Something you might have heard recently is that the music business is in serious trouble. Iconic figures like “21st century luddite” (who also happens to perform almost exclusively electronic music these days) Thom Yorke and former Talking Head David Byrne would have you believe that just by booting up Spotify you’re personally contributing to the death of music. And while they might call for a boycott of all streaming services (which they can do because they’re already rich) the opposing view (such as that put forward by this excellent article at the Quietus) argues that things aren’t really so bad. In fact, rather than viewing the current moment as representing the slow demise of music, it’s maybe better to view it as a slow, sometimes painful, era of change.
While Yorke might be overstating the dire condition of recorded music, his old bandmate Colin Greenwood has a bit more of a case when it comes to the current state of independent music venues. Actually, Greenwood was little more than the ‘face’ of last week’s “Independent Venue Week”. Putting putting aside the irony of making a man whose experience of small independent venues is probably more of a distant memory at this point, Greenwood’s presence does help to bolster what is an important issue. Put simply, small independent venues (you know, the best kind) are in danger of dying a death as the venue scene comes to be more and more dominated by the majors. Beyond this though, there are actually many, many reasons that independent venues are a dying breed. As Andy Inglis points out in this article it’s not just the big boys that are to blame, but also artists, audiences and, yes, even the venues themselves that have to share a portion of the blame. Factors like guest lists, insane hospitality rider demands, poor customer service, a lack of funding, and plain old health and safety issues all contribute the the sorry state of the independent music venue scene across the UK.
Yet while folk like Ingles made a valiant effort to raise these issues across the web in the run up to the week, Independent Venue Week itself largely ignored these factors, instead focussing all its efforts into getting people into the venues in the first place. As such, a series of gigs took place across the country, including in Glasgow’s very own King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut, and GOG was invited along to take in the atmosphere. Sadly, while the intention of the event was well meaning, in practice it largely failed to achieve its goals.
Four bands took to the stage across the night. Things got off to a good start musically but a poor start audience wise as The New Fabian Society took to the stage in front of a mere handful of people. Business as usual then for an opening act, but sad all the same given both the focus of the night and the quality of the music on offer. Making a hell of a noise for a two man act The New Fabian Society trade in the kind of murky, post-industrial punk which assaults you with a relentless wall of noise which is as exhilarating as it is deafening. By far the best act of the night, and definitely the most distinctive, it’s a shame that so few were in the room to see their brilliant set.
Things got a good deal busier as what was clearly the friends and family brigade showed up to take in the next band, Blue Honey. Seemingly unaware of just how popular the name Blue Honey is for bands across the world (just Google it and see), the guys were the only act to play to a crowded room. While I could be lazy and compare them to the Arctic Monkeys I actually don’t think they would mind all that much. They’ve got that whole thing down to a tee, including the front man’s leather jacket (which he admirably kept on though it was clearly boiling on stage). They also display a confident command of song-craft, with everything falling into place at exactly the moment you’d expect. While not my thing per se I could appreciate their skill and commitment. They’re exactly the kind of band you expect to see in Tut’s, and the kind of band that Tut’s has been championing for years. If one day they join the names on the stairs leading up to the venue I wouldn’t be too surprised.
The room emptied out somewhat as friends and family headed elsewhere, but next band Neon Waltz managed to keep some punters hanging around to see their take on that patented brand of mid-tempo Scottish folk-rock. Hailing from Caithness the guys (it really was a bit of a sausage fest on stage that night, a major problem in its own right) delivered a refreshingly up-beat sounding take on a traditional Scottish sound, though I can’t speak for the lyrical content. Peering from beneath a mop of curls, the impossibly young looking lead singer was almost entirely drowned out by the shimmering sounds of the band around him. Still, mixing problems aside the band show a lot of promise if they can get out of their fairly rigid formula of mid-tempo tunes that explode into activity towards the end. Another lot that I expect to hear more of in the future.
The final band of the night, Lemon Party, had the misfortune of following Blue Honey, not only because much of the crowd have thinned out by then, but also because they largely trade in a similar style to the earlier band. More Arctic Monkey comparisons are apt, even welcomed by the band themselves, though Lemon Party are a more confident, more experienced band than Blue Honey. Hailing from Dunoon, they’ve played their fair share of shows, something which comes through in the tightness of their playing. Their stuff is also insistently catchy, even if it is firmly rooted within the sonic bounds of mid-00’s indie rock. It’s just a shame that, as headliners, they have to play to an almost empty room.
And so the night ends on a bit of a sombre note. If the state of the independent venue scene is so bad that it requires a whole week of awareness raising, then it’s almost tragic that a night like this is largely business as usual, with crowds leaving once their pal’s band has been on. Though, to be fair, the organisers (or, you know, the venue) could also have done a bit more to make the night something different. A single banner behind the stage bearing the legend “Independent Venue Week” doesn’t really cut it, I’m afraid. I don’t know what the future for independent venues is, though I’m sure King Tut’s future is relatively assured for now, but it’s clear that attitudes need to change across the board.
(Full disclosure: as I got in on the guest list I suppose I’m technically part of the problem, but rest assured I spent that entry fee at the bar, so no worries).
Leave a Comment