Becoming a band in London (4/12): In the Camden trenches
After our first gig at The Garage went well and our first real demo got played on BBC Radio 6, we were ready to storm the London live scene in order to establish ourselves as professional musicians. The truth of the matter is, getting a gig in London even as an unknown band is relatively easy. If you have a few songs and any live footage, there's always a "toilet" you can play in (to cite 'Muscle Museum', one of our favourite Muse songs). Getting people to attend these gigs is the tricky bit. And the most educational.
In our minds, playing a show organized by a 'promoter' implies that the guy or gal actually promotes the event and has people there already, presumably following their events because of the quality of the acts endorsed in the past. However, we found out that reality is a much harsher environment. The promoter does indeed put the event together, but it's the artist’s job to bring an audience. When we started out, this proposition seemed preposterous. Notwithstanding the fact that London promoters actually make quite a lot of money that you either don't see or see very little of (in bizarre pay-to-play schemes that we'll explore in a future article), it does actually make sense, if you give it a bit of thought. Why would people line up to see you play when they have no idea who you are? But, at the same time, how can someone get to know you as a live act when they've never seen you perform? Yes, it may seem like a catch 22, but, if we're being honest, bringing people you know at first gigs is essential, for many reasons, especially for bands that have zero live experience (like us). Perhaps the most important factor here is that you need the practice, and you need practice in front of an audience (who’s preferably not hostile).
The Surya
The first gig we had after our initial boom was at an interesting place called The Surya, in North London, in November 2014. The geography of the venue is as unfriendly a space for gigs as can be. The bar area is upstairs, but the live music room lays downstairs, where the only other interest point was the toilet. We got there and did our soundcheck a couple of hours before we hit the stage. There wasn't anyone else at the venue other than us and the engineers, but we thought that's normal, given how early it was. However, the situation didn't improve, and we ended up playing to the engineers and our partners. It was a surreal experience. We were the 'headlining' band out of 3 acts (which we eventually found out is less of a privilege than we thought at pub-level in general, given that people tend to leave before the end of the night), but everyone from the other bands left to have a drink in the upstairs bar before we even played a single note, and they stayed there until well into the second half of our set.
We didn't really know what to make out of the experience. But, looking back, the number of people we had in the audience was about right for the effort we put into promoting the event. We were so convinced that we'd get the same numbers we got at The Garage (even though, statistically, very few people actually came to see us at that gig too) that we didn’t bother with 'trivialities' such as, well, promoting. And it showed. Truth be told, it wouldn't have been a good gig for more than the 5 in attendance anyway.
Sonically, everything was a bit all over the place, and there was no real cohesion between the instruments (partly because the only thing actually properly amplified and mixed was the vocal). Everything sounded empty and depthless, as we were performing as a power-trio, with no aid of tech that any working professional musician makes use of nowadays, such as midi triggering or backing tracks. We even went full old-school and attempted an improv that involved an old song from pre-Tuxedo times. And we do mean improv, as we were winging everything to such an extent that no-one had any clue what the structure was and when or how to end the jam.
Aesthetically speaking, we were a strange appearance on stage, which, in a way, fit the sound coming out of Surya’s pre-toilet room. You couldn't really tell we were musicians, as we looked like 9-to-5ers who came straight from the office. This attitude towards stage attire plagued all our early gigs. We didn't pay any attention to how we dressed onstage or in any of the promotional photos that we took. We thought that as long as we don't go onstage naked and we sound as good as Queen, we're doing things right. Of course, we were lacking on both fronts. But the Surya gig was not the one that opened our eyes to these quite severe and obvious problems. We had to go through a few more shows before we actually learned anything.
To be continued next Saturday. In the meantime, you can follow our journey on Instagram and Twitter @electrictuxedo. Thanks for reading!
