was not unusual to see even the most stylish individual end the night with their hair and clothes soaked from exertion.
Ultimately, the dance culture at the Blackpool Mecca was about freedom of expression and camaraderie on the floor. Whether one was doing spins and backflips to a pounding 60s beat or cool foot shuffles to a mid-tempo groove, the goal was the same: dance your heart out. The shared experience of dancing solo-but-together forged strong bonds among the regulars. Lifelong friendships were formed on that dancefloor, simply by recognizing a fellow soul lover’s signature dance move or exchanging a smile mid-spin.
The Mid-1970s Shift in Music Policy
Perhaps the most storied chapter of the Blackpool Mecca’s history is the shift in music policy that occurred in the mid-1970s – a controversial evolution that would have lasting effects on the Northern Soul scene. Up until 1974, the Highland Room (like most Northern Soul venues) focused almost exclusively on American soul records from the 1960s – generally fast-paced Motown-esque dancers, and always records that were commercial failures or obscurities in their day (the credo of Northern Soul being to unearth unknown gems). However, by 1974–75, Ian Levine and Colin Curtis began to intentionally broaden their playlist to include more recent releases, even some from the 1970s, ushering in what came to be called the “modern soul” sound. This was a bold and contentious move.
One catalyst was Levine’s discovery of The Carstairs’ 1973 song “It Really Hurts Me Girl.” This record, with its lush production and proto-disco feel, was dramatically different from the raw 60s stompers the scene was used to. When Levine first spun it at the Mecca, it initially puzzled parts of the crowd – the beat was slower and groovier, lacking the urgent thump of a typical Northern Soul record. But many dancers embraced it, finding its vibe infectious, and it soon became a Mecca anthem. Buoyed by that reaction, Levine and Curtis progressively added more contemporary American soul into their sets: tracks on newer labels and with funk, Philly-soul, or early disco influences. Songs like Voices of East Harlem’s “Cashin’ In” (1973) or Willie Hutch’s “Love Power”, and later even some outright disco or jazz-funk numbers (e.g. Crown Heights Affair, Side Effect, or Dr. Buzzard’s Original Savannah Band) found their way into the Mecca’s mix by the late ’70s. The Highland Room became known for a more eclectic, forward-looking playlist than other Northern venues. As one attendee recalled, by around 1976 the Mecca “had ceased to be ‘just’ a top Northern Soul venue, and had become something truly unique where the eclectic and cutting-edge playlist was ultimately the main attraction”. Levine in particular was also slipping in funky tracks and even early danceable jazz-funk tunes, which further differentiated the Mecca’s sound from Wigan’s oldies-oriented approach.
This shift provoked controversy across the Northern Soul scene. Traditionalists – especially many loyal Wigan Casino attendees – saw it as heresy. To them, Northern Soul was almost a sacred preservation of 1960s soul, and playing anything remotely “disco” or modern was akin to betrayal. Some derided the new Mecca sound as having “sold out to the funk” or sneered that it was “disco shite”, as bitterly phrased by certain soul die-hards. On the other hand, the Mecca DJs and supporters argued that the scene needed to evolve and not become a nostalgia circuit. They viewed Wigan’s steadfast adherence to the oldies as stodgy, calling those fans “soul dinosaurs still living in the past” in the heat of the debate. The disagreement got quite polarized, effectively splitting the Northern Soul community into two camps by the late ’70s. This period is often dubbed the “Soul Wars: Wigan Casino vs. Blackpool Mecca”, highlighting how each club championed a different philosophy.
Out of this schism, a parallel sub-scene emerged: what is now known as Modern Soul (or sometimes “jazz-funk” for the more jazz-influenced branch) was essentially born at the Mecca. Many of the younger or more musically adventurous attendees loved the new grooves and followed Colin Curtis when he began spinning jazz-funk and soul at other venues (Curtis eventually left the Mecca in 1978 to focus on the jazz-funk scene, moving to Manchester’s Rafters club). Meanwhile, Ian Levine continued to push boundaries; not only did he play new music, but he took the provocative step of producing new records aimed at the Northern Soul scene. In 1975 he collaborated with the American group The Exciters to create “Reaching For the Best,” an intentional throwback to the Motown sound, and got it released in the UK – a song he then championed at the Mecca. He also produced tracks like “Love is Not a Game” by Judy Street (a new song by a singer known for a 60s NS classic) and others. Some in the scene appreciated these attempts to keep Northern Soul alive with fresh material, but many others harshly criticized Levine for it. They questioned the authenticity of a “millionaire’s son from Blackpool” manufacturing soul records for a scene rooted in black American music born of struggle. The backlash was strong, and indeed Levine’s moves were one factor that alienated certain purists.
