Audience of One

Acoustic Aid

Last night was the student-run Acoustic Aid concert – a misnomer if ever there was one due to the number of amps at the front of the “stage”. To be fair, I’m just being pedantic. The music wasn’t loud and was played on almost entirely electroacoustic instruments. Ironically, the one truly acoustic band (mine) were the loudest act due to two saxophones and a drum kit.

Walking down the darkened music department corridor (newly equipped with Santa’s-grotto-esque lights), the first thing that greeted you was a mass of students running around, trying to organise everything for the arrival of the first audience members. Accosted by the organiser with a terse “are you playing?”, I replied in the affirmative and was ushered into the venue.

Dazzling lights rotated around the larger music room, occasionally shining in your eyes so that spots appeared. Projected onto the wall were pictures of Bolivian street children in a Powerpoint slideshow. The charity we were raising money for had its name poster-painted to a sheet on the wall: “Acoustic Aid for Arco Iris”. Food being sold at the back included soya cakes and fair trade chocolate brownies (with some Cadbury’s Dairy Milk and Smarties slightly out of place underneath the “Fairtrade” sign). “It’s starting in five minutes and there’s no-one here!” One of the team running it started to panic, forgetting that to North Oxford citizens, 6.30pm means “turn up at 6.45, or 7 if you really can’t be bothered”.

To fill time while waiting for more people to arrive, I offered my musical services and played through a couple of songs on the piano as people were arriving. The “stage” was one end of the room sectioned off by a row of amplifiers (none too big to step over), and was carpeted with jack and mic cables. One particularly bright white light seemed to be directed at the piano stool, so I closed my eyes as I played – apparently it makes you look cool, but I just wanted to see afterwards.

The evening started at seven, as the most North Oxford influenced audience members turned up. The music of the evening was mainly guitar based, but one girl did a Nina Simone cover on the piano near the beginning, as well as her own composition. Talking to her later, I heard she was “angry” I hadn’t had my own solo slot and was just playing in the breaks.

The organisation was shambolic, but in some ways that made the evening more enjoyable. At recitals I’ve been to in the same room, the pressure is really on to play perfectly. The environment last night – with moody, moving lights and slightly disorganised rows of chairs – led itself to a much more relaxed evening. When two performers broke off halfway into their set to tune a new guitar and find a cable that worked (about a three minute delay) it was natural for the audience just to talk among themselves for a bit, and the response after the song was not muted one bit.

I was playing second to last with my band – this time with the addition of Ling, a singer, for two songs. We started with the most depressing song ever (you think Radiohead are depressing? Try “Gloomy Sunday”) – or at least up there with other depressing greats – and followed it by an upbeat blues (don’t you love oxymorons?). To finish off, we jammed around a riff apparently composed “while stoned in the south of France” – the sort of thing that distinguishes those who really like jazz from those who think Jamie Cullum/Amy Winehouse are fit.

The evening rounded off with a set from Ben and Joe, two year twelves I know. Ben was the compere of the evening and has an idiosyncratic compositional and organisational style (he achieved fame in last year’s talent contest for his song “Leonard the Laminator”, and just before starting one song, he called out into the audience to try and persuade someone to drum for him). Their set epitomised the slightly disorganised sprawl of the evening, as well as the standard of music – the quality seemed only dimmed by the slightly poor PA setup.

The evening appeared successful in terms of turn-out and music, but as with all such events, the success is down to how effective it was at its real purpose – in this case fundraising. Good music’s obviously good, but if you fail at your real purpose you might as well not do it.

Currently listening to Bedshaped – Keane.

Matthew @ 08:54, February 24, 2005 to Diary | Comments (2)