"We grow a community rather than build one."
Nick Keynes said that in James Vincent's interview with Nick Keynes, and it's been rattling round my head ever since.
I spend a lot of time at Tileyard, mostly behind the scenes recording for the ActionCOACH podcast. So I expected to be interested. I didn't expect it to stay with me the way it has.
If you've never been, Tileyard is a 150,000 square foot creative hub in King's Cross. It houses everyone from Mick Jagger to Lewis Capaldi, from Apple Music to independent producers you've never heard of but probably should have. It's been there since 2011. Somehow creativity and commerce live side by side there without one smothering the other.
Nick co-founded it with Paul Kemp. He used to be in a band called Ultra. Now he spends his time curating, tending and protecting what Tileyard has become.
Why does it get to me? I've been obsessed with music for as long as I can remember. Entire years of my life are soundtracked by specific albums. I can tell you exactly where I was the first time I heard a particular bassline. I've spent hours in record shops when I didn't need anything at all, just to be around the stuff. I write music, I DJ, and I'm fascinated by what lets creative people do their best work. The talent and the gear matter. So do the room, the people and the energy.
The room comes first
Most of us would fill the rooms first, hit the revenue targets and figure out the culture later. Nick and Paul did the opposite.
They spent time shaping the environment before they worried about tenants. What kind of space would make creative people feel they could do their best work? They designed for collisions: chance encounters and accidental conversations that turn into collaborations. Nice furniture and good coffee help. The real work was deciding what culture they wanted and who they wanted to attract.
And the high profile clients came. Tileyard didn't have to chase them with aggressive marketing. They felt the place was different, and they wanted in.
Audience, network or community?
We throw the word "community" around far too much. Every brand wants one. Every course creator promises you access to one.
I think there are three different things hiding under that word. An audience is people who consume what you make. They watch, listen and read, and it's mostly one way. A network is people you're connected to for mutual benefit. You can make introductions and ask for favours. Both are useful.
A community is people who belong together. They share values and they look out for each other.
Nick talked about how people at Tileyard recommend other good people. How friendships form and trust builds over time. Someone lends a piece of equipment, covers a session or introduces a client, with no immediate payoff, because that's what you do when you're part of something. Could you get that from a Slack channel and a welcome email? I doubt it.
That's what he means by growing it. You can't build it to a blueprint and call it finished. You plant, you water, you prune, you protect, and it takes the time it takes. Tileyard has been growing for over a decade. Nick and Paul kept showing up, paid attention to what was working and what wasn't, freshened the space up when it needed it and helped the people in it succeed.
Most of us give up far sooner. We try to build a community in six months, get frustrated when it doesn't feel alive and move on to the next tactic.
Saying no
Tileyard doesn't let just anyone in. They think about fit. Will a potential tenant add something, or just take up space? They look at whether the skills and the values fit the people already there.
Some people would call that gatekeeping. I'd call it looking after the people who are already there. Let everyone in and you've got a crowd.
Nick also talked about turning away businesses that didn't fit what Tileyard was trying to create, even when it cost them. Imagine doing that with bills to pay and targets to hit. It would be so easy to say yes to anyone who can pay. Saying no means trusting that the right people will come.
And when someone has clearly thought about whether you'd fit, and decided you would, you feel it. You belong.
Why the building still matters
You can work from anywhere now. You can build a business without ever meeting your team in person. And yet Nick reckons physical communities have a depth that online ones often lack, and I think he's right.
When you're in the same building as someone, you bump into them. You have a coffee. You overhear a conversation and join in. You see what they're working on and offer help without being asked. None of it feels like much at the time. Over the years it adds up to trust.
Online communities can be wide, and useful. But they're rarely that deep.
I work in content, coaching, marketing and edutainment, which is my word for teaching people stuff while keeping them entertained. I also make music. So since that interview I've been asking myself what kind of rooms I'm creating. Am I selective enough? Do I say no when I should?
I don't want to create audiences. I don't even want to create networks, really. I want to make spaces where people feel they belong, do their best work and are surrounded by people who get it. That's what Tileyard looks like to me, and that's the kind of work I want to do, in music and in business.
Think about the rooms you've chosen to be in. Which of them would you actually call a community?
