Decalogue

London Fields # 63
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 April 2009
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

There used to be simple rules of gig etiquette that everyone knew and understood. Recently these seem to have slipped by the wayside, and so the experience of being part of a large number of people crammed into a very small and poorly ventilated space is often an ordeal rather than any kind of pleasure. Now some of these codes of conduct have changed, or no longer apply. The conceit of never wearing a t-shirt of the band you are seeing seems to have passed into obsolescence. The smoking ban has relegated several others, but at outdoor events and guerrilla gigs erratic dancing can still result in cigarette burns in a neighbour’s clothing, or worse still, on their skin. While you may now come home from a gig without reeking of stale tobacco, the absence of smoke has revealed other odours that used to lie hidden in the haze. Principally is the seemingly new phenomenon of gig farters. We’ve probably all been quaffing away happily for many years – the difference is now you can smell it, and it can be overpowering. Indie gigs seem to be the worst – notable recent eye-watering instances have occurred at gigs by The Wedding Present, Wavves and The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. Although you can’t really suggest Thou shalt not fart, the relentless onslaught throughout the performance sometimes makes me fear for the gastrointestinal health of those around me. I know I’ve written about gig talkers before, but they really are the bane of all but the loudest gigs. Put simply, they just show a complete lack of respect for both the performer and everyone else who has paid to hear the artist. There are other verbal annoyances, like the moron who yells out for a particular song after every song. Nick Cave has the best riposte to this “Yes, we’ll play anything you yell out. As long as it’s on that list (points to setlist). And in that order”. Yet some talk is good – like asking Excuse Me, rather than roughly barging a way through, But don’t use excuse me so that someone makes a space for you to squeeze through, only to stand in the space that was made for you as a temporary concession. Neither should you expect to find an easy road to the front if you arrive at the last minute. And if you want to be right against the stage, you may have to forego some other things. If you need to make six trips to the bar in ninety minutes then perhaps you should stand nearer the bar, so you don’t have to disturb people twelve times on your travels? Once you get to the bar, show some good grace. We’ve all had to queue for drinks, and we’re all missing something as we wait to be served. But when people push in, it just leads to aggro. At the front respect the rules of the mosh pit. If someone goes down, you stop and get them up, and out, if needed. Don’t go running full pelt into the periphery. We’re here to hear music, not to get into argy-bargy with someone spoiling for a rumble. Speaking of space invaders - take off your bloody backpack! You have no idea how many drinks you’re spilling, and people you’re bumping. If you must have your bag with you, then take it off your shoulder and put it on the floor. Or at least wear it on your front so you can see where it’s swinging. The final one shouldn’t even need to be stated, but sadly it does. Don’t steal - from other punters, or the venue, or the band. Piney Gir, in a recent MySpace posting, made a list of all the things that she’s had nicked from off stage in recent gigs, and it paints a pretty horrible picture of the state of play. Now I’m not for rigorous adherence to rules per se, and have probably broken many of them at some point (except the last). At one gig I was bailed up for talking. When I challenged this, he said that he couldn’t actually hear my commentary himself, but the microphone with which he was bootlegging the gig could. Another time a friend complained that the couple in front kept canoodling, and each time their heads pressed together, it blocked his view of the stage. Easy - you just move. Drink plays a factor in all of this, and there’s nothing worse that someone who’s drunk and obnoxious (unless they’re leery as well). But the loss of these abiding principals seems in some way to reflect a growing contempt of other people. So rather than a list of commandments, let’s keep it simple: don’t make your enjoyment of the gig result in ruining someone else’s. It’s simple - the tall bastard will stand in front of you just before the band come on, some idiot will spill your drink, or spill his over you, someone will yell out inanities, and someone else will treat you like crap. Yet sometimes the experience transcends all of this, and it is for these magic moments that we persevere. But if your pleasure is at the cost of someone else’s enjoyment, something’s gonna break. © James McGalliard 2009

Live And Let Live

London Fields # 61
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 4 February 2009
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

There are venues you love and cherish, others you go to only to see a band, and those you avoid no matter who is playing. The London Astoria, which closed for demolition last month, probably fell into that middle category for me, and I found it hard to be too upset about its demise. However it was loved by many, and playing there marked a significant stepping stone on a band’s career from playing club shows to the really large venues like Hammersmith or Brixton. Admittedly I did see some pretty special performances there, most notably Hope Of The States, and U2’s back-to-basics launch for All That You Leave Behind. Along with his sister venue, LA2 (formerly The Mean Fiddler), and The Metro in Oxford Street, it’s being pulled down as part of the long-awaited Cross Rail project, and its various late night clubs will struggle to find other suitable venues.

The economic downturn is causing other casualties. The Charlotte is Leicester has gone into administration, and even the efforts of local lads Kasabian may not be enough to save it. Both The Garage in Highbury, and Ocean in Hackney remain closed, despite mumblings that both may be going to reopen at some point soon. There are other threats lurking in the wings Various bands have posted MySpace bulletins urging their fans to sign a petition on the 10 Downing Street website against introduction of “…laws insisting anyone applying or re-applying for an entertainment license must have a noise control device fitted to the venue.” When this petition closed on 23 January, it had collected 86,281 signatures. Musician Warren James, who started the petition out of a concern that these devices would be made mandatory, has since issued a statement on his website that this never fear came to fruition. Interestingly, local authorities already have the power to introduce them if they so wish.