In hindsight, while controversial, the Mecca’s mid-70s music policy shift expanded the horizons of Northern Soul. It introduced fans to a wider spectrum of black music – from proto-disco to funk to jazz-infused soul – paving the way for the UK’s late-70s jazz-funk and soul scene to flourish. It also ensured that Northern Soul didn’t entirely fossilize; it demonstrated an ability to adapt and incorporate the current soul sounds of the time (even if the scene as a whole would later circle back to its oldies focus). The immediate impact, however, was that by 1975–1976 there was a palpable rift: some fans stopped going to the Mecca because they disliked the newer music, sticking to Wigan Casino where the policy was “60s only.” Others did the opposite, preferring Blackpool’s progressive vibe and deriding Wigan’s scene as stagnant. And quite a few, it must be said, were “true soulies” who appreciated both camps and would happily attend all-nighters at Wigan after finishing the evening at Blackpool. In fact, a common practice for many was to spend Saturday evening at the Mecca until it closed at 2 AM, then jump in the car (or the coach laid on) to head to Wigan Casino and dance there until dawn. Despite the feud in rhetoric, the two clubs were symbiotic in that way – each offering a different flavor of Northern Soul experience for those open-minded enough to enjoy it all.
Fashion, Friendships and the Mecca Community
Like any vibrant youth scene, Northern Soul came with its own fashion and social culture, and the Blackpool Mecca played a significant role in shaping these elements. Fashion on the Northern Soul scene was always about balancing style with practicality for dancing. In the early 1970s, Mecca-goers’ attire was very much in line with the broader Northern scene’s Mod roots and club norms. As mentioned, the Mecca initially imposed a dress code (no entry without a tie for gents), so the crowd often arrived looking quite smart. You would see young men in neat shirts, sometimes even jackets, with narrow ties – a carryover from the 60s nightclub culture. Women similarly might wear skirts or dresses in the early years, or tailored trousers, looking modish and chic. However, once inside and dancing, comfort took precedence. It wasn’t long before the jackets and ties were discarded in a heap, and the real “Northern Soul uniform” emerged: sleeveless vests or singlets (to keep cool while dancing), baggy trousers or track pants (allowing maximum movement for leg kicks and splits), and sweat towels at the ready. By the mid-70s, a typical male Mecca dancer might sport a tank-top style vest emblazoned with sew-on patches of various soul club logos, and loose Oxford bag trousers with 24-inch-wide cuffs flapping as he spun. Many also wore at least one club patch or badge – collecting embroidered patches from different venues (Wigan Casino, Cleethorpes Pier, The Torch, etc.) and affixing them to clothing was a popular trend that displayed one’s devotion and club affiliations.
Blackpool Mecca’s crowd had some stylistic distinctions. Some observers noted that the Mecca attendees in the later 70s were a bit more “dressy” or trend-conscious than the hardcore Wigan all-nighter crowd. This might be because the Mecca closed at 2 AM and was in a bustling resort town, so people often mingled in Blackpool’s nightlife before and after – thus they tended to keep a sharper look. Meanwhile, at Wigan (running till 8 AM), practicality often utterly trumped style. As the Mecca embraced newer sounds, elements of contemporary 70s fashion seeped in: silky shirts with wide collars, high-waisted flares, and even early disco styles were not out of place by 1978. And when Colin Curtis started spinning jazz-funk later on, a subset of that crowd began donning more urban-funk looks (think berets, military-style shirts, or afros in the case of black British fans, mirroring the American jazz-funk artists). Still, at heart the attire remained uniquely Northern Soul – almost every outfit was chosen with dancing all night (or at least all evening) in mind, and extravagances were limited to things that wouldn’t hinder a spin or a stomp.
