A woman dressed as Queen Victoria is strolling around Albert’s Schloss, an enormous new party palace in the heart of the West End. Vic is about to wander into Soho to distribute golden tickets, which offer VIP entry to various shindigs at the bar in July. These might be the sort of do’s to feature burlesque, or sword swallowing, or possibly fortune-telling drag queens who prophesise futures by reading whatever’s left on diners’ plates after eating. Maybe all three.
Albert’s Schloss, named after Prince Albert, is a Northern import that opens next week on Piccadilly Circus, and the fourth of an extremely successful group of Bavarian-themed bier halls (food is also served). The first launched in Manchester almost a decade ago, and three years ago went to Birmingham, then Liverpool. Each city has revelled in the frivolity of these enveloping spaces, where dancing on tables is encouraged and live music continues into the early hours. The Manchester site is famous for shifting more Pilsner Urquell than any bar outside the Czech Republic.
But London is the most ambitious Schloss yet, an £8 million project in a two-storey site within the Trocadero, itself a storied venue that was a haven of debauchery in the 1800s, and has provided entertainment in whatever form since. At one time, it was a Lyons Corner House, home of the first Wimpy Bar in the country. A recent occupant was the Rainforest Cafe. Like it, Schloss is unapologetically thematic. But it’s not for kids, nor is it budget by design. Instead, it offers an amalgamation of Bavarian taverns, Alpine restaurants, European cabaret clubs and Victorian music halls, each spruced up, glittered to the hilt, given a welcome dose of modernity and progressiveness in true Bohemian fashion. You come to eat, drink, dance.
In the London Schloss are 150 members of staff, more when counting the performers, some of whom are on stage, others wandering freely about the place handing out shots of schnapps or bursting into operatic verse. One of these is singer Lucie Meiselle who, after 15 years up north, is returning to London to oversee the latest launch as creative director. Her dog, Greta Thunberg, is running amok as we talk in the tavern on the ground floor. “She’s named after Greta because she picks up litter,” says Meiselle.
Meiselle might be Schloss personified, having joined as an actor after completing her performing arts degree. Today she maps out the entertainment in each site, from go-go dancers to raucous disco-punk nights, and still sings herself from time to time.
“First up is punk showgirls,” she says. “We take ideas and flip them on their head. It’s not just glam, there’s always an edge to it. We’re alternative and sometimes cheesy, but genuine too. Everything is done with a sense of humour. It’s traditional Northern hospitality — warm, spirited, fun. Everyone is welcome: inclusivity is important.
“We have something called Kunst Cabaret, which is inspired by 1920s Berlin, by sexual revolution. It’s tongue in cheek and full of surprises. Every Wednesday, at 10pm, a marching band will come through the doors. Or there’s ‘baby grandslam’, where duelling pianists do a sort of vintage showtime.” Around her, Schloss feels every bit a Bavarian tavern with its fire pit, vintage Alpine artwork, and wood just about everywhere. Schloss serves the “Munich big six” — pints start at £6.90 for a premium beer, less for lager — including Hofbrau, founded by the Duke of Bavaria in 1589, and Paulaner, a German brewery that produces 400 million pints of its lager every year.
Downstairs, beer remains a focal point thanks to a barrelling central bar but it is here that Schloss starts to blend drinking den with house of excess. There is capacity for well over 600 and entertainment every day. Across 18,000 sq ft is a restaurant, a schnapps bar, and a neon-clad, hi-tech stage in front of long communal tables. There’s a separate pub on a raised stage overlooking it all called Ludwig’s Tavern. It is home to various parlour games, top-shelf spirits and manoeuvres itself into quieter corners of the building. These are the tables hidden from the light shows, the giant glitter ball, with the drinkers on high stalls waiting for a singsong with a Belle Epoque-era Parisian socialite cast into the here and now, who might be found chatting on a flip phone and holding a chihuahua.
Every type of person you can imagine will be in our team — it’s super diverse. Basically, it’s a party… for huns, for the LGBTQ+ community, for everyone
Explore for long enough and there’s a table in an old ski gondola; wander beneath the DJ booth and find a traditional photo booth, or, in the women’s toilets, something even jazzier: a large statue around which all cubicles reside. One of these has two lavatories, disco lights and a musical soundtrack.
“When the restaurant closes at 10pm, it’s a free for all,” says Meiselle. “Dancing on tables is encouraged — if people don’t, we’re doing something wrong. Every day of the week has something happening. Bands. Dancers. Plus-sized performers. Every type of person you can imagine will be in our team — it’s super diverse. Basically, it’s a party… for huns, for the LGBTQ+ community, for everyone.”
As we tour, general manager Roísín Finnerty, who has also returned home to London after looking after the Manchester site for six years, discusses the particulars of the place. For one thing, the building enjoys a historic, increasingly rare 3am licence — “we close at 2am officially but can stay open later if there’s cause to” — and as much emphasis is placed on the food as the “vibes”. Schloss is an all-day affair, opening for breakfast and only closing early on Sundays (10.30pm).
“As much as it’s fun, the point is that you’re in a safe pair of hands when you come in,” Finnerty says. “We make everything in-house and have our own bakery. Our breakfast pastries are a big deal. We do good coffee.
“We’re the biggest importer of German sausages in the UK. And we try to be really affordable. There’s a generosity of spirit here. We go for it — if we look out into the crowd and people look like they need a little boost, we’ll give them a shot.”
As for the menu, it flits from “haus breads” (£4) to a dish called “12-hour Munich pork”, where the meat is braised, cooked low-and-slow (£15 with fries). The £24.50 “sausage fest” is notable, too, thanks to its parade of German sausages, all of which come with potato salad, sauerkraut, pickles and accompanying sauces. Elsewhere are schnitzels, burgers, toasted sandwiches and pretzels. It is a colossal operation. Schloss sells 250,000 shots of schnapps a year, and about 1.2 million pints; Spoons has plus-800 pubs and sells 50 million. There are “push for Pilsner” buttons in the booths. As for the hotdogs, they fly out with similar fervour — more than 50,000 a year — whether doused in chilli, cheese or with only mustard as a companion.
All this might beg the question: while cities such as Manchester and Liverpool, musical and community-centred as they are, cry out for such conviviality and camaraderie, does such a dramatically feel-good place on the periphery of old Soho fit?
Finnerty concedes she’s unsure how “London will react” to Schloss, but she’s optimistic. A little Northern friendliness and charm never hurt anyone. “When you come in, the difference to some places might be stark. It’s just so nice. As the night goes on, the music goes up, and you sort of lose yourself to it. It becomes a party. What Schloss does happens in constituent parts of London, but you can’t get everything under one roof. So if there’s a gap to fill there, we’re plugging it.”
It might be reasonable to attest that Piccadilly is “having a moment”. It is around the corner from another high-profile recent(ish) opening, the Devonshire, which also trades in proper hospitality; in warmth. Finally, the masses spilling out after last orders will have somewhere to go: off they go from Guinness to Bavarian lager.
It really is cavernous; one cheerful character tells me the Schloss bars can be a bit of a “black hole” and says: “You can go in for breakfast, for a brunch meeting, and the next thing you know you’re at the bar, it’s 1am, and you haven’t phoned home.”
