The Catweazle Club
The Catweazle Club - A Eulogy
Dear Friends,
I am writing to you, after a long radio silence, to share the news - if the algorithm will allow - that The Catweazle Club is, alas, no more. I thought it deserved to be marked as official, rather than just to fade away.
I began Catweazle in Oxford, in October 1994, after arriving there from London and looking for somewhere I could creatively call home: a safe, listening space, no microphones, anything goes… this came on the back of a major transition for me, going into my first Saturn Return, aged 27, and in search of a fresh start. I am now ending Catweazle as I emerge from my second Saturn Return, and stepping into another new beginning. It feels about right, if also poignant and sad. Thirty years of doing anything is a right proper chunk of time, and running Catweazle was without doubt one of the most profound and privileged chapters of my life.
From very humble beginnings in the snug of the Vicky Arms in Jericho, in a pre-digital age, to an even humbler end - being kicked out of not one but two venues (on our 30th and 31st birthdays respectively - with no word before or since as to the reasons why) somewhere in the middle of all that we had a LOT of very good times indeed, and it is these that I will forever hold in my heart.
After being suddenly evicted from our penultimate venue at the end of our joyous 30th Birthday celebration - and the particularly brutal way in which it was done - I was feeling pretty crushed. But after a couple of months, I picked myself up, and found another venue in Oxford (which is never easy), where we ran for a further year.
As some of you may know, three years ago I moved with my wife to Bristol, and hunting for venues in Oxford became even more difficult, even if though I still felt deeply connected to my community and life there, and to Catweazle.
I launched a new Catweazle Club in Bristol, which, happily, was an instant, heart-warming success. The night after that inaugural session was Catweazle’s 31st birthday in Oxford. At the beginning of that evening I was again dismissed, and again with no warning or explanation, before nor since. This lack of communication - cancelling, I think they call it - has been for me both bewildering and devastating.
But Catweazle was never really about the physical venues, necessary though they were. It was about us co-creating a space where people could take risks, be vulnerable, feel safe, share passion, and come to belong to a vibrant and creative community.
Despite the Bristol session - which ran for a further 6 months, until April - being genuinely lovely and proving popular, my heart was just no longer in it, and I couldn’t muster the necessary energy to start up all over again from scratch, in a new town, and hope to build anything of the stature of that which I had created in Oxford over three decades.
And so, not to be too Magdalen (pronounced maudlin) about it, this is Catweazle’s eulogy.
She was as much yours as anyone's, and so if Catweazle touched your life in any way, I'd love to hear your memories, stories, photographs, and reflections. Please share them via mother.catweazle@gmail.com, which I’ll then put up on the website, www.catweazleclub.co.uk, so we can celebrate together what we created over thirty remarkable years, and truly honour the old girl upon her passing.
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The Catweazle Club 1994-2026
For over 30 years, I was lucky enough to witness, at very close quarters, countless thousands of performers and performances, nearly all of which, with a little nudging (and/or whisky), I could probably recall. And all of which affected me in some meaningful and abiding way. I sat at the front, enthralled, for every session, week-in-out, for over 30 years, moved by the artistry, the vulnerability, the joy, the generosity, with the whole breadth of human emotion and experience on display. Wow, that really was an incredible ride!
It was this - and the fact that so many of you just kept on coming, either to take part or to be a part of it - that kept me, and it, going for so long, even though running an event like that certainly had its challenges. And had we not been moved on in the way we were, I imagine I would have just kept going, happy to have become the wizened old wizard of the scene. But it was not to be..
That first dark, windy Autumn night in the snug of the Victoria Arms in Jericho, I still remember vividly. There were maybe 15-20 people in there, and we all took turns to share something for the rest. A song, a poem, a story. It was an enchanting night, and we all agreed to come back the next week. And the next, and the next…for 30 years.
Some venues/eras stick in my mind as having been especially golden periods. The first being 3 years at Jude The Obscure on Walton Street (1995-1998), under the beneficent eye of legendary landlord, Noel Reilly. In there, it was always packed, always attentive, always buzzing, and gloriously anarchic.
We then put in a 6-year shift at Northgate Hall on St Michaels Street, opposite the Oxford Union (1998-2004). This was a former Methodist chapel, and you could lift up a trap door on the stage, and there was the original, Victorian baptism font beneath. Not many people know that.
But my and many others’ most abiding chapter was undoubtedly the 15 years we spent in the Lounge of the old East Oxford Community Centre (2004-2019).
Candles on the tables and on the piano, incense smoke spiralling in the spotlights, cushions on the floor, and the performers in the corner. There was - crucially - no stage. I have lost count of how many amazing, rammed, joyous and chaotic sessions we held in that space, also, alas, now gone. Is was like a dream, coming off the Cowley Road and into that room to witness and share all that we did.
The tender poets, the incredible bands, artists, musicians - playing every conceivable instrument (and some inconceivable ones, also), singers, songwriters, dancers, nutters, ranters, ravers, comedians, magicians, storytellers. If humans do it, they did it at some point on a Thursday night in that room. Often at the same time, or so it sometimes felt to me.
