Nick Harland

Maurice Champeau is leafing through a scribbled notebook of upcoming events at Sheffield’s Crookes Social Club. It reads more like Pitchfork’s Best New Music section than the calendar for a former working men’s club: among the names playing are political post-punkers Deadletter, NYC cool kids Bodega and psychedelic canine ravers Fat Dog. ‘Who the fuck are they?’ shrugs Maurice. These are possibly not the kind of bands you’d expect to be playing a traditional working men’s club in a suburb of west Sheffield. But events like these are increasingly familiar at places like Crookes. Faced with dwindling revenues and ageing members, managers like Maurice are finding new ways to keep social clubs relevant in 2024. ‘On my first Saturday night here they were sending a bucket around collecting donations to pay the electric bill,’ he tells me over a cuppa in the club’s newly-refurbed side room. Maurice had worked in the pub trade and as a music agent for several years before Crookes got in touch. ‘I agreed with the committee that I’d come along and look at the business for six months and give them a business plan of how to restructure it, rebuild it and move it forward. Ten years later, I’m still here.’ Photograph: Crookes Club Maurice started by reaching out to the sizeable student population in Crookes, hosting medic meetings, gaming groups and Zumba classes – though students were hesitant to come at first. ‘They didn’t want to come here because it’s a working men’s club, and some w