Now I’m not at all musical, unless you count my hips involuntarily jiggling to the sound of a good beat. Which might explain how I ended up married to a drummer.
In Brighton at our small club we have Muso Jam Days on the last Sunday of the month. It attracts an incredible lineup of local musos from across Dunedin.
Last Sunday my son Fin, 8, jumped up on the drums with his dad’s band The Otokia Kollective. He’d never have had the confidence if he hadn’t seen his local teenage idol 14-year-old Leo’s band first, and then Leo’s talented sister Zoe, 11, sing with her mum Rosie. Usually, their dad Nathan gets up and sings some gravelly rock notes later on as well — talk about family life goals.
You wouldn’t get a family show like that at a pub. Pubs are for drinking first, entertainment second, and the music starts well after kids’ bedtime.
But there’s only so many pub gigs and repeats of Wagon Wheel a muso can play. Your average pub punter wants to hear their favourite covers — they’re not there to expand their music horizons. If a band plays an original and clears the floor, it’s pretty soul-destroying.
Besides, live music in pubs and clubs is becoming rarer and rarer. Patronage is unpredictable, capacity is limited and bands are (rightly so) expensive. Music isn’t bars’ core business. If they can make just as much over the bar with a DJ, who can blame them?
But where do the local musos go?
And what about those of us who don’t always want our social lives to revolve around booze? I’m no saint, but when I do decide to have a break from the drink I become a pariah, avoiding social functions that revolve around the bar.
I’m not the only one who likes to abstain occasionally but still likes to be around humans. Who is an extrovert, but has an aversion to small talk. A good gig, event or conference gives me something to wrap my attention around.
Being a member of a crowd provides a common and quiet (or not so quiet) acknowledgement that you share an appreciation and so are all there together. A sense of community.
Which is why I’m writing this piece in support of Errick’s Venue. Located in the former New New New Brewery near the Oval, Errick’s is a new multi-purpose venue founded by two generations of hospitality legends and owners of Ombrello’s Kitchen and Bar, Mili Oxley Lobo and her husband Bayden Oxley, supported by Ed and Michelle Lobo.
Unfortunately, the family have found themselves navigating the 2GP zoning restrictions and are going through a retrospective resource consent process for venue approval of up to 500.
Smaller venues in this city are hard work. They’re not big enough for the nationally touring bands and smaller local acts don’t have a big enough following to fill them alone — leaving the operator in a no-man’s land of struggling to get ticket sales to offset the costs of production. We’ve seen this with many recent public closures such as Dive, Sammy’s, Starters and Dog with Two Tails.
It’s not all music at Errick’s either — on the weekend I went to The Vintage Roundup. Fin got himself a very funky vintage ’80s block colour faux leather jacket, which conveniently fits his mum too. The markets were humming and what a fun, friendly and banter-filled room.
Last Wednesday I spoke at the inaugural Elevate: Women’s Journeys conference at Errick’s. Eighty women from across Otago and Southland turned out to hear a range of us talk about our career journeys, challenges and aspirations.
It was a fantastic high-value production, with sponsorship from several local female-owned businesses showcasing their wares from the venue itself, to the catering.
Late last year I went to see former Dunedin band and now internationally touring Summer Thieves at Errick’s. I’d only heard one of their songs before, but I was curious and wanted to discover something new.
Summer Thieves and similar nationally touring bands often skip Dunedin because venues are either too big or too small, or theatre style which is not their rock jam. It was a sold-out 300-ticket event, opened by the Otepoti All Stars — giving the All Stars a platform to expand their Dunedin fanbase.
In July I’ll be one of the first through the doors of Errick’s to see Lobo Winterfest, headlined by Black Comet (Laughton Kora’s funk band) and featuring a lineup of seven bands from across New Zealand, the bulk local.
A couple of Brighton bands, including The Otokia Kollective, are in the lineup. They’re stoked and more than a little nervous — there aren’t very many opportunities for locals to play to a room of 300.
It’s hard to make a living as a musician, entertainer or small business. It’s also hard finding community events to gather around.
A venue like Errick’s is so much more than music and booze — it’s an opportunity to connect with the community, for a small business to network, a platform for a local band to launch and for aspiring musicians to see what they could be.
- Sarah Ramsay is chief executive of United Machinists.
