Crates and Conversations: BBE Store’s Sonic Living Room in London Fields

By Rafi Mercer

New Listing

BBE Store is one of the East End’s most characterful listening spaces — explore more in our London Music Venues guide.

Venue Name: BBE Store
Address: 15 Kingsland Road, London E2 8AA, United Kingdom
Website: bbemusic.com
Phone: +44 20 7613 1740
Spotify Profile: https://open.spotify.com/user/bbemusicofficial?si=02b1b5eebae94259

Step off Kingsland Road and BBE Store pulls you in with that unmistakable blend of vinyl sleeves, wooden crates, and a warm, unfussy atmosphere that feels more like a living room than a retail space. To call it a shop undersells it; this is a cultural node, an East End heartbeat where vinyl isn’t just sold but lived.

BBE — Barely Breaking Even — has been running as a label for decades, putting out records that lean deep into funk, soul, disco, hip-hop, and house. Their catalogue is a map of underground dance and black music culture. The shop in London Fields is an extension of that ethos, not a showroom but a place where the records they’ve pressed, and those they revere, are put into circulation in the most literal way: by being played.

Inside, the layout is a lesson in intimacy. No grand architecture, no design-overload distractions. Just rows of records, turntables that aren’t behind glass but part of the furniture, and a bar space where you can take a seat, sip something, and let the music do its slow work. The store doubles as a listening bar, hosting events where selectors dig through the BBE back catalogue alongside rare imports. The sets are never brash. They’re not meant to dominate your evening like a nightclub would; they’re meant to tune you back into detail. To the hiss before the beat. To the warmth of a horn line given air to breathe.

What makes BBE Store essential to London’s listening culture is its dual identity. By day, crate diggers and collectors turn up to flip through racks, chat with staff, compare notes on pressings. By night, it becomes a communal hub, drinks poured, lights lower, and the listening takes on its full role as ritual. There’s a natural rhythm to it — the ease of hanging back, hearing something you didn’t know you needed, then asking someone about it. That’s the BBE magic: music as a bridge, not just a backdrop.

The curation is uncompromising but welcoming. It’s not a gatekeeper’s den but a selector’s playground. A Brazilian reissue might slide into a rare Detroit house twelve, followed by a dusty funk 45. You never quite know what corner of the world you’ll be taken to, but you trust the room enough to go. That trust is crucial, and BBE has earned it by being both label and curator for so long.

There’s also a democratic quality to the space. Unlike more rarefied audiophile bars, where systems are revered almost religiously, BBE keeps its gear approachable. The sound is clean, warm, and true, but the vibe is less shrine, more social circle. The speakers are tuned to the room, filling it with depth without demanding silence. You can talk, you can lean back, you can let the music flow around conversation. But every so often, a track lands that quiets the table, a collective pause as everyone leans into the groove. That’s when you realise you’re not just in a record shop or a bar, but in a space designed for listening in its purest sense.

BBE Store anchors itself in community. Independent labels, DJs, producers, and collectors orbit it, and on any given evening the room might feel more like a family gathering than an event. In a London where pace and polish often take over, BBE’s contribution is calm authenticity. It’s rougher around the edges, yes, but that roughness is exactly what lets you breathe here. You don’t have to arrive polished; you just have to arrive open.

In the growing constellation of London’s listening bars, BBE Store holds a special role: the bridge between the record shop tradition and the new wave of audiophile sanctuaries. It’s the kind of place where collectors bring their kids, where DJs off-shift still hang around to hear what’s spinning, where tourists stumble in and leave with a record that’ll soundtrack their trip. It’s less about exclusivity and more about continuity, ensuring that London’s deep vinyl lineage is not only preserved but made alive, night after night.

For those who care about the future of listening spaces, BBE Store is instructive. It proves you don’t need architectural grandeur or million-pound rigs to create a sonic sanctuary. You need community, curation, and care. The music will do the rest.

The city outside rushes on — buses grind, sirens call, Shoreditch cocktails clink. Inside BBE, a hi-hat ticks, a bassline rolls, and for a while the world folds into sound. That’s what keeps people coming back. Not just the records they buy, but the sense that here, in this small room, listening still matters.

Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters. For more stories from Tracks & Tales, subscribe, or click here to read more.

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