
The reports of Corsica Studios’ death may have been somewhat exaggerated.
The nightlife venue took to Instagram in an attempt to clarify the situation, after stories that it was being forced to shut its doors due to rising costs, dwindling profit margins, and noise-complaints from neighbours.
It was an easy story to believe, after all. That’s pretty much the trifecta of doom that looms over every decent bar, pub and club in London currently. Why wouldn’t it be coming to bear on a beloved venue that’s been operating under the railway arches of Elephant & Castle for two decades.
But according to the Corsica Studios team, that’s not quite right. There have not been any noise complaints from local residents, they said, nor are the council or developers forcing them out.
Instead, in order to “preserve the venue in some form” it will close its doors in March 2026 in order to bring about, somehow (the details are still hazy) a “refurbished sound-proofed venue, with a solid long-term lease and a range of legal measures that will give the venue protection from any potential noise complaints from surrounding neighbours”.
“Why should Corsica Studios be the one that has to change?”
A rare London good news story, then? It might be too soon to say. It’s positive to see that a club venue can work with the local authorities and private developers to — hopefully — preserve the niche its carved for itself.
But why should Corsica Studios be the one that has to change? It’s an integral part of the fabric that made the area so attractive to developers in the first place. My other favourite club from that era, Passing Clouds in east London, was forced to close nine years ago by property developers.
Is this the true meaning of being a Londoner, to forever mourn places closed down in areas you’ve also been priced out of?
Hopefully the refurbishment will be on Corsica’s terms, although I admit I am already nostalgic for the sweaty dancefloors and terrible toilets. When I was new to London in my early twenties I would ride the Bakerloo over from north London and party under the arches until the Tube started running again.
Then I moved south of the river to Vauxhall and later Kennington, delighted to be just around the corner from one of my favourite venues. It wasn’t just proximity that appealed — I believe Corsica Studios has the nicest door staff in the whole city. I haven’t been for a while, admittedly; my DJ friends love their 7am sessions but I can neither get up that early nor stay up that late any more.
My prime time living it up in E&C was only a decade ago, but I can’t get over how much the area has changed — and not in a good way. My housemates and our extended circle of friends, many of whom hailed from Columbia originally at met through working in the same hotel, introduced me to the best salsa bars in the area and took the piss out of my accent when ordering arepas hungover the next day.
Now the Latin American community that organically coalesced around the area has been gutted by re-development, with the Elephant & Castle shopping centre shuttered in 2020, its traders evicted. In its place, build-to-rent towers — the last thing literally any Londoner needs, unless they are a large-scale landlord out to make a profit.
The creep of gentrification began even before I got there; the Heygate estate was demolished in 2014, replaced by Lendlease’s shiny Elephant Park. It may have won awards for “placemaking” (shudder) but residents of these supposedly “affordable” leasehold flats are being fleeced by skyrocketing service charges. The cultural casualties of all this redevelopment just keep on climbing, as the rental and housing crisis only gets deeper.
“Developers move in, followed by new residents who are somehow baffled the buzzy area they bought into has an audible hum”
Looming over it all is the Strata SE1, the strange-looking skyscraper with three white elephant wind turbines that foreshadowed the whole sorry situation we find ourselves in. Those turbines were intended to be a symbol of clean energy growth for Southward, but they never run. Because operating them causes noisy vibrations that disturb the occupants.
I’m heartened to hear Corsica Studios haven’t had noise complaints, but those legal protections can’t come fast enough. All over our city, our best grassroots venues are threatened when developers move in, followed by new residents who are somehow baffled the buzzy area they bought into has an audible hum.
Pubs such as the Fat Badger in Notting Hill are hit with unsubstantiated noise complaints, racking up huge legal costs at a time when publicans are struggling to keep afloat. The Moth Club in Hackney, one of our best grassroots music assets, is under seemingly constant threat from planning proposals that, if approved, would threaten its very existence. As its general manager put it succinctly last year: "Without being able to make noise, we can't make money.”
Over the summer, Labour promised it would reform planning licensing laws, making it a legal requirement for developers to soundproof their new buildings. But our erstwhile mayor Saiq Khan has been promising to enshrine soundproofing rules for new builds near venues since at least 2017. Perhaps his new Nightlife Taskforce could chivvy it along, with urgency.
If the noise complaints keep coming, the venues keep closing, and the reason we all want to live in London in the first place — proximity to fun at all hours — gets flushed down the toilet and out to sea with all the Thames Water turds. Lord knows we don’t live here for the fabulously high salaries and affordable housing offerings.