Ricky

Another year passes and another venue closes in the city they call the “Live Music Capital of Australia”. But we needn’t be so Melbourne-centric about these things: live music venues have been dying in cities all over the country for a long time, chased out by rising rents, developers’ greed, gentrification and – maybe the elephant in the room – the decline in popularity of live music. That’ll do it.

The Curtin Hotel in Carlton recently announced it was being sold, “…most likely for apartments”, according to the current tenants, who host live music in the upstairs band room. Chalk it up. They’re dropping like bar flies wherever you look. Venues that aren’t being replaced by apartments are being replaced by wine bars. Maybe Generation Z has spoken?

Things looked to have come to a head back in 2010, when over 10,000 people marched in Melbourne at the Save Live Australia’s Music (SLAM) rally. Liquor licensing policies that deemed live music venues “high risk”, forcing them to comply with costly security regulations, were the target of the protesters, and were blamed for the closure of The Tote, one of the city’s most hallowed haunts. A grand finale was hastily organised, and hundreds crammed into the sweaty band room for one last hurrah, featuring rock luminaries such as The Drones, Spencer P Jones and Spiderbait. People cried; most were in disbelief. How could an institution like The Tote close?

But the story was to have a twist. The Tote reopened, just a few months later, under new management, and the hysterics around that “final gig” turned out to be a little premature. Fast forward another 12 years and The Tote is still open. Some gigs are sell-out affairs, but on many nights let’s just say there’s plenty of room to dance (note: no-one dances).

Life is tough for small bands, and the problem lies not so much in finding a venue as finding an audience. Why would the owner of a pub, who’s paying premium inner-city rents, dedicate floor space to live music when they might struggle to attract a dozen people, when they could rip up the sticky carpet and become a gastropub? The answer is that many owners are totally committed to live music, are musicians themselves, and do it for the love. Many get annoyed at bands for not promoting their shows and doing their bit to attract punters. “Got a gig coming up? Here’s an idea – maybe drop some posters down to the bar” is a not uncommon cry from frustrated owners and bookers.

Anecdotally, crowds at small venues have been dropping for some time. Established bands can still pull a crowd, and the higher up the ladder you go you’ll find people are hungrier for live music than ever. Festivals sell out, international touring acts fill stadiums. But what’s happened to the little league bands? It seems the subcultures that used to sustain small bands have fragmented or dwindled as their members grow old. Are there still goths, or punks or emos? Or did they go the way of the Mods and the Beatniks – to the suburbs to raise a family and go to bed by 9pm?

Perhaps young people don’t want to spend their weekends standing in a darkened dive bar watching mostly terrible but occasionally really great bands?

Sticky carpet always finds a way, though. The SLAM movement resulted in legislative change: most music venues were no longer deemed to be “high risk”. But those invested in the lasting survival of pub rock need to also look inwards.

It’s got me thinking though. I wonder: if I sold my guitars, could I afford an apartment in Carlton? Old rockers gotta live somewhere…

Ricky is a writer and musician with a few old guitars up on eBay.