Urban Villager: Music Communities

Written by Louise Evans

On our first tour with my new band, we travelled North to play two gigs over a weekend. The very short and very sweet mini tour was a testament of the place of music in a community. The first concert was packed out, standing room only. The second concert (at a different venue) had less people, but they all hung around in the garden around us, soaking up the sun and the music. People came to these gigs because it’s damn exciting for entertainment to come to town. Fortunately, we also proved to be entertaining enough. It was our first official gigs, but in performing I didn’t feel amateur, or that the audience was keeping in mind that this was our inaugural performances as a band. They were out in force as communities. They applauded us, heckled and laughed at our mistakes and our jokes, and that was a very good thing.

As musicians we are part of many communities, and the city provides opportunities to be in as many as you please. When I moved to Auckland four years ago, one of the reasons was to be more musically connected with others. Being a little ‘villager’ at heart, it felt indulgent at times to be able to enter whichever community was in keeping with my mood that week. The sheer options were staggering. I found myself drifting seamlessly between the folk concerts to the indie gigs to the open mike night, to an experimental music evening.

Hmm, but despite the goods at hand, I still felt a little bitty empty. Was I really more musically connected? I guess in my mind I hadn’t defined what that meant, and though I was attending tonnes of musical events of varying genres I wasn’t being sustained. I was also participating in a very limited capacity, and usually simply as a punter. Then it dawned on me - for all my efforts, I was part of ‘scenes’ rather than part of communities, and I was changing my tune for each. Hardly representative of the holistic approach to music I aspired to.

After the mini tour North, I was left thinking about how in Auckland, as part of those ‘scenes’ I often struggled to feel connection. Conversation was limited and not based on encouragement or exploration of the possibilities of music. Being a musician learning the art of performing is a risky business, and music performance is such an immediate artform. Any hiccup is noted, observed, computed, and it’s easy to dwell on your mistakes. And unfortunately it’s in Auckland that all too often I’ve found those audiences who are either jaded or overly critical. This sort of environment is not supportive for anyone other than those with blinders on or nerves of steel.

I think it’s about time to lose these attitudes and get on with celebrating our musicians, and celebrating performing it. It’s about opening up opportunities to expose each other to different genres, and different modes of thinking about music. When I talk of community, I’ve had some people sneer, and argue some really old fashioned points, in my opinion. One that I find particularly grating is: the all-encompassing ‘community’ spirit leaves little room for competition, for furthering and honing through criticism and review. I would beg to differ. When I feel community gather around a performance, I see the confidence of the performers grow, settling into their skin.

Through my time in Auckland I’ve established a huge range of musical acquaintances, far beyond my original folk/traditional music circle. Frequently there are solo artists that confide, ‘I would like to play with people’. I suspect these aren’t the performers with the nerves of steel. I dwell on how learning music has changed – how our musical muses now are on Myspace, Youtube, and other internet media or via an MP3 player. We study tutorials online, listen to versions of songs, watch interviews, search for lyrics. We are admirers of many, and are humbly apprenticed to their art without them ever knowing. This is immediacy in one sense but does not necessarily allow for one to gather with people, to experiment with music socially, to be part of a community that feeds itself with new ideas, and new blood.

And what of the venues that house this likeable community that supports musicians and their audiences? For an article I was writing about budget arts in the city last year, I asked people what they would like to see more of. The overwhelming suggestion was that there should be more places where one can go and simply be entertained, that they wouldn’t look at who was playing, they could just turn up trusting that whatever music or performance was there, they would be happy.

When I heard this, I think the place envisioned might relate more closely to a community venue that a scene venue. It reminded me of the locals turning up to our gig in the Hokianga, not worrying about what lay ahead (entertainment wise) just as long as they were with their neighbours and hearing music. A community venue doesn’t necessarily mean the bingo hall down the dead end street. I reckon it means the place where one feels part of the heart of the matters. A place where the owners are characters, the regulars are comfortable, and it’s not exclusive, but not too big to be faceless. A place that creates community.

It’s not to say that there are some really dedicated folks that are chipping away to make this happen in our city, because I know they exist. But there’s a lot of work to be done with creating a truly vibrant city of music here. We are small, I suppose. We are spread out. But I don’t think those are excuses. Worldwide there are cities that are just getting on with supporting each other, creating communities and breaking down boundaries. When it comes down to it, a scene is a place to be ‘seen’, and a community is a place to be ‘with’. I’m only just starting to deconstruct this idea in the context of music and I hope Auckland is getting on with doing that too.

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