But there are major issues with noise levels at live shows. I’ve been to gigs where sound limiters cut all power the minute a snare drum was hit, and to city-based festivals where their volume levels were capped at such a ridiculously low decibel level that the person talking next to me was louder than the band. And that for me is a much greater noise problem - gigtalkers. I wish more venues followed the example of The Luminaire, where signs around the room make the situation unmistakably clear: “QUIET. IF YOU’RE TALKING WHEN A BAND IS PLAYING, WE’LL TELL YOU TO SHUT UP.” Sometimes volume can be an answer, but if the mix is too loud then the music can be lost; too few gigs recently have had brilliant live sound. But really all this is just a way of venues avoiding litigation. At their reunion shows last year, My Bloody Valentine issued complimentary ear plugs beforehand - but not every act can get away with playing aircraft landing loud.

The very first column I wrote for this paper, some five years ago, was about the introduction of the Licensing Act 2003. Hidden behind the much-needed relaxation of drinking hours were some clauses that could have horrendously affected any venue putting on live acts. It felt was a little like that episode of The Simpsons where Lisa has her airline fight path bill passed as it was paperclipped onto an innocuous and wanted legislation amendment. But there is a much more insidious piece of paper than the imagined threat of compulsory noise reduction devices. It also has a petition against it on the Downing Street website, started by Jon McClure of Reverend & The Makers; sadly this legislation is not imagined. The petition reads, "We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to scrap the unnecessary and draconian usage of the 696 Form from London music events. So what is Form 696? A police form for event promoters which not only asks for the names, aliases, dates of birth, addresses and telephone numbers of everyone playing, but also about the audience likely to attend. In December they revised the form, halving its length and removing the most contentious questions about the ethnicity of performers and audience. Yet this question remains: Music style to be played / performed (e.g. Bashment, R’n’B, Garage). Somehow I don’t feel it’s white indie kids they’re interested in. Elsewhere it asks about the make-up of the patrons. This form needs to be submitted 14 days in advance or else fines and possible imprisonment could follow, and applies to 21 London boroughs but could go countrywide if successful. At the time of writing only 15,025 signatures had been collected opposing it – particularly interesting as its Facebook page has 26,385 members!

Now I can understand the police wanting to be able to prepare for possible problems. You could tell when there were ‘interest’ acts appearing at one East London venue because they’d be metal detectors on the doors, and the entrance was screened from the street, perhaps as a deterrent to drive-bys. It may all be down to thinking a watched pot never boils, but actions like this are more likely to create an ethnic pressure cooker.

© James McGalliard 2009

Sorted

London Fields # 40
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 13 June 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

I remember my first Glastonbury Festival. It wasn’t planned - I only bought a ticket a few days before. We heard the world premiere of the new Stone Roses single One Love on Radio 1 while driving down from London, and then hit the four hour bumper-to-bumper crawl to get onto site. As night fell I was separated from my friends, and then the rain began to fall. I spent that evening sheltering inside my sleeping bag, cocooned within two black bin liners. When I caught up with my mates the next day, it turned out the ‘tent’ that they had for me had no floor and a ‘Cowboys and Indians’ motif on the side. Luckily it didn’t rain again. Those were amongst the most enjoyable days of my life.

Of course, Glasto now sells out in a matter of hours, and it’s a lot bigger than Pulp’s twenty thousand people standing in a field - this year 175 000 people are expected for that weekend at end of this month. Watching the TV coverage of the 2005 event, it seems our former camping pitch has become part of the crowd area - video screens allow a much bigger audience to feel they’re part of the event. You’ve got to admire the Eavis family for keeping it all together, but the real joy of Glasto was the community spirit. And when things get so large, it’s hard to keep that intact.But there are still smaller gems to be found.

The end of April found me at the Dirty Three curated All Tomorrow’s Parties event at Butlins holiday camp in Minehead. It was a surreal experience, holiday ‘chalets’ from a Carry On film, a real mix of people, a proliferation of beards, and best of all, no aggro. The audience ATP attracts is there for the music, not to be a prick.

Then earlier this month I was in Barcelona for Primavera Sound, which was easily the most trouble-free and organised event of this kind I’ve ever attended. Sure there were minor quibbles – the queues to buy vouchers to exchange for drinks, the late nights [bands coming on at 5 in the morning catches up with you by the third day], and the sound spill onto the Rockdelux stage [at one point so loud that it stopped Warren Ellis midsentence]. But although there were no outstanding highlights, it never felt overcrowded (except during The Smashing Pumpkins), and (like ATP) it was great few days with nice people and good music.

This month marks 18 years since I left Melbourne, and three years of writing this column. And following some recent discussions with readers, artists and promoters, I think it’s important that I make this point: I’m a punter! Nearly everything you read about here has been paid for; I’m a long way from the ligger’s list {which is a shame, as all the press bods at Primavera enjoyed free local brew in their own enclosure for all three days}. So I write about what interests me, and what I spend my money on – so it is from a limited perspective.

But perhaps you too get annoyed at exorbitant booking fees for gig tickets, or idiots who talk all the way through gigs, or folks who block your view by taking crappy pics on their phone every 20 seconds. That’s why big gigs are out - no V Festival or Reading, and although I enjoyed it last year, I’ll even be giving the smaller Get Loaded In The Park a miss. However, in July I’ll be heading to a farm in Oxfordshire for the relatively small Truck Festival (which has sold out before the line-up has been announced). And I’ll be descending with 5000 others on Hackney’s Victoria Park one Saturday in August for the inaugural Field Day, which aims to create a village fete atmosphere in the heart of the East End (and it has a great roster of bands over four stages).

Maybe if things keep getting too big, people will revolt and make their own way. Whispers are making even the mainstream press of free parties in the English countryside. Forget nu-rave – could 2007 turn out to be the third summer of love?

© James McGalliard 2007