This week is Independent Venue Week – a dedicated seven-day period designed to shoutout and uplift some of the country’s greatest spaces for live music, and highlight the myriad of challenges they face. Whilst these venues sometimes lack the glitz and glamour of their larger counterparts, the UK music industry would utterly crumble without the spit and sawdust rooms providing space for up-and-coming performers.
Some of my first-ever experiences in the live music arena were in tiny spaces with low ceilings and small stages. Something that (quite literally) stuck to me was the floor at The Fleece in Bristol: the decades of congealed beer and sweat immediately fused themselves to the soles of my Doctor Martens. Surveying the room with its numerous structural columns and minimal floor space, with a stage so low that I could practically touch my favourite artists, I knew that I was in love and I knew that these places held an innate romance that you just can’t find at bigger venues. Plus, more often than not, they readily served 16-year-old me as much Red Stripe as I could consume.
These spaces are the lifeblood of the British music scene: they provide beautiful space for new bands to find their feet, for established bands to workshop new material, and for artists to sell t-shirts and LPs without the crippling cuts that some larger venues take from artist merch sales. The community aspect at these venues is integral too – at each indie venue up and down the country, there are always a series of regulars who attend pretty much everything and offer the welcoming environment necessary for new bands to grow.
Some of the most vigorous mosh pits I’ve ever had the pleasure of navigating have been at such venues: at the legendary, now-closed Moles Club in Bath (a recent casualty among many) I went flying and hit the deck watching the incendiary JOHN x2. Before I could gather myself from the sticky floor, unknown punters had grabbed my specs from the swirling inferno and hoisted me to my feet. Unfortunately, my pint couldn’t be rescued, but the sense of community in that room has stayed with me since. Whilst I’ve gone over on my arse in several pits, it’s the indie rooms where you’re most likely to be picked up with a smile and sent laughing back into the mayhem.
These venues are often the springboard for artists breaking through: Leeds’ legendary Brudenell Social Club is a prime example. The space is akin to an old working men’s club, with two separate function rooms joined by a glorious bar – the drinking area is bedecked in spectacular 70s-style shag carpet and towering wooden hand pumps distributing fine local ales. The left-hand adjoining room has these gorgeous carved-out seating areas, resplendent in black leather, often used as platforms for the smaller among the crowd to get a good view.
The stage is hardly a foot tall – it’s utterly magical. Such a space gives punters an irreplaceable feeling of connection to the artist on stage. Huge artists have taken to the tiny stage over the years. Fontaines DC played this room as part of an out-store run for A Hero’s Death: the crowd could see the whites of Chatten’s eyes as he stalked the minimal space. English Teacher’s Lilly Fontaine later roamed the same stage, tossing fake daffodils into the baying crowd for a gig that became a live album, pressed exclusively for Record Store Day. The intimacy of venues like The Brude, or YES’ Basement and Pink Room are utterly unrivalled in the sheer connection that exists between performer and audience. It is utterly electric and is an integral part of the romance only found in rooms like this. Maybe romance is a place, and it’s inside your local indie venue.
However, things aren’t all roses for these bastions of independent music. Skyrocketing living and rental costs mean that over a third of our grassroots venues are loss-making, making it incredibly difficult to perpetuate the wealth of talent this country is capable of producing.
A high-profile example of the cultural exodus is a personal favourite: the aforementioned Moles in Bath was forced to indefinite closure due to the sheer costs of running such a space. The 220-capacity room had become a cult favourite, having featured Oasis, Radiohead, The Smiths and Manic Street Preachers in their infancy. Up-and-coming bands don’t have the capital or fanbase to play the larger rooms up and down the country, and spots like Moles or Leeds’ Sheaf St are vital to keep our beloved scene alive.
The good news is that this isn’t fatal. The government has recently backed Music Venue Trust’s proposed ticket levy. The levy, recommended last year by the Culture, Media and Sport Committee, would mean that every ticket sold at arena or stadium shows would contain a financial contribution in support of grassroots venues, artists and promoters. Such legislation is vital in perpetuating the culture which this country so often publicises as a key export. There is light at the end of the tunnel.
This week is crucial for maintaining such support: get yourself to an indie venue this week, watch the support acts, and buy a pint and a t-shirt. Our duty as music fans is to keep these spaces alive, to ensure they can incubate the Glastonbury headliners of the future.