Friendships and camaraderie were the glue that held the Northern Soul scene together, and Blackpool Mecca was renowned as a friendly, welcoming club. Because fans traveled from all over the North to attend, the Mecca became a melting pot of soul enthusiasts. There were regular contingents from Manchester, Merseyside, West Yorkshire, the Midlands and beyond, not to mention the local Lancashire and Blackpool soulies. Many of these people might never have met if not for their shared pilgrimage to the Highland Room every week. The result was a tight-knit network – people forged friendships on the dancefloor, in the queue outside, or on the long coach rides home. Dave Godin wrote about how attending the Mecca made him realize “just how many Soul people there are in Britain” and that they were “far more numerous than we think”. At Blackpool, this collective of the faithful felt like a family. It was common to see dancers greet each other with hugs and nicknames despite living in towns miles apart, their bond formed purely through nights spent dancing shoulder to shoulder.
These friendships extended beyond the club nights. People would exchange addresses and phone numbers (in pre-social media days) to trade records by mail or plan meet-ups at the next soul event. Entire carloads of friends would travel together every weekend – perhaps Blackpool this Saturday, Wigan the next, then a weekender event in Skegness, etc. The Mecca in particular had a reputation for a welcoming atmosphere; even newcomers who walked in alone often left with new friends. A testament to the strength of the friendships is how they endured decades later. One Blackpool regular, John Warren, noted the “ironic” experience of emigrating to Australia in the 1980s only to find the same people he danced with at the Mecca and Casino now organizing soul nights Down Under, reuniting the old crowd an ocean away. The Northern Soul fraternity truly became lifelong for many – rooted in those youthful nights at places like the Mecca.
The broader Northern Soul movement was also influenced by the Blackpool Mecca’s scene in various ways. Culturally, the Mecca helped popularize the idea that Northern Soul was more than just music – it was a lifestyle with its own slang, fashion, dance, and ethos (“Keep the Faith” being the unofficial motto). Blackpool contributed to this by being a high-profile venue in a major tourist town, thus gaining a lot of visibility. The press took note of Northern Soul partly through stories about Wigan Casino but also about Blackpool’s unique scene – for instance, the rivalry between the two made for a compelling narrative in music magazines and fanzines of the time. Moreover, the Mecca’s willingness to experiment musically arguably broadened the definition of Northern Soul. It opened the door for “modern soul” to be accepted on the scene, which in turn allowed the culture to continue into the 1980s and beyond (where strict oldies-only nights might not have attracted new younger audiences). Today, Northern Soul weekends in Blackpool (at venues like the Tower Ballroom and Winter Gardens) still draw thousands, demonstrating that the community and spirit fostered decades ago at the Mecca lives on. Many attendees at these events are reconnecting friends from the Highland Room days, now in their 60s or 70s, who still share that special bond. The fashion endures too – you will still see soulies proudly wearing their vintage club patches or dancing in classic 70s style garb as an homage to the original era.
In summary, the Blackpool Mecca Highland Room not only gave Northern Soul some of its greatest musical moments, but also cultivated a subculture of style, friendship, and collective identity. It showed how a music club could become the center of a close-knit movement, one that outlasted the club itself and continues to connect people across time and space.
Rivalry with Wigan Casino and The Golden Torch
No history of the Blackpool Mecca is complete without discussing its relationship with the other major Northern Soul clubs of the time – chiefly the Wigan Casino and, before that, the Golden Torch in Stoke-on-Trent. The Northern Soul scene in the early 1970s was essentially a circuit of venues, but as each club developed its own loyal following, a sense of rivalry (mostly good-natured, sometimes heated) naturally arose. Blackpool Mecca’s Highland Room provided Wigan Casino with its biggest rival on the scene, especially during the mid to late ’70s when both were at their peak drawing power.
The Golden Torch, which operated all-nighters in 1972–73, actually slightly pre-dated the Mecca’s prominence. Ian Levine and others from Blackpool would often finish the evening at the Mecca and then drive down to the Torch in the early hours to catch the tail end of its all-nighter. The Torch, housed in an old cinema in Tunstall (Stoke), had a legendary reputation and DJs like Keith Minshull and Colin Curtis (before he joined the Mecca) spinning similar rare soul sounds. In fact, Tony Jebb and Colin Curtis “defected” to the Torch in 1972 to play there, leaving Levine to hold the fort in Blackpool. The Torch’s closure by police in mid-1973 (amid drug concerns) was a turning point – it left Wigan Casino, which opened a few months later, and Blackpool Mecca as the two reigning venues. While the Mecca and Torch overlapped, the rivalry was minimal; many saw them as complementary – the Torch for all-nighters and the Mecca for the Saturday evening lead-in, with quite a few fans attending both in one marathon weekend.
