Over Fifty Years Behind the Microphone: What Has Changed?

 (Part 2) The Clubs: The Grassroots of Live Entertainment

Back in the 1970s, the North East club scene was vibrant. In fairness, the same could be said of many parts of the country. Social clubs were busy, live entertainment was a regular part of the calendar, and those venues provided opportunities for musicians and singers to develop their craft in front of real audiences.

The club circuit was, in many ways, the grassroots of the entertainment industry.

Some very successful performers built their reputations through working clubs and live venues before reaching a much wider audience. The likes of Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdinck and Shirley Bassey became household names, while Gary Barlow represents a much more recent generation of popular performers. Their career paths were different, but live performance has long been an important training ground for entertainers.

In those days, aspiring performers could dream of appearing on television talent shows such as Opportunity Knocks and New Faces. These programmes offered a route to a wider audience, but for many performers, the hard work had already taken place in pubs, clubs and other live venues, learning how to hold an audience's attention night after night.

You couldn't simply rely on a television appearance or a recording to make you an entertainer. You had to get out there and do it. You learned your craft through experience, by watching other performers, making mistakes, developing your stage presence and discovering what connected with the people in front of you.

“You Had to Be Good”

There was another important aspect of the club scene in those days: the audiences were demanding, and they could be very critical.

If you were performing in front of a crowd that had seen countless singers, bands and entertainers over the years, you had to give them something worthwhile. Being mediocre simply wasn't good enough. If you couldn't cut it, the audience would let you know, and there wasn't much prospect of building a lasting career on the circuit.

You had to be good. You had to develop your stagecraft, learn how to hold an audience's attention and deliver a performance that people wanted to see.

In many respects, the clubs were a proving ground. You learned by doing the job, night after night, in front of people who weren't necessarily going to give you the benefit of the doubt.

That could be a tough education, but it was a valuable one. It helped separate those who could genuinely entertain an audience from those who were still learning their trade.

And for those who survived and thrived on that circuit, the experience could provide a foundation for a lifetime in entertainment.

“So, Where Does the Future Lie?”

And so, where does that leave me today? I find myself asking a question I never expected to be quite so difficult to answer: where does the future lie for live music?

The traditional Working Men's and social club circuit is, in my experience, in serious decline. Pubs are facing their own challenges, with some struggling to remain open. As venues disappear, the opportunities for working musicians become increasingly limited.

For those of us who still want to perform professionally, finding somewhere to play has become an ongoing challenge. I'm constantly looking for new venues and new audiences, trying to find opportunities that allow me to continue doing what I've always loved.

The difficulty is that live entertainment is competing in a very different marketplace. Some venues turn to karaoke or seek entertainment at fees that simply aren't sustainable for a professional musician who has to cover the costs of running a business. Others book performers who are happy to supplement their income with occasional gigs for relatively modest fees. There's nothing wrong with people enjoying music as a hobby, but it can make it harder for those who depend on performing to earn a living to demonstrate the value of what they offer.

The opportunities haven't disappeared altogether, but they are changing. Care homes and retirement communities can provide valuable work, although budgets and available space are often limited. Private celebrations, milestone birthdays and anniversaries, corporate functions, community events and charity fundraisers offer other possibilities.

The challenge is finding the right venues, understanding what their audiences want and establishing a fee that works for both sides.

There's also a change in how some people perceive live music. Television talent shows and music streaming have made it possible to discover performers and listen to almost any song at the touch of a button. That's wonderful in many respects, but I sometimes wonder whether it has also made the work behind a professional live performance less visible.

I regularly receive requests for individual songs, as though a singer were a living jukebox or a human playlist. Of course, taking requests and performing familiar favourites is part of entertaining an audience, and I enjoy doing that. But there's a difference between playing a requested song and putting together a complete live show.

A performance lasting an hour or two doesn't simply happen by magic. It takes years of experience, a broad repertoire, careful preparation, an understanding of how to read an audience, and the ability to keep a room engaged. Then there's the practical side: sound equipment, microphones, speakers, transport, maintenance and all the other costs involved in delivering a professional performance.

The audience sees the finished product. Much of the work that makes it possible happens long before the first note is sung.

I don't pretend to have all the answers, and I'm not suggesting that the past was perfect or that every performer needs to follow the same path. But I do believe that experience, professionalism and the ability to entertain an audience have real value, and that value needs to be recognised if live music is to remain a viable livelihood.

For me, the answer isn't to spend the rest of my performing life complaining about what has disappeared. It's to keep looking for what comes next.

“The Show Must Go On”

So, after almost fifty years in the business, where does that leave me?

I'm still here, still singing, still looking for new venues and new audiences, and still trying to find ways to earn a living from something I've loved for most of my life.

The industry has changed beyond recognition since my first paid gig at the Black Swan in Guisborough, when my share of the takings amounted to around fifty pence. Back then, I went to school the next day feeling like a rock star. I can't promise that every gig gives me quite the same feeling today, but the enjoyment of performing is still there.

I don't know what the future holds for live music, or where the next opportunities will come from. What I do know is that audiences still enjoy familiar songs, a good performance and that special connection between an entertainer and the people in the room.

The venues may change. The technology may change. The way we find work and promote ourselves may change. But the pleasure of sharing music with an audience remains.

I'm not a household name, and I haven't played the world's biggest stages. But I've had a life in music, I've entertained a great many people along the way, and I'm not ready to put the microphone down just yet.

Perhaps that's the real lesson of nearly fifty years behind the microphone. You can't control how the industry changes, and you can't spend your life wishing things were as they used to be. You can only keep learning, keep adapting and keep looking for the next opportunity.

And if there's a young lad or lass out there singing along to their favourite songs today, dreaming of getting up on stage one day, I'd say this: learn your craft, respect your audience, work hard and enjoy every minute you can.

Because you never know where that first song might take you.

As for me? Well, I've still got songs to sing, audiences to entertain and a few more miles left in me yet.

The show must go on.