The Hidden Groove: Nine Lives’ Basement Sound Sanctuary in London Bridge

By Rafi Mercer

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Nine Lives is one of London’s most respected listening bars — explore more in our London Music Venues guide.

Venue Name: Nine Lives
Address: 8 Holyrood Street, London SE1 2EL, United Kingdom
Website: ninelivesbar.com
Phone: +44 20 7403 8403
Spotify Profile: N/A

There’s a particular kind of quiet you get in a London basement. It isn’t silence — not in this city — but a dampening of the world above. The rumble of the street turns into a low murmur, footsteps blur into the walls, and all that’s left is the space you’ve just stepped into.

At Nine Lives, tucked away on Holyrood Street, the descent is deliberate. The door gives little away; you catch the faint hum of bass, the suggestion of warmth. Then you’re down a short flight of stairs, and suddenly you’re somewhere else entirely — part cocktail bar, part listening room, wholly self-contained.

The first thing that strikes you is the layout. It’s compact, yes, but every seat feels chosen for both sightline and sound. The bar curves just enough to make conversation easy; tables are tucked in without feeling cramped; the lighting lands in soft pools rather than one blunt glare.

Nine Lives takes its music seriously without making a fuss about it. The system is custom-built for the space — carefully positioned speakers, a subtly integrated sub, and the sort of analogue warmth you only get from a selector who’s thinking three tracks ahead. You feel the bass in your chest, but never as an intrusion; the treble is sharp enough to catch cymbal shimmer, but never brittle.

Music here is seasonal — not in a gimmicky way, but because the cocktail menu is too, and the two are designed to work together. A summer night might pair a watermelon-rum highball with Balearic drift and golden-hour reggae. A winter weekend might bring a fig-infused bourbon drink alongside deep funk, slow disco, and the kind of soul cuts that feel like they’ve been waiting for the right room.

On themed nights, guest selectors take the controls. One evening in March, I caught a set where roots reggae bled into 1970s Philly soul, each transition like an unspoken nod between friends. In between, the bar team slid out drinks with names that felt like little riddles — “Moby Dick”, “Cosmo-naut” — flavour profiles layered with the same care as the tracklist.

What stands out at Nine Lives is the respect for balance. The volume is set so you can talk without leaning in, but if you stop speaking for a moment, the detail is all there — a bassline’s slink, a hi-hat’s breath, the curve of a vocal line. It’s a listening bar that doesn’t need to put the words on the wall; the room knows it, and acts accordingly.

The crowd is mixed — locals who’ve made it a Thursday habit, travellers tipped off by someone who knows, bartenders and chefs stopping by after service. There’s an unspoken etiquette: phones stay pocketed, laughter runs warm, nobody shouts over the music. If you’re here, you’ve chosen to be part of the room’s mood.

The decor tells its own story — reclaimed wood, flickers of greenery, bottles on the backbar that double as conversation starters. You get the sense that every choice was made for a reason, whether to absorb sound, catch the eye, or just make someone smile at two in the morning.

On my most recent visit, the night closed with a slow-burn soul track I hadn’t heard in years. Glasses were drained, coats shrugged on, but nobody moved for the stairs until the fade-out was complete. That’s Nine Lives in a nutshell: the world upstairs can wait; the song comes first.

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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