The centres of Scotland’s arts scenes are contestable, but no one would argue that anywhere but Glasgow is the country’s musical capital. Supportive communities with responsive and rowdy audiences attract musicians from all around the country. I’m an outsider myself, having grown up and lived in central Scotland until moving to the city in 1999. But I think the most essential elements for a music scene to thrive are its venues, be they grand halls with great history or tiny bunkers under pubs. There are more venues than ever in the city now, but Glasgow has always seemed to have an abundance of them. This is a brief tribute to a few of the buildings that have nurtured me and my friends over the years, where I’ve seen – and played – some of the best gigs I can remember.
For the Barrowland Ballroom and its sprung floor and can bar, its neon wear and tear, and its humble hospitality; its unrivalled atmosphere and unchanging décor, and the waft of burgers and onions by the merch stand; host to David Byrne in 1989, the first ticket I ever bought … For Nice N Sleazy and its jukebox and chipped tables, where deals were struck and pints were spilled and bands were forged, condensation raining on the stage downstairs as musicians were recruited and sacked, where I sometimes woke up in the morning and sometimes still dance badly; some nights you were sure that everyone there was in a band … For the candlelit 13th Note, both the old one on Glassford Street where everyone met and everyone played, and the new one down the road, with hand-drawn posters blocking out the afternoon sun …
For Mono and Stereo and the Arches and the Queen Margaret Union and Oran Mor, and do they still do gigs in Cottiers? I loved it there … For a packed and perspiring King Tut’s and everyone we saw inside, but especially that night the Jesus Lizard played longer than planned and made us miss the train back home to Falkirk, so the band got us drunk in the dressing room by way of apology; and that night with PJ Harvey in ’92, the week her first album, Dry, came out, me right down the front, eyes wide and ears burst; and where, four years later, I played my first gig with my first band Arab Strap and wore a stupid hat to hide my fear …
For the big rooms, too, where the pop stars play – goodbye from Girls Aloud at the SECC! – and the Royal Concert Hall (we all like a seat these days) … For the ABC, still young at 10, named after the much-loved cinema it used to house, now replaced with a massive mirrorball and a room that can work for anyone from Shellac to Atomic Kitten; where Arab Strap sung our farewells under 300 balloons in 2006 and then wondered why we were disbanding at all … And for the Barrowlands – again! – which hosted me last year, confirming everything I knew from the other side of the barrier and closing the circle.
Here’s to our history and here’s to tomorrow; here’s to your health, Glasgow!
- Bill Wells and Aidan Moffat’s album The Most Important Place In The World is out now on Chemikal Underground
