Nestled away in an unassuming pocket of Woodhouse, The Chemic Tavern plays host to what is arguably the most vibrant open mic night in Leeds. Known eponymously as the Chemic Open Mic Night, it’s run by fellow musician Rob Langley, who, among other things, plays the lute, once toured with a North African reggae band, and has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of random music facts. He often intersperses his introductory spiel with a peppering of improv comedy, puns, and anecdotes, keeping the evening light-hearted and always spontaneous. Every Thursday night, elemental talents from Leeds and beyond gather in the pub’s niche events room to concoct a frothy mixture of music, poetry, and good vibes, which regularly spills over into the barroom, and sometimes the street. It’s needless to say the night is well-attended, and in the time I’ve been going I’ve never known it to be less than full, though it’s often brimming to the top like a well-poured pint, which invariably leads to a little spillage (the good kind, of course). Being filled up is one thing (and I’m sure we can all agree it’s agreeable), but, like the old idiom, quality over quantity is what really matters – the Chemic has both.
The Chemic is a bustling hotspot for some of the most talented songwriters, performers, and up-and-coming artists in Leeds right now. I recently likened it to that storied Greenwich Village scene of the 1960s – when Bob Dylan “burst on the scene already a legend” – albeit in a twenty-first century, cosy British pub setting. What I’m driving at here is that if you’re serious about developing as an artist in any way, Chemic is a great place to level-up and get realistic about your abilities in a friendly and welcoming environment. You might call it a sort of laboratory in which musicians conduct all kinds of zany experiments, often with unexpected results, but always within that electrifying, nerve-tingling atmosphere of the dimly-lit backroom.
In a world increasingly run by machines and madmen—a world in which many of us might wonder what the point of it all is—open mics are the vanguard of real, live music and good-old-fashioned human interactions. Here is a place at the very edge of the known world where free spirits can gather, reconnect, and remind one another of what really matters – what has mattered to us since time immemorial: connection. Here we come together to share our talents, creations, urban hymns. Here we come to find a voice for our deeply suppressed yearnings to reach up for something higher than ourselves, something more than our monotonous lives. That’s why these live music venues are crucial – they are not simply light entertainment, they are a resistance!
But I am getting carried away on a wave of revolutionary rhetoric. Let’s take a look inside The Chemic Tavern, instead…
Try to imagine walking through the pub’s front door, past the sign that warns you to “Beware of the cat,” and into the cavern-like ambience of the back room. Although the room is small and intimate, it’s well set-up for performance, with a clearly marked stage area. On the stage you’ll see the pub piano, which has apparently survived two world wars and reminds those who play it to “treat me with respect” – something we can all relate to. As well as the piano, the stage is always set up with several microphones (both instrument and voice) and a guitar amp.
Part of the reason the sound system works so well, indeed the main reason it does, is thanks to Kameron, the sound engineer who is there every week to aid Rob in running the night. He has a good rapport with Rob and they often have a bit of back and forth banter running between them. One of the greatest confidence boosters for me is that little touch of reverb on the vocal mic that gives the singers such presence – it means that you don’t have to sing your heart out to be heard. There’s also a monitor, so you have an idea what you yourself sound like – anyone who has experience of performing on stage will know there’s nothing worse than not being able to hear your own voice!
The high standard of the night is upheld by the discerning ear of Rob, who is a strong guitar player, and good all-round musician. He also has a tattoo of the opening eight bars of Sylvius Leopold Weiss’ Fantasie in C minor on his right forearm, showing that at heart, he’s a musical aficionado (nerd, in normal speak). He’s been compèring the night for around four years as of March 2026 and, despite the demands of his full-time job, always manages to be there. In his own words: “I was worried about the future of the [open mic] with nobody else taking over when the ex-manager (who’d previously run it) left… There didn’t seem to be anyone else willing to run the open mic… so I said I’d do it.” I think anyone who helps to keep live music venues like this running deserves a medal (or a knighthood) – and I can honestly say, he does a great job.
“I decided to take all the things I’d disliked about previous open mics and do everything I could to remove those things.”
The dynamics and politics of the night are something Rob takes into careful consideration. He says that “When I took it on I decided to take all the things I’d disliked about previous open mics and do everything I could to remove those things.” Some of these things included preferential treatment for mates, a lack of musical diversity, and gender and minority disparity. He earned points on my feminist radar when he told me that he wanted to “break the illusion that it’s a boy’s club and encourage more women to perform, as I was very conscious in the early days how poor we were doing in terms of gender parity among our performers.” Somewhat amusingly, Rob counts pianists as a sort of musical minority and he says “they aren’t as numerous as guitarists and are a good way of mixing the night up.” He is generally very accommodating when it comes to giving out slots, especially to newcomers who he tries to make sure “feel welcome, aren’t ignored and are slightly more likely to get the slot they ask for.”
