My request for the band Suede – please help to make live music accessible for your disabled and/or chronically ill fans who live in permanent lockdown.
I have a request for the music industry. I would like bands to start live streaming at least one performance from each tour, as standard. Not just in times of Covid, but always.
I’m kicking off my campaign (if I can call it that – so far it’s just me screaming into the void) with the band Suede for no other reason than timing. They just happen to be the band taking up the most space in my head at the moment, because they’re who I’d next be seeing live, if I were able to.
I was a teenager in the 90’s and I was obsessed with Britpop, a British music and cultural movement that grew out of a desire to place the spotlight on British indie music over the American grunge scene. Looking back, I actually have some reservations about Britpop, not with the music, which at the time I felt had saved me from my tween self whose musical tastes were, questionable, but with the movement as a whole. I didn’t recognise it back then, but now I see the nationalistic overtones, the whole ‘Cool Britannia’ thing that was so embraced by Tony Blair and New Labour, which gives me the cringe, and the overwhelming whiteness and maleness of the scene, it doesn’t sit quite right with me anymore. So while the movement may have been, in Brett Anderson from Suede’s own words, “…a laddish, distasteful, misogynistic, nationalistic cartoon“, and I think we can agree it’s best left in the past, I am still very fond of a lot of the music from the time.
Despite my fondness for the music though, I rarely listen to it anymore, not unless I’m feeling particularly sentimental. The one exception is Suede. Suede I listen to not for the sake of nostalgia, but simply because they’re great. Their last three albums, since they reformed after splitting up, have been sensational, with their last album being, in my opinion, an absolute masterpiece. Unlike many bands who seem to get a bit lost the further away they get from their heyday, Suede, since their comeback, have been consistently strong, it could be said that they just get better with age.
My current top five albums in no particular order:
The Blue Hour, by Suede
Enter 4, by Hjaltalín
Team Dreams, by Sóley, Sin Fang & Örvar Smárason (their 2017 collaboration)
Island Intervals, by Death Vessel
Hvarf/Heim, by Sigur Rós (a compilation album)Click on the album titles to listen to these on Spotify.
As a young teenager I’d heard of Suede, but it wasn’t until the release of their third album, Coming Up, that I really got into them, which happens to have been twenty five years ago this month, and I was sixteen years old. My friends and I had managed to obtain almost complete control over the jukebox in our high school canteen, and I still can’t listen to the song ‘Trash’ from Coming Up without flashbacks to our usual lunch table, next to the jukebox, obvs!
Despite Suede featuring heavily in the soundtrack of my teenage years, for some reason I never saw them live, and I have no idea why. I had pretty relaxed parents who were happy to let me go into Edinburgh or Glasgow, even on a school night, to go to gigs, usually at the Liquid Room or the Glasgow Barrowlands. My friends and I always got there early to be at the front of the queue to ensure we got a place right at the front by the barrier. I’ve held many a sweaty hand of various Britpop singers, and I almost always managed to get hold of one of the setlists that had been taped to the stage floor. I have so many wonderful memories of the gigs I went to in the 90’s, but none of Suede, and that’s something I really regret.
With that in mind, it perhaps wasn’t surprising that when Suede announced a tour to mark the 25th anniversary of the release of Coming Up, I excitedly booked a ticket. I’d finally get to see them live, and I’d get to relive the 90’s with the promise that they’d be performing Coming Up in full. There’s a bit of problem though… I have severe ME and I’m predominantly housebound.
So why did I do it? Because I’m addicted to my old life, the life I had before ME. The desire to do the things that make me happy never went away. All I could focus on was the idea of getting to see Suede perform the album that I first discovered them with, and my natural instincts kicked in.
I’m not completely detached from reality, I was fully aware that I may never get to use the ticket. When a situation like this arises though, I can’t help but make myself believe that a spontaneous and miraculous recovery isn’t completely out of the question, and I certainly can’t go if I don’t have a ticket. That’s how I manage to justify it.
But after the anticipation, buzz and excitement of securing a ticket, comes the depression and anxiety as I scold myself for being stupid enough to put myself through this again. Because I’ve done this before. It turns out that I have a pattern when it comes to this particular situation…
- I see an announcement about a concert that I’d like to attend and…
- I check when the tickets go on sale.
- I check the dates of the concert to ensure I don’t have a hospital appointment that week.
- I go to the venue website to check out access and look for the seating plan to find out where the wheelchair spaces are.
