- As we all know, the restrictions on physical gatherings resulting from the COVID-19 pandemic has been quite a challenge for musicians. Another side of this though, one perhaps less obvious, is the way this has affected the places where live music is a vital part of the social glue.
One such location is West End in inner Brisbane. From bars and venues, to backyard gigs and open jam sessions; people gathering to make music is one of the things that has shaped the unique character of that 4101 postcode. The suburb has provided a space where artists from around the city and country can play and bred within its residents a musicality that has been a gift to the Brisbane and Australian music scene.
So it's not just the musicians of West End, but the identity of the place itself that has taken a hit from the social restrictions that have made gigging impossible. Those twin effects were noticed by local councillor, musician, and long time scene supporter Jonathan Sri. His response was to instigate The Art of Hibernation, a compilation album of twelve local bands and artists who have been kept offstage through the lockdown.
As a sample of the eclectic musical styles of West End it works pretty well - there's the reggae jams and hippy soul that are probably most readily associated with the locale; but also a touch of experimentation, a spoonful of twee, a dash of punk, some humour and politics and a few other things besides.
There are a few references that locate the album geographically too. It's in the name of reggae band Kurilpa Reach, that of course being the Jagera name for the West End peninsula. It's in the lyric about "the sound of feet on Montague Road" from acoustic songwriter SAATEEN and somewhat cryptically from folk punks Wheatpaste. "You'll find me on the stairs to nowhere, I'll be having a drink" sings Steve Jarman. It works as a metaphorical image, but many West End locals will know the old punk hangout he is talking about. The Stairs To Nowhere are gone now, another casualty to the development of West End. But I doubt even in their prime you would have found them on Google Maps. It was a piece of specific local knowledge, now even more so.
This lyric made me reflect on the value of being part of a local music scene. It can turn music from just another consumer product to something more intimate: where we can appreciate songs in a new way because we understand the context - know the people, know what they are singing about. If the physical surroundings of the artist are inspiring the songs, then everyone who lives there can be part of the creative process, whether they play in the band or not.
COVID-19 has certainly affected how we relate to the physical spaces around us. In some ways it has made us more localised. With travel restricted, many people have explored their immediate surroundings in a way we never had before. But in another way, as it drives more and more of our interactions (including musical performances) online, we are more removed from our physical space - existing in the placelessness of cyberspace. Some have gone as far as to ask why we even bothered with physical gatherings when so much can be done from our loungeroom plugged into the world wide web.
The long-term effects are yet to be seen, but it seems unlikely things will return to the way they were before COVID. Like most changes, this will probably have good and bad consequences. If we move to a more digitally connected world, one casualty could be the idea of a local music scene. Artists online can reach a vast potential audience (for instance, enabling me to write this review of West End bands from 1500km away in north Queensland), but they can't offer anyone the kind of specific resonance I spoke of earlier. The dictates of digital media will require more extensive categorisation, and we may lose the connections that come from eclectic musical styles and philosophies co-existing in a physical location. Shared locality holds a possibility of chance encounter, of cross-pollination, that seems less likely in an online environment. And a music always mediated by technology is one where that distinction between artist and audience is more defined.
In other words, the things we love about a local music scene could be collateral damage. It's nice then to see people like Jonathan Sri using online technology to try to keep alive the idea of a local creative community, at a time when it seems more threatened than ever. The Art of Hibernation is an enjoyable set of songs, but it also represents something much more.
- Andy Paine.