Live rock returns, from a distance: inside Frank Turner’s ‘government endorsed’ pilot concert
At 4pm on Tuesday July 28, the English singer Frank Turner leans over a table in a small room in south-west London and signs 200 autographs. Tonight is the occasion of “a live concert to help [re-open] the Clapham Grand,” a handsome Victorian venue that has staged performances by Charlie Chaplin and Chuck Berry.
The gig, the handbill announces, is “a government-endorsed pilot show.” It’s also a slice of musical history. Rock ’n’ roll is about to return to a British indoor stage for the first time in more than four months. Joining Turner on the docket is the keyboardist Ciara Haidar and the “drunk folk singer” Beans on Toast. The performers are appearing – without pay – for an audience of 200 people seated at socially-distanced tables. A ticket for four costs ￡120.
“Part of the purpose of this evening is to demonstrate good faith toward the government on the part of the music industry,” says Turner. “We understand that no one is able to click their fingers and have things return to – quote unquote – normal. So good faith is a big part of this, as is demonstrating that people can come together in a way they’re comfortable with, and behave in a manner that isn’t going to endanger other people.”
Inevitably, it’s a bit of a palaver. Admission to the venue is staggered and features a temperature check, a one-way system, the filling-out of a form, and an in-house “test, track and trace” system. Masked waiting staff are summoned by customers waving rainbow-coloured flags. Despite a bounty of booze behind the bar, by far the most popular alcoholic products are the bottles of hand-sanitiser on each of the 50 tables.
Despite being filled to less than one-fifth its normal capacity, tonight the Clapham Grand rosters twice its usual number of staff. A crew member with a Nottingham Forest tattoo is busy bringing equipment to and from the stage. Despite the long day, he’s delighted to be back; after four months working at Tesco, today is his first day on the job since the spring. As the staff prepare to open the doors, the room becomes a blur. This evening’s concert was pulled together at just four days’ notice.
“The music industry trains you to be aggressively proactive,” says Turner. “If something goes wrong, it has to be fixed immediately by hook or by crook. The show has to happen, and then the following day another show has to happen that can be up to 500 miles away. What that means is that the industry is full of extremely proactive, creative and resourceful people. They don’t have time to sit and moan.”
Turner was asked to headline tonight’s pilot show by the charity Music Venue Trust – the body that liaises directly with the government – as a result of his fundraising efforts during lockdown. Over the course of 16 weeks, each Thursday the 38-year old performed a live set from his living room in Haringey, in which viewers on social media were invited to donate money. These endeavors raised almost ￡200,000 for small independent music venues across the British Isles.
Tonight’s 75-minute headline set is the singer’s 2,499th concert as a solo artist. Under normal circumstances, he performs up to 200 shows a year across the world in front of a backdrop that features the words “always on tour.” Between the start of lockdown and his re-emergence onstage at the Grand, he had 50 concerts booked; the inevitable cancellations have resulted in losses totaling ￡500,000.
This cessation of trade has decimated the livelihoods of four additional musicians – his backing band, The Sleeping Souls – a road crew of seven, and the earnings of a manager, a booking agent and a promoter. All but one show between now and May next year have also been culled.
“One of the things about the music industry that I’m most proud of is that we’re not subsidised,” he says. “We create tens of thousands of jobs, and we create wealth. But I would say that I’ve lost between 90 and 95 per cent of my income since March, and there is no prospect of getting it back anytime soon. On a personal level, I’m looking quite seriously at what the financial future might hold for me.”
But if the wider problems facing the concert business are staggering, tonight the Clapham Grand is a place of hope. While outside the venue’s staff shoo away paparazzi who they believe intend to photograph audience members that might not social distancing, inside the tables on the dance floor and the balcony were sold to capacity inside of 24 hours. Virus be damned, the kids wanna rock.
It’s hard to imagine a more fitting crash test dummy than Frank Turner. An upper mid-level draw, his performances in cities as widespread as London, Berlin and Boston draw audiences of up to 12,000 people. Tonight he’s equipped only with an acoustic guitar for an appearance reminiscent of the numerous pop-up shows he continues to play – at least up until March – in the smallest of rooms.