- I look to see if I’ll be able to book a wheelchair space online but somewhat ironically accessible tickets are never available online (ahem, accessibly), so I email the venue to ask how I go about booking an accessible ticket and hope they reply before the tickets go on sale and sell out. *I can’t call them because speaking on the phone triggers my migraines and I already average eighteen migraine days per month.
- I find out where the closest accessible parking to the venue is and check that I can use my Blue Badge there.
- I find someone who can drive me and accompany me using the free companion ticket that tends to come with an accessible ticket.
- I check the refund policy, because it’s not like I can sell a wheelchair space on Gumtree and there are always so few wheelchair spaces that I want to give someone else the chance to buy it if I can’t go.
- If, by the time I have all the information I need (which can take a few days because this stuff is never made freely available on their website and emailing back and forth takes time) and the tickets haven’t already sold out (which has happened), I book my ticket(s).
- I spend a long time hoping I can actually make it this time. Every time I don’t crash as badly as I think I will, or I don’t have a migraine when I usually would, I start to wonder if my ME is improving.
- But inevitably I conclude that I won’t be able to go, so I contact the box office and either get a refund or lose the money.
- My mental health will then suffer as my heart aches for everything I’m missing and I’ll feel increasingly resentful of all the people who have the privilege of being able to do the things they want to do.
- I’ll tell myself to never do this again.
- I’ll do it again, because life is just too tempting.
This pattern that I follow is driven by my longing to live my life as I did before ME, and even after seven years, letting go of that is not as easy as you might think. Saying that, if you found it difficult not being able to do the things you usually enjoy during lockdown, then you may well have an inkling of understanding. The longer it goes on doesn’t make it any easier by the way, well it hasn’t for me.
So this is exactly what I did when Suede announced their Coming Up anniversary tour. It was originally meant to be in October 2020 but Covid forced them to reschedule, which they did for April 2021, and then Covid forced another change of date, to November 2021, performing at The Usher Hall in Edinburgh on 3rd November.
I might have been the only person who was delighted by the repeated postponement of the tour, because the further away it was, the longer I would have for my miraculous recovery. Now it’s less than two months away, and I won’t be going. That’s pretty much a complete certainty.
The day of the concert will be difficult for me. I’ll have to avoid social media so I don’t see photos or mentions of the concert – deliberately isolating myself even further than I already am in order to shield myself. Then afterwards I’ll be too sad to listen to Suede for a while because it will remind me of missing the concert, and everything else that I’m missing because of this illness.
Online events don’t have to be just for lockdown.
However, there is something that Suede could do to save me, and others like me, from this cycle of emotional trauma. With every tour they go on, they could live stream one of their performances, for a fee, if they wish, I’d pay for a virtual ticket, to allow their housebound fans to participate in the live music experience.
If I knew from the beginning that attending the concert virtually was an option, it would save me from repeating my ridiculous pattern, the crushing disappointment that it always brings and the subsequent crash that my ME will suffer.
My hope is that the live stream would also be made available to tickets holders for a time after the initial event as well. This would allow those of us with energy impairments and/or fluctuating conditions time to watch it after the live stream, or in short chunks over a few days, if that’s what we need.
Importantly, I would also hope that when the band address the audience, they include those of us at home. This would give us a sense of belonging, allow us to feel included, part of the experience, and as valued as the audience that they see standing right in front of them.
Of course it won’t be the same as attending a concert in person, there’s no substitute for the energy or the atmosphere, but it’s the best doable solution that I can think of. It will go a little way at least in closing the gap between live music fans who are housebound due to disability and/or chronic illness, and the bands that they love.
What I’m proposing isn’t particularly radical, but it’s something that we all know can be done, lockdown taught us so. So now it’s just a matter of, do Suede and the music industry at large want to make their live shows accessible to housebound fans? Yes or no?
I’ve tried to make contact with Suede’s people in the hope they would offer to trial my idea on the upcoming tour, but they’re proving to be impossible to reach, or at least impossible to elicit a reply from. I tried Twitter and Facebook, and heard nothing. I emailed the manager of Suede’s fan club, The Insatiable Ones, and asked if they could help. They liked my idea and forwarded my email to the band’s management, but they didn’t respond.
I genuinely thought that my proposal might be something that Suede would consider. Last year, to compensate for the postponement of the tour, they regularly shared old live performances on YouTube. So they do seem to recognise the value of making their music accessible, but sadly it seems that this was only for the time when it primarily benefited fans who were temporarily stuck at home. When it would primarily benefit disabled fans who are permanently housebound, it seems it’s less of a priority.