It was with Wigan Casino that the famous rivalry truly blossomed. Wigan Casino launched its first all-nighter in September 1973, around the time the Highland Room was finding its stride. The Casino very quickly gained national fame – it was larger (capacity around 1,200 in the main hall), ran from midnight to 8 AM, and soon was being heralded in the press as the Mecca (pun intended) of Northern Soul. Blackpool Mecca, by comparison, didn’t get the same media glory, but among insiders it was absolutely on par with Wigan in importance. Each club had certain advantages. Wigan’s big advantage was literal: it could stay open all night thanks to a unique license, meaning die-hards could dance until dawn. The Mecca had tried and failed to secure an all-night license, so it made do with those “all-dayers” (noon to midnight) occasionally. This difference did sway some fans – the thrill of an all-nighter at Wigan, including the iconic moment of the “3 before 8” last records, was hard to resist. Many Northern Soul fans would thus spend their whole night at Wigan and skip Blackpool. Levine and Curtis attempted to fight that by offering the best music and a more comfortable environment at the Mecca, hoping to offset the shorter hours.
Musically, as detailed above, the two diverged. Wigan Casino under DJ Russ Winstanley stuck to an oldies formula, digging up ever more rare ’60s tracks (and occasionally recycling favorites – some critics say Wigan’s crowd was content to hear the same classics repeatedly). Blackpool’s Mecca under Levine/Curtis pushed into newer sounds and had a reputation for never standing still. This led to the philosophical split often termed the “Soul Wars”. Each side had its loyalists and its jibes for the other: Wigan regulars would mock Blackpool’s for playing “funk” or not being true Northern Soul, while Mecca fans might tease Wigan’s as being stuck in a time warp. As one account puts it, “Many of the early die-hard soulies considered Mecca to have ‘sold out’… whereas Mecca considered the Wigan faithful to be soul dinosaurs”. This rivalry was reflected in differences in dancing style and fashion as well – Wigan dancers tended to continue the flamboyant acrobatics and wore the archetypal baggies and patches ensemble, while Mecca’s crowd evolved a sleeker style in both dance and dress.
Despite the barbs, there was also mutual respect and complementarity. A great many soul fans refused to take sides, attending (as mentioned) both venues routinely. Some even felt that without one, the other would not have thrived – they pushed each other to up their game. The friendly competition spurred DJs to dig deeper for exclusive records to debut to “win” the crowd’s favor. It was almost like two competing soccer teams in the same league – each with its own home stadium and fans, but playing the same game. People still debate which club was better, but in truth both were vital to the scene’s vitality. In later interviews, figures from both camps have acknowledged that the Mecca and Casino together symbolized the peak of Northern Soul, each offering something the other did not. Wigan Casino arguably won out in sheer public notoriety (famously being named “the best disco in the world” by an alleged 1978 Billboard magazine poll, though that story’s veracity is disputed), but Blackpool Mecca won in terms of innovating the music and influencing future trends.
One should also mention that beyond Wigan and the Torch, Blackpool Mecca had contemporaries like the Cleethorpes Pier (which hosted popular all-nighters on the East coast) and Manchester’s Ritz all-dayers, etc., but those were smaller blips relative to the Wigan vs. Mecca narrative. Among the “original four” Northern Soul venues often cited (the Twisted Wheel, Golden Torch, Wigan Casino, Blackpool Mecca), by the late ’70s only Wigan and Blackpool were still active. The Twisted Wheel had closed in 1971, the Torch in ’73. So the torch was passed (no pun intended) to Mecca and Casino, and together they carried Northern Soul through the latter half of the decade.
