Quietly, without as much as a murmur, posters for rock gigs have disappeared from public view in this affluent, small-ish, most southern of northern towns.

“How did you get your posters in those nice, wooden-framed, glass fronted display boards? And how much did it cost you?” I ask a member of a local indie-rock band shortly before they go onto became the first, and probably last, such band to play the lavishly-restored Royal Hall in Harrogate.

“The council own them. It didn’t cost us anything. As long as it‘s a council show you‘re fine,” he replied. Posh boards for posh gigs; opera, musicals, string quartets, a tribute act to Frank Sinatra, the massed marching bands of the RAF - they‘re all shouting their names, their events, civilised and clear.

What’s interesting about the young musician’s reply is the suggestion that it’s only publically-run shows which are afforded this sort of public support and recognition.

And how “public” is defined is crucial. The independent promoter, whether that’s the band’s guitar player who’s found himself and his mates somewhere to play and wants to tell people about it, or the more ambitious would-be mover and shaker in the town’s small but diverse live music scene, is also a member of the public.

Denied access to public space by the council, the independent promoter finds his options for promoting limited.
With so much public money at stake, the council‘s approach shouldn‘t come as a surprise. There’s an investment to protect; £10.7m of it in the case of the Royal Hall redevelopment.

What’s revealing about our age is that this closed shop attitude by council elders mirrors the business mindset which has swept aside everything in its path since the collapse of the Berlin Wall and the removal of the West’s only real rival.

It also reinforces much of what Naomi Klein was warning us all about in her book No Logo ten years ago.
Creeping corporate control of culture, the overwhelming importance of branding, the invasion of public space by private money.

At the time, it seemed Klein’s worries were about to become all our worries. Good, golly, Miss Molly, she was hip but wrong.

Globalisation and anti-consumerism looked set to be the dominant political theme of the 21st century. Then 9/11 struck and Klein’s viewpoints slipped down the list of priorities somewhere below terrorism, religion, imperialism and the slippery, jack of all trades concept that is climate change. But the corporate creep continued on its course nonetheless, money in all its stealth and wealth, its tentacles reaching deeper and further.

It’s gone so far that, like the air we breathe, we are now no longer aware of it. In this small town, underdog promoters have long since gave up hope of getting their posters in local shops. These days, it’s customary to expect private space to be used to promote private interests - whether that’s clothes, food or, ironically in the case of HMV, music. Cluttered window, cluttered brand.

It did come as a surprise last year, however, when Harrogate’s only instrument shop devoted to solely rock musicians decided to clear its windows of gig posters after changing ownership.  The new man behind the counter of this small, independent outlet on the less chintzy end of town said he wanted the shop to look more “professional”

Gig posters would still get their own space but from now that space would be a specially mounted, neat and tidy but very quite small board tucked away in the corner of the window nearly out of sight.  And who can argue with his thinking, really? Where once building a business from scratch from small beginnings was looked on with respect, now people trust brands, they buy the presentation. What’s familiar is comfortable and there’s nothing more familiar than a chain of 150 shops selling the same goods with the same image nationwide.

But isn’t is strange how an idea which appeared for practical reasons has become an orthodoxy embraced by almost  everyone, everywhere.  Brand thinking may work in the traditional business sector but it’s a damaging approach to adopt in music and the arts which thrive on concepts like community and the free flow of ideas.  Most importantly, it doesn’t even make financial sense. Music fans are possibly the only group of consumers who prefer not to be reminded of the fact that they are consumers when engaged in the act of consuming.

The Rolling Stones may be sponsored by Volkswagen, NME magazine’s annual awards by Shockwaves hair products but the audience doesn’t really want to know.  Would HMV really sell fewer CDs or DVDs if they invited local bands or local promoters to use their windows to advertise their gigs? Is an independent music instrument shop’s sales of drumsticks and plectrums going to shoot up because its windows are no longer plastered with posters for The Reckoning playing The Alexandra or Knievel playing The Blues Bar?

Will the Royal Hall go bust if the council’s posh boards are used for non-posh events? The demise of gig posters here may have passed quietly but it is of real significance to everyone. It involves the denial of a public outlet to something which is as much a part of public life as council-sponsored events, which contributes to the local economy just as a Gap store does or a multi-national chain.

It’s a small but important symptom of a business ideology that’s helped undermine the music business. Yup, the death of gig posters in a small town says quite a lot about the state of the music industry. And, by the way, Phil, I‘m not coming to your store no more.
 

Graham Chalmers
 

© Modern Music Review (2008)