In terms of running order, he likes to make it an “enjoyable experience for regular folk who come to the pub, and not just for the performers… I try to work out a running order that makes for interesting listening, where there’s a sort of flow to it all and similar acts aren’t too close together.” In general, it’s advisable to get there around 7.30pm to ensure you get your name down on the list and find a comfortable seat, if that’s your thing. A typical night has room for about 18 performers, though, depending on other factors, he sometimes manages to get up to 20. “All these considerations mean that, sometimes, I have to be accepting of the fact that I’m going to disappoint people. It’s not an easy job working out the running order, and I don’t always get it right,” he told me. The performance rules are two songs or ten minutes max. Of course, Rob allows some flexibility for this rule and for the most part it seems to work itself out naturally. I’ve never seen him remove anyone from the stage, though there are certainly the odd occasions when you wish he would!
“It’s not something that comes naturally to me, to stand in front of a room full of people and crack shit jokes.”
One of the challenges for him, though I think he manages it really well, is what to do between acts. Anyone who knows Rob and has attended the open mic will know that he’s fond of spontaneous humour, often concocting jokes and puns on the spot. Sometimes, these turn out really quite funny, and other times, in his own words: “It’s not something that comes naturally to me, to stand in front of a room full of people and crack shit jokes, and it’s not something I particularly enjoy doing, but it’s slightly better than awkward silences.” As well as what to say between acts, the job of managing each performer’s entry and exit from the stage can be a precarious juggling act at times, and though most people tend to get on and off without any hitch, there’s invariably the odd performer who takes five minutes setting up. For this reason, he usually makes a point of asking performers to have guitars tuned and ready before getting on stage. If you’re thinking of attending the night and have an especially intricate set up, it might be worth considering how you can streamline that process to make it as painless as possible for yourself and everybody else – tuning your guitar on stage feels like sitting in a forest surrounded by hungry wolves.
“Something else that’s been really gratifying has been to see people meet for the first time at the open mic and form lasting friendships as a result.”
Rob tells me it’s been a gratifying experience to see tangible results since he started running the open mic, though stresses it’s been down to the hard work and commitment of everybody involved. The pub’s managers, the bar staff, the loyal patrons – all of them have helped to bring what was at one time a foundering ship back on course. “Now the place appears to be thriving, there are gigs and events on most Fridays and Saturdays, and it’s turned back into the local musicians’ haunt that it used to be when I first started coming.” If I am to continue my “ship” analogy, Rob must at least accept he’s an indispensable member of the crew, and his weekly entertainment efforts have helped to raise the morale of his “shipmates” during the voyage. Showing a rare sentimental side, he finished by adding “Something else that’s been really gratifying has been to see people meet for the first time at the open mic and form lasting friendships as a result.”
Although there’s a good regular crowd, there’s definitely an influx of new faces and I’ve met people travelling from Europe, America, India, and China, to name a few, whilst being there. The Chemic is popular with the local student population, also, as it’s right in the heart of the main student area. The convenient location of the pub makes it easy for people to get to, both locally and from further afield as it’s only a five-minute walk to the main bus routes. From my experience of open mics in Leeds, and I’ve done quite a few over the years, this one definitely has the best attendance, the most diversity, the strongest sense of camaraderie among its patrons, and an incredibly high level of performers from a wide range of genres. I’ve heard the second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 played on piano, I’ve heard folk musicians, I’ve heard didgeridoos – hell, I’ve even seen a magician! And then there was that time I saw a woman brushing her teeth with an electric toothbrush, though, admittedly, that was impromptu and will probably never be seen again this side of oblivion.
To name a few of the standout performers, make sure to keep your eyes and ears open for Filipe Massumi, a Brazilian cellist and songwriter living in Dewsbury; Phil Widger, a prolific song writer with “simple, catchy songs, very clever lyrics and a subtle sense of humour,” (Rob’s words); and my personal favourite, Valerie, a songwriter and pianist with an indelible signature sound, haunting voice, and beautiful lyrics. These are just a few of the great performers that regularly attend and, in all honesty, everyone has something unique to offer to the musical formula that makes Chemic such an explosive night. If you’re looking for a no-nonsense, democratically run open mic night, I highly recommend you come along, if only to see me! But seriously, as long as you’re not Adolf Hitler, or an electric toothbrushist, you’d be more than welcome to come along and “show us what you got” to paraphrase that Rick and Morty episode. The beauty is, we won’t burn your planet to cinders if we don’t like your song, though let’s be honest, a beautiful world depends on great music after all.
To summarise:
The Chemic Open Mic
Every Thursday from 8pm (room open and signup from 7.30)
Chemic Tavern, 9 Johnston St, Woodhouse, Leeds LS6 2NG
Compère: Rob
2 songs/10 minute slots
Good for solo artists and/or small groups/bands