The nature of his audience is also crucial – under normal circumstances the Frank Turner Army do not care for sitting down. In 2012, the singer sold out the standing area at Wembley Arena in a day, and then spent the next six months shifting tickets for its seated sections. Also in London, in 2015 he struggled to attract 5,000 people to a charity concert at the Royal Albert Hall, while in the same year effortlessly pulled a crowd of 10,000 to the seat-free Alexandra Palace.
At times, it feels like a concert in reverse. The musicians are introduced by Ally Wolf, the manager of the Grand, who reminds the audience of their responsibilities. There should be no singing, and, if at all possible, no cheering. Instead, they’re encouraged to applaud and stamp their feet.
Under normal circumstances, it’s difficult to imagine an MC saying, in effect, “Don’t go too crazy for Frank Turner.” As it is, the show is almost stolen by Beans on Toast. Following a capable set from Ciara Haidar – in which the searing Drink To Forget is the highlight – the 39-year old campfire punk singer begins his 30-minute performance with a day-old song, Save The Music, that was only finished on the train to Clapham Junction from his home in Hackney Wick.
“Every town in this country looks exactly the same, a Wetherspoons, the same old coffee chains,” he sings. “[There’s] an H&M, a Sports Direct. But there’s a place on the edge of town, a place that likes to play the music loud, a place that offers shelter from that bulls---. So you can save a life, you can save your money, save your kisses for your true love honey – but please save the music.”
It is at this point that the dam breaks, and an experiment becomes a gig. Despite the absence of dancing and singing, the energy in the room returns to the kind of levels heard and felt in the days before Covid-19 smashed its way through the saloon-bar doors of our cities and towns.
But even this can’t obscure the elephant in the Clapham Grand. Concerts in theatres such as this – and in many more rooms that are smaller and less well-equipped – are not able to take place without incurring huge losses. Despite the announcement last week of a ￡2.25 million rescue package, live venues are currently required to operate at a maximum 30 per cent capacity.
As well as this, a survey in the latest edition of Music Week reports that 80 per cent of people are not planning to attend a concert until October at the earliest. It doesn’t matter that permission has been granted for doors to open from August 1 – 70 per cent of grassroots venues have decided that staying closed is their most cost-efficient option.
“The government needs to implement a support package that makes it sustainable for [venues] to trade, under their capacity, with physical distancing, for longer than is currently being offered,” says Ally Wolf. “The furlough runs out in October, at which point we’re looking at potential mass unemployment on a huge scale. Venues will not be able to support the numbers of staff they had before this all started.”
Turner puts it more bluntly still. “This [model] doesn’t work on a financial level, and I think it’s very important that this is shouted from the rooftops,” he says. “It’s important that people don’t look at a show like this and think that the problem has been solved.”
This evening, the headliner’s set is peppered with poignant and apposite lines. “It’s a long road up to recovery from here, a long way back to the light,” he sings. Elsewhere, he’s “got no new tricks” and is “up on bricks”. All of this is true, of course, but then so is the sentiment that resonates around the Clapham Grand as the house lights rise and its patrons queue patiently for the exits. “We can get better, because we’re not dead yet.”
“Me, and the venue, and all of you, are here tonight because we’re willing to help,” says Turner from the stage. “We’re not just sitting at home and saying, ‘Everything’s f-----.’”
The latter part of the evening sees the unveiling of the gentle and shimmering Journey Of The Magi. A highlight from a body of work that is the equal of any songwriter of the 21st Century, the song’s otherwise esoteric lyric tonight throws light on the trauma visited on professional touring musicians, the venues that house them, and the audiences that long to see them play.
“But in the end, the journeys brought joys that outweigh the pain,” Turner sings.
Frank Turner & The Sleeping Souls will live-stream their 2,500th show on August 9 at 9pm. Tickets are available from dice.fm