The rivalry came to a natural end when both clubs closed their doors in the early 1980s. In a twist of fate, Blackpool Mecca and Wigan Casino closed within months of each other in 1981, marking the end of the original Northern Soul era. In retrospect, the rivalry is remembered fondly – an era when North-West England had two powerhouse soul clubs feeding a thriving underground scene. Many who were there now recall attending both clubs with equal affection. The debate over which was “better” has become part of the scene’s lore, often rehashed at reunion nights with a smile. In truth, Northern Soul as a movement was big enough to need both: Wigan Casino provided continuity with the roots, and Blackpool Mecca provided evolution. Together, they kept the faith alive.
Closure and End of an Era
By the end of the 1970s, the golden era of the Blackpool Mecca Highland Room was drawing to a close. The regular soul nights in the Highland Room ran until 1979. By that point, attendance had started to dwindle compared to the peak years. A few factors contributed: the Northern Soul scene itself was contracting somewhat as the original fans aged or as some shifted towards the emerging jazz-funk and disco scenes. Colin Curtis left his Mecca residency in late 1978, which was a blow, as he was a major draw for the crowd. Ian Levine continued a bit longer, but he too eventually moved on to other opportunities (including a new club night at the brand-new Heaven club in London in 1979, where he pioneered the Hi-NRG sound). With the loss of its star DJs and the general scene momentum slowing, the Mecca’s Highland Room could no longer sustain the same weekly soul fervor.
In 1979, the last Northern Soul night took place in the Highland Room, quietly ending an eight-year run. The Blackpool Mecca complex itself limped on for a couple more years in other capacities. The owners (Mecca Leisure) had attempted to repurpose parts of the building – notably opening the Commonwealth Sporting Club in 1977, a large sports facility within the complex that included a 25-table snooker hall, squash courts, and a gym. (Interestingly, snooker champion Steve Davis later hailed that facility as “the best club in the country of its time”.) But these efforts were not enough to make the aging complex profitable. The grand ballroom and other areas had fallen into disrepair due to lack of investment in maintenance. The economic climate of the early 1980s in the UK, and changes in entertainment trends (disco moved to more modern nightclubs, and younger people weren’t going to huge ballroom halls anymore), sealed its fate.
In 1981 the Blackpool Mecca closed its doors completely, ending an era. Northern Soul fans mourned the loss, even as Wigan Casino also closed in December that year (shut down for redevelopment by the council). It seemed like the chapter was definitively closing on the original Northern Soul venues. The Mecca building stood empty for years afterwards, a hulking reminder of its past glory on Central Drive. There were occasional attempts to rekindle something in the space. In the late 1980s, part of the site was briefly turned into a bowling alley again (ironically coming full circle to its 60s roots), but that too didn’t last long. By the 2000s, the structure was derelict and its future uncertain.
Finally, in January 2009, after decades of abandonment, the Blackpool Mecca building was demolished. The demolition sparked sadness and some outrage among nostalgia enthusiasts and cultural historians. A Guardian newspaper article at the time lamented “why can’t the north keep its pop culture heritage?”, pointing out that the Highland Room – one of Northern Soul’s key venues – was being knocked down just as interest in the music had resurged and calls for preservation were voiced. However, any plans to preserve or repurpose the structure had fallen through (a college campus development that was slated for the site was canceled due to funding issues). And so, with the swing of a wrecking ball, the last physical remnants of the Blackpool Mecca were gone. All that remained were the memories and the music.
Legacy and Impact on the Northern Soul Scene
The legacy of the Blackpool Mecca Highland Room looms large in Northern Soul history. Though its lifespan as a soul club was relatively brief (about 1971–1979 for the dedicated soul nights), its impact was profound and enduring. Musically, the Mecca pushed the boundaries of what Northern Soul could be. It gave the scene some of its most beloved classics (via the records broken by Levine and Curtis) and also paved the way for the acceptance of modern soul. The controversy of the Mecca’s mid-70s policy eventually evolved into a complementary split: today the Northern Soul scene happily accommodates both “Oldies” nights focusing on 60s records and “Modern Soul” events that play the 70s/80s crossover tunes – a direct outcome of the debates first sparked at Blackpool Mecca. In other words, the Mecca indirectly fathered a subgenre that has kept the scene fresh. Many of the 1970s records first played at the Highland Room (like “It Really Hurts Me Girl” or “Ain’t Nothing Like Your Love”) are now considered staples in the Modern Soul pantheon and still fill dancefloors.