I had the best job in the world, hosting and compering those nights at The Catweazle Club. I know how great a night it often was, and also how singularly well I did that job - not to everyone’s taste, I’m sure, but I can’t help that. A large part of me misses it - even though I’ve moved on and no longer feel as at home in that role as I once did. But, boy did I love it for the time that I did it, and will be ever grateful for the endless ways in which it deeply enriched my life.
The pin-drop silent, packed audiences, holding their collective breath for a first-time performer, musicians finding collaborators who became lifelong friends, strangers arriving alone and leaving as part of a community. The people who met at Catweazle, who got married, who had kids who then grew up attending or performing there. That’s the real shit.
Over three decades, it was my profound privilege to watch artists develop, friendships begin, bands form, romances blossom, confidence grow, and countless people discover a voice - and a community - they didn't know they had.
It would be impossible and meaningless for me to list a single stand-out performance - there were just way too many extraordinary moments - thousands upon thousands - but the whole mass of it merges in my mind now as a kaleidoscopic, 7-dimensional wonderment of sight, sound and togetherness. Carnivalesque, mythical, magical. You really had to be there. And I’ll be forever eternally grateful that I was. https://www.catweazleclub.co.uk/about-3-1
I recognise, too, how valuable Catweazle has been for so many people, and for such a long period of time, and of that I am immeasurably proud. It was amazing for me, too, and has been very hard to say goodbye to.
It was always a safe, friendly and truly vital place to connect with like-minded souls, in an ever-increasingly divisive and disconnected world. The tragedy is that a space like is needed now more than ever. Ah well, I’m sure others are stepping up to the plate as we speak.
It was also a vital creative outlet and resource for those that came. For me also - and so naturally, I have now gone elsewhere for those kicks, as no doubt have you.
If leaving Oxford (the known world) after 30 years, and also losing Catweazle, was hard for me, I am happy to say that moving to Bristol has been inspiring and vivifying. I built a studio at the top of my house, overlooking the city, and have been diligently working on a new, very different kind of album, now nearing completion.
I have also become a fervent street photographer: taking the music I’d been making in the day, out at night in the headphones, I’d wander around this new and vibrant city with my camera, the music and images swirling and cascading into and infusing one another. So much is going on in this town - it’s like living backstage at Glastonbury. I am super proud of the work, both audio and visual, and I look forward to sharing it with you. Having feasted fully upon her splendours these last three years, Jessica and I are shortly to be heading out further West.
This year, I’ve also written a book. It’s an autobiographical travelogue, retracing journeys I took to Morocco and Ireland 40 years ago that were both enormously pivotal portals in my life. Following the same routes I took as a naive fledgling with a troubadour heart, I had a chance to meet my younger self - and him, me - and this book is a series of observations and anecdotes and photographs and conversations between us. It’s also about how I became lost after leaving Oxford and losing Catweazle, and what it has felt like to remain curious about this bardot state, the in-between, the not-knowing. The book is called I Used To Be Someone.
I am writing this to you now from my van on the southwest coast of Ireland - where I was first initiated into the Bardic tradition as a songwriter 40 years ago, a mythical event I detail in my book, and without which The Catweazle Club would never have come into being. And so I feel I have come full circle, back to where it all began, in order to bring this epic chapter to a close.
Both the album - which is as yet untitled - and the book will be released next year. In tandem, I also plan to do an exhibition of photographs. https://www.instagram.com/mattsagemusic
In addition to all of that, I am coming to the end of a three year training in Systemic Constellations - for me a very natural progression from the job I used to do when holding space at Catweazle - and I have started running groups in Bristol. This work really is incredible and powerfully transformative. If any of you are interested in me running sessions in Oxford, let me know.
And so, dear Catweazle, it’s time for me to say goodbye, and to thank you for all those amazing times. Thank you to every performer, door and decor person, audience member, co-host, musician, poet, storyteller, supporter and friend who helped us to create so much magic for so many years. Catweazle was never mine alone. It belonged to all of us. The body dies - as I was always won’t to say, whenever we had to change venue - but the spirit lives on. It certainly lives on in me - and I hope in you too.
Onward, Upward, Inward, Outward, Edward
Summer Solstice 2026
The Catweazle Club is Oxford’s longest-running performance space for music, poetry, story and song & all manner of acoustic artistry.
An intimate and magical space for musicians, singers, poets, storytellers and performance artists of every imaginable hue, who grace the stage every week. A chance to sit, to listen, to connect, to inspire and to be inspired …
It was founded in 1994 by song writer and musician Matt Sage, after he escaped from London, with nothing to his name but a heartful of songs, and moved onto a boat on the Oxford Canal. Having musically learned his craft at The Troubadour Club in Earl's Court - at a weekly Wednesday night acoustic space run by Roddie and Julia from the band Miro - upon arrival, Matt immediately set about searching for a similar scene in which to call home.
