PEOPLE, it’s time to listen to Feargal Sharkey. Believe me when I say I’ve thought very hard about making this statement, and it’s not a decision that’s come easily. Where I grew up it’s the sort of suggestion that could have marked me out as a teenage untouchable, the sort of weirdo best left in the corner to dream of the day she could marry one of the Proclaimers.
But for today’s purposes, let’s skip the argument about Sharkey’s personal musical stylings, and focus instead on his campaign to encourage more live music licences to be granted under the new licensing laws. He tells The MJ (Jan 12) that this is a good idea because it supports an important sector of the UK economy: “This is a £5 billion-a-year industry which starts in small groups in pubs and clubs. Without them there is no industry.” In other words, local authorities should whack a big green “yes” stamp on any applications from pubs that want to offer the next generation of rockers the chance to learn how to perform without miming.
Leaving aside the pleasant karmic warmth of someone saying something nice about pubs for a change, there’s more to this idea than simply supporting the music industry. It’s also about remembering that licensed establishments aren’t all vertical drinking dens that exist only to make sure that medical students get plenty of diseased livers to play with. They are places where people share ideas, try things out, learn a bit more about their communities. Sharkey reminds us that there’s more to pub culture than darts and pickled eggs.
Of course, I can hear the noise complaints from your residents from where I’m sitting. After all, one of biggest arguments against live music is that it’s loud, and that not everyone in the neighbourhood wants to listen to it. Sharkey’s group has plenty of sensible things to say about the importance of balancing competing local needs, but it’s a new law proposed in Australia that cuts through the issue. This would give pubs, clubs and other licensed premises in New South Wales the right to tell noise-sensitive newcomers to stop complaining. In Sydney, as soon as an inner-city area shows the smallest sign of gentrification — a bookshop that serves coffee, say, or a boutique with products so unique and edgy that they’re useful only as gifts for people you don’t really know — young professional couples move in.
For a while, they talk about the gritty glamour of urban living. Then the female half gets up the duff and all of a sudden they’re fully-fledged members of the family-wielding middle class, determined to demand better schools, more frequent recycling and a quieter neighbourhood. They complain about the noise from pubs they used to frequent, and the music stops. Under the new law, if the pub can show that it was playing music before the residents arrived, the music can stay.
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Finally the “I was here first” argument can be used in legal wrangles as well as fights for which sibling gets the front seat. It translates well to London, too: imagine how nice it would be to tell an uptight resident that Soho had been an entertainment centre for generations, and it’s not about to stop just because she’s moved into a new flat.And maybe you could try telling her that it will reduce the occurrence of binge drinking. After all, if we’re all dancing with our fingers in our ears we’re not pouring corrosive quantities of alcohol into our mouths.
E-mail: agenda@thetimes.co.uk