The DJs that cut their teeth at the Mecca went on to shape music beyond Northern Soul. Ian Levine, for one, became a successful producer in the 1980s, pioneering the Hi-NRG genre of dance music (a high-tempo electronic offshoot of disco popular in gay clubs worldwide). His work with artists like Miquel Brown and his later involvement in producing pop acts (even. Colin Curtis remained a revered figure in UK dance music; after leaving Mecca, he was instrumental in the UK jazz-funk scene and later in the rare groove and house scenes. To this day, Curtis is acknowledged as a bridge between Northern Soul and later dance subcultures – a trajectory that arguably started when he and Levine expanded the playlist in Blackpool. Thus, the Mecca’s influence can be seen rippling outward into other music movements.
For the Northern Soul community, the Blackpool Mecca is hallowed ground. Even after the club closed, its spirit was kept alive through reunion events and countless nostalgic retellings. In the 1990s and 2000s, as Northern Soul nostalgia surged, compilation CDs such as “Reachin’ For the Best: The Northern Soul of Blackpool Mecca” were released, carefully curating the Highland Room’s favorites for old and new fans. These compilations introduced a new generation to the “Mecca sound.” Furthermore, annual weekenders in Blackpool became marquee events for the Northern Soul revival scene – it’s no coincidence that Blackpool’s Tower Ballroom and Winter Gardens were chosen as venues, as a tip of the hat to the town’s heritage. Blackpool, thanks to the Mecca, is entrenched in Northern Soul geography, alongside Wigan and Stoke and Manchester.
Before its demolition, there were efforts to actually use the Highland Room space for revival nights. In the late 1990s, as referenced on soul websites, there was at least one Blackpool Mecca reunion night held in the original building, featuring live performances by groups like The Exciters and The Carstairs (artists whose records were Mecca anthems). Ian Levine even returned to DJ at that reunion, bringing things full circle. Talk of a permanent revival or museum in the old Mecca was floated by enthusiasts, as seen in some hopeful commentary that the Mecca was “the only one of the four iconic soul venues still standing” and perhaps could become a new home for Northern Soul events. Although those plans didn’t fully materialize before the demolition, the very fact they were considered shows how strong the Mecca’s legacy was – decades later, people felt something magical still lingered in that space that could be rekindled.
In terms of mythos and memory, Blackpool Mecca is often cited (alongside Wigan Casino) in books, films, and documentaries about Northern Soul. It might have slightly less mainstream name recognition than Wigan (which had a famous closing night and media coverage), but connoisseurs always give Blackpool its due as the place that kept the scene evolving. The friendly rivalry between the Mecca and Casino has itself become the stuff of legend, discussed in chapters of books like Last Night a DJ Saved My Life (which devotes a section to the “Soul Wars” between the two venues). Any comprehensive history of Northern Soul will highlight the role of the Highland Room in discovering classic records and spawning Modern Soul.
Finally, the personal legacy is immense. Thousands of people have cherished memories of their youth at the Mecca – the friendships forged, the dances danced, the songs heard for the first time that became lifelong favorites. These memories have been passed down in stories, fanzines, and now internet forums where veterans share anecdotes (for example, remembering how “the Highland Room crowd would go mad for that one record” or how someone met their spouse by asking about a patch on their jacket at Blackpool). The Mecca’s legacy lives on every time a DJ drops a Blackpool-era track at a soul night and the dancefloor immediately responds because it’s “Mecca approved.” It lives on in the phrase “Mecca Magic,” which still evokes a special alchemy of music and atmosphere that Northern Soul fans understand as unique to that time and place.
In the end, The Blackpool Mecca Highland Room’s story is one of a club that defined an era and then transcended it. Its physical structure may be gone, but its spirit survives in the music and in the hearts of those who keep the faith. The venue’s name has become shorthand for innovation within Northern Soul – a place that dared to be different while never losing sight of the soulful essence. The legacy is a vibrant one: every spin of a rare soul record, every perfectly executed spin on the dancefloor, and every “Do I Love You (Indeed I Do)” singalong at a weekender has a bit of Blackpool Mecca’s DNA in it. For that, Northern Soul will forever remember the Highland Room as a true soul heaven.