However, back at the beginning of the '90s, there was absolutely no acoustic or intimate music scene in Oxford, and so, within 3 weeks of arriving, in the Autumn of 1994, Matt took over the snug of the Victoria Arms in Jericho, put up a few posters (using a home made spell-paste imbued with herbs, oils and whispered intentions for the nascent endeavour) and turned up to meet whomever might show.
That first cozy, candelit session created the template for each one that followed over the next 30+ years: musicians, singers and poets in search of an attentive audience, and anyone else who simply wanted to have an entrancing and soulful inspiring night out. No mic, no stage: just a spotlight and a chair, with the audience hanging on the every word and note of the performer. Just like we humans have gathered forever.
It didn’t take long for the room to pack out, forcing a move to the larger upstairs room.
An intense and often otherworldly atmosphere soon developed, and still more people came to gather round the flame, responding to that integral part of themselves which had hitherto remained malnourished by the bigger, better, faster world that seemed to be sinking its teeth into every aspect of modern life in the middle of the nineteen nineties.
Another move saw the Catweazle Club commence what was to become a three-year residency at Jude The Obscure in Walton Street. People met, fell in love, had babies, joined bands, jammed into the wee hours, all care of wonderful landlord Noel Reilly’s Irish “hospitality”.
This was also the time of the Newbury Bypass road protest movement, when Catweazle became something of a hub and telegraph post for the various campaigns and actions, with news of planned mischief and who had been nicked/released/evicted from the trees. It was a time when many previously unconnected groups swirling around Oxford began to connect up, circles upon circles upon circles conjoining. It was the end of the analogue era, and a wonderful time to be alive.
When the walls of Jericho could no longer contain the multitude, the whole circus upped sticks and moved to Northgate Hall in St. Michael’s Street, where we spent seven fantastic years before finally crossing Magdalen Bridge and over onto the East Side of Town, where we took up residence for the following 15 years at the old East Oxford Community Centre.
In 2010, The Catweazle Club was the subject of a half hour feature documentary on BBC Radio 4
Becoming ever more deep and rooted and strong, until Old Man Covid came a-calling. We have been itinerant in Oxford ever since, popping up here or there for a few months at a time, before moving on again. Always, alive, always surprising. Join the mailing list to find where we'll be next.
Matt, in the meantime, moved to Bristol in search of further inspiration, and in October 2025, launched a new monthly Catweazle Club night at Cafe Kino, in Stokes Croft, on the first Wednesday of the month. Taking an ember from the well-established Oxford fire, the night proved an instant sellout success.
Over the past 30 years we have pretty much seen it all, and had the profound privilege of witnessing literally thousands of performances – from nervous first-timers, to seasoned pros - grace our stage, share their spendlours and make us all feel like we belong to something meaningful, if only for the night...
Long may catWEazle continue.
Here are just a few of the things other people say about The Catweazle Club:
“Britain’s most intimate performance space” - The Times
“One of five essential cultural interludes in Oxford” – The Guardian
“Magical” - BBC Radio 4
* * * * * - Tripadvisor
"Catweazle - no trickery, just pure heart and soul wisdom for ears that hear the bells of angels, even when they don't." – Core Luminous
"Catweazle encompasses community love. The atmosphere is elusive where real raw talent meets the magical ambience shining through sound, music, poetry and story-telling."
Sacha Mokenen
"The CatweazleClub is Oxford's longest-running Acoustic evening where songwriters,players,bards,storytellers and miscellaneous trobadours can make their manifold musings manifest in a respectful and electrickery-free space. The password is love." – Simon Davies
"Stripped-down acoustic music served in the simplest and most honest manner to a hushed and appreciative audience. In other words - a songwriter's dream venue!" – Luke Jackson
"Catweazle reminds me of some great graffiti I kept gratefully seeing on the way to Port Meadow: 'Resistance is Fertile.' It keeps hope alive, it also fertilises and cross-pollinates art, humour breaks out, and good will abounds. And the mixture of all ages & all cultures is so enjoyable, and so healthy."- Patti Dale, poet
"Catweazle: It’s a purposefully homespun experience….under the naive spell of performing it pulls the heart strings and spells ones cynicism away it’s utterly charming" – Marcus Hirsh
"Vampires, jugglers, angels, ghosts,
Wood, wire, words, fire,
Dancing hip cats of the now,
Burning with visions of high heaven/sweet hell
And this wonderful dangerous in-between, our good green mother.
CATWEAZLE: not for the faint of art."- Joe Martin Ricke
"The ultimate in social mobility- anyone may occupy the hallowed glittering chair and sermon the people at their feet, through speech or song. "– Tom Swinburne
"Catweazle is brilliantly hosted. Candlelit. Glamourous. Mercurial. Quality performances and quality listening as no amplification. Friendly and egalitarian space encouraging to all participants" – Pauline Sewards
"Organic wonky basement of sharp talent amuses many a person through minty eyes of Music, Poetry, dancing and Singing with arms of chairs and the body of a cushion" – Eliot Vanderhyde