New Wave Broadcasts a Lost Era Beneath the Streets of Olympia at Pillar Hall's Pepperbird Bar

Some events ask guests to attend. Others ask them to suspend disbelief. At Pepperbird, the newly opened speakeasy tucked beneath Pillar Hall at Olympia, New Wave Magazine invited London to do the latter. Hidden beneath the restored grandeur of Pillar Hall, Pepperbird descending below Olympia feels like following the sound of a record you've heard somewhere before but can never quite place. The air grows warmer, the lights soften into amber, and the city above quietly dissolves into velvet reds, polished nickel, antique mirrors and intimate corners designed for conversations that deserve to last until morning. Built upon Olympia's remarkable musical heritage, where giants including Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd once shook the walls above, Pepperbird carries that same spirit into the present through impeccable cocktails, live music and an atmosphere that seems to hum with stories waiting to be told.

Photography by Seyi Opesan

To celebrate the opening of the space, New Wave Magazine unveiled Pepperbird 102.6 FM, an immersive live broadcast imagined by Creative Director Derrick Odafi alongside artist and producer Ky Vinci. The concept unfolded like discovering an old radio frequency still transmitting decades after everyone believed it had disappeared. Every guest entered the room as though stepping into the middle of an ongoing programme, where the records never stopped spinning and every voice carried its own piece of London's cultural memory. Music drifted effortlessly across yacht rock, jazz fusion, soul, funk, synth-pop, disco and smoky late-night ballads, creating the feeling of travelling across three decades without ever leaving your seat.

Photography by Seyi Opesan

Holding everything together was the unmistakable presence of Slick Simmons, Pepperbird's fictional late-night disc jockey whose velvet voice became the evening's narrator. Every introduction landed with effortless charm, every pause carried intention and every story felt borrowed from another lifetime. Between records he welcomed callers from every corner of London, flirted shamelessly with admirers from Chelsea, offered relationship advice with a knowing smile hidden inside every sentence, shared weather reports as though sunshine itself had requested airtime, and reminded listeners that music has always been London's greatest conversation starter.

The station carried all the beautiful imperfections that made analogue radio unforgettable. Advertisements arrived exactly when you weren't expecting them, each lovingly crafted to celebrate Pepperbird's cocktail programme with the warmth of classic 70s broadcasting. A bittersweet James Brown record melted seamlessly into a Chevy advert and a smooth Diageo transmission, reminding heartbroken gentlemen that while love might walk away, an exceptional drink never will. Station idents echoed through the room with vintage tape hiss and warm vinyl crackle, convincing everyone present that Pepperbird 102.6 FM had somehow always existed.

Then the impossible began happening.

Jimi Hendrix casually called into the station to reflect on the legacy of music and the honour of finding his catalogue immortalised inside Pepperbird's drinks menu. Mick Jagger reminisced about swinging London as though speaking from the studio. Diana Ross recalled the songs that shaped her earliest memories. Muhammad Ali revealed the records that accompanied his early days in Louisville, Kentucky, Andy Warhol drifted into conversation discussing art's fascination with repetition, while Yves Saint Laurent reflected on how music gave movement to fashion long before the runway learned how to dance. Every conversation unfolded with enough wit and authenticity that guests happily surrendered disbelief, allowing history and imagination to occupy the same frequency.

Around the room, beautiful people settled into equally beautiful conversations. Designers compared references over cocktails while filmmakers debated favourite albums beneath dim lighting. Models drifted between banquettes alongside architects, photographers, musicians, writers, stylists and creative directors, each discovering new connections inside a room built almost entirely around human interaction. There were no performances demanding attention, no flashing screens asking for photographs. The soundtrack gently encouraged people to lean closer, listen longer and lose themselves inside conversations that unfolded as naturally as the records themselves.

Photography by Seyi Opesan

Pepperbird's cocktail programme became another storyteller altogether. Supported throughout the evening by Diageo, four signature serves appeared like carefully chosen chapters inside the night's narrative. Hey Joe poured dark, rich and soulful, carrying Johnnie Walker Black Ruby through roasted cherry, cocoa nibs and subtle sweetness worthy of its namesake. Golden Years closed the evening with tropical brightness, its clarified pineapple, coconut fat-washed Zacapa rum and gentle sparkle arriving with the same effortless optimism that David Bowie's classic continues to inspire. Every glass carried echoes of the musicians whose influence shaped Olympia's cultural history, transforming cocktails into liquid tributes.

Photography by Seyi Opesan

As the evening settled deeper into the night, the broadcast gently gave way to live performance. Ky Vinci stepped forward carrying the same emotional language the station had spent hours establishing. His unreleased material slipped naturally into the room, blending contemporary songwriting with echoes of Prince's elegance, Rick James' funk and Teddy Pendergrass' irresistible soulfulness. His performance extended the experience. The radio had discovered its leading man, and the audience welcomed every note.

Throughout the night, Slick Simmons remained a reassuring constant. His voice floated effortlessly across the room, introducing songs, welcoming callers, delivering observations about music, fashion, culture and romance before quietly stepping aside once again for another unforgettable record. Guests laughed together, raised another glass and found themselves looking around the room with the unmistakable feeling that they had somehow wandered into someone else's memory.

Photography by Seyi Opesan

Pepperbird 102.6 FM offered something increasingly difficult to manufacture in modern culture: atmosphere with genuine emotional weight. It invited everyone present to surrender their phones, trust their ears and disappear into another chapter of London's musical imagination. Pepperbird itself now stands as the physical home for that feeling, preserving the elegance, romance and creative electricity of an era that refuses to fade. Every evening the lights dim, another record begins to turn, another cocktail is poured and another story quietly finds its audience beneath Pillar Hall.