THE NAKED CITY: THE DAYS THE MUSIC DIED
Image: Ray Charles animatronic
Last week I reported on the horrendous possibility of Sydney duplicating the multi-million dollar Abba Voyage Arena in London. The specially built super high tech stadium features a holographic performance from the Swedish warblers and apparently has proved a huge hit with the general public. Scarily, its popularity comes at a time when writers and actors in America are striking, warning of the impending dangers of AI and the prospect of one day being replaced by a hologram.
Cultural dystopia here we come – but are these kinds of dehumanizing innovations really a threat to our local live music scene? The big stadium shows like those of Taylor Swift will probably never go away, not unless she retires prematurely, joins a convent and is replaced by a hologram. It’s the hundreds of much smaller live gigs in Sydney that face the prospect of being overrun by some kind of Orwellian remodelling.
The sad facts are that live music, in all its more modest shapes and sizes, has continually been under attack in Sydney. Successive governments and local councils have often spruiked a policy of promoting live music, creating dedicated precincts and providing large amounts of funding. Yet historically it’s been a case of one obstacle after another, all of them detrimental to encouraging and sustaining a healthy live music scene. Councils in particular have been guilty of giving with one hand, such as promoting a local music festival and then taking with the other – like hitting a music venue with some kind of heavy handed compliance.
In 1999, Tim Freedman and his band The Whitlams released the single “Blow Up The Pokies”, which became an anthem for those who realised the damage done by the introduction of poker machines in NSW pubs in 1997. Out went the regular live bands and in their place a dedicated gambling den – no need to provide a bouncer, a sound guy or a dozen cans of VB in the group’s backstage rider.
Opposition to the pokies was combined with a strong campaign to ‘Keep Music Live’. These days the Minns Government’s focus on pokies is almost entirely related to problem gamblers, rather than any cultural change that the rows of illuminated digital bandits have brought to almost every pub and club in the State.
A further blow came to the live music scene when the NSW Government introduced the highly controversial ‘lockout laws’ in 2014, in an effort to curb a spate of alcohol fuelled violence in places like King Cross and Oxford Street. Venues in the Cross, Darlinghurst, Cockle Bay, The Rocks and Haymarket were required to halt further entry after 1.30am and cease all bar services at 3.00am. Whilst its main effect was on the DJ/Dance Club scene, it also hurt a large number of late night music venues.
After five years of protest on the part of club owners and patrons, including a series of large street protests, the lockout legislation was finally tossed out in 2019 for the CBD and Oxford Street and King Cross in 2021. Somewhat ironically the pandemic hit not long after and another kind of lockout was introduced. Live music obviously took a hammering during Covid and the Government did hand out large amounts of money to music venues across Sydney to maintain their survival.
The rescue package of some $24 million extended to some 150 music venues throughout Sydney with grants based on capacity and ranging from $200,000 to $750,000. The Crowbar (aka Bald Faced Stag) on Parramatta Rd for example received a reported $600,000, which the owners claimed was essential in keeping the venue operating. Most of the venues that received these grants are still operating but what the trickle down effect had to live music and the employment of musicians is hard to judge.
After a bumpy ride with pokies, lockouts and Covid, you might think the live music scene has reached a kind of equilibrium with the encouragement of both local councils and the State Government. Yet the recent noise complaints on the part of a couple of neighbours facing the Great Club in Marrickville indicates that the battle is far from over. The venue has resorted to public funding to meet large legal bills in fighting the complaints in court, despite the overall support of the Inner West Council.
So when, might you ask, will the first holographic singer/songwriter pull up a stool in a Sydney pub, powered by ChatGPT and able to sing any of 10,000 songs? Older readers might remember Jo Jo Ivory, the robotic Ray Charles who used to entertain punters in the Sheraton Hotel in Potts Point way back in 1985. Surely a prophetic, albeit disturbing vision of what awaits us only a few years away!