“…people seem unable to acknowledge that everything they’ve found hardest about the last year is just a way of life for many of us. And now they’re “back to normal” and it feels like we’re forgotten and left behind all over again. It’s hard.”@lornamcfindy, Twitter
At the start of lockdown it was heartwarming to see how communities rallied to support their vulnerable neighbours, and how society opened up and offered online opportunities that disabled people have dreamt of for years. I’d hoped that this new more accessible society would stick around, but now that non-disabled people have decided it’s time for life to go back to ‘normal’, there’s been a noticeable shift in attitudes towards vulnerable/disabled people. This is something that I’m finding incredibly difficult to witness, traumatic even, to see the world opening back up for most people, while closing down again for disabled people. Knowing that access to such events was always possible, but that it was only done (mainly) for the benefit of non-disabled people, for the short time they needed it, really stings.
My guess as to why this is happening is that disabled people just aren’t high on non-disabled people’s radars, if at all. Unless someone is disabled themselves, or they care for a disabled family member, or they work for a disability organisation/charity, generally speaking, people don’t tend to consider disabled people.
The last concert I went to was in Reykjavík, Iceland, in December 2017. As I was planning the trip I asked in an Iceland travel based Facebook group if anyone could tell me the rough cost of a taxi from the bus terminal to the street where my Airbnb was. I made it clear that I’d been to Reykjavík many times before and I knew it was a short distance. These are the replies I got…
“If the weather is good and you don’t have a lot of luggage walking is easy.”
“I would walk both trips with ‘the long way around’…Plenty to see and feel if eyes and heart are open.”
“You can walk there. It’s about ten minutes.”
No one considered the fact that I was asking this question for a reason. No one considered that I would need to take a taxi (for what I acknowledged to be a short distance because I’d been there before) because I am disabled. They all assumed that walking was an option, even when I’d given them a pretty big hint that it wasn’t. For the full story of this little holiday read Post Twenty Three. Wheelchair’s First Holiday.
Perhaps this ableist attitude stems from the fact that disability tends to be a foreign and scary concept for most people. They hate to think that it’s something that will ever touch them, so it’s easier to pretend it’s not there at all, but disability can happen to anyone. It’s the one minority group that anyone can join, it could happen to you tomorrow. It doesn’t matter how healthy you are, how much yoga you do, how many wellness blogs you subscribe to, how many vitamins you take, or how ‘clean’ your diet is… whether through an accident or injury, genetics or bad luck, you could become disabled one day.
Disability is not as far away from most people as they think it is, so it’s best not to pretend it’s not there. Instead, acknowledge it, welcome it, and be active in creating a more accessible world. Then if you yourself one day become disabled, you’ll have far more equal opportunities to participate in society than those who came before you.
The Social Model of Disability
The model says that people are disabled by barriers in society, not by their impairment or difference. Barriers can be physical, like buildings not having accessible toilets. Or they can be caused by people’s attitudes to difference, like assuming disabled people can’t do certain things.
The social model helps us recognise barriers that make life harder for disabled people. Removing these barriers creates equality and offers disabled people more independence, choice and control.SCOPE
Sadly it’s a common attitude of non-disabled people though, that disabled people have no interest in the world around them. That we aren’t well-rounded autonomous human beings with hobbies, interests and passions, just the same as non-disabled people. So they have little in the way of motivation to make the changes that would allow disabled people to fully participate in society.
The only reason I can think of why live-streaming events isn’t the norm, outside of a pandemic, is because the people who make events have simply never considered that there’s an audience. Either they genuinely don’t know that housebound people exist, or they they fall into the camp of “why would disabled people want this?”. They’ve been so well conditioned by a society that dehumanises disabled people, that they don’t realise that disabled people crave joy and variety from life as much as they do.
“And perhaps that’s part of the problem. Cultural prejudice around disability means it is still too often assumed that disabled people do not actually “have a life, just like anyone else”: that they don’t have careers, relationships, interests or children.”Frances Ryan, The Guardian
We’re lucky to live in a world in which the knowledge and technology exists to allow online access to events, so why aren’t we fully embracing it? Thanks to lockdown we all understand the value that it brings, so why wouldn’t we want to open up the world and bring joy to those who are forced to live in permanent lockdown?
I don’t know how to reach them.
While I had little luck with Suede’s management, I’m wondering if I’d have better luck with the band members themselves.
I could really do with this blog post somehow falling into the laps of Brett Anderson, Neil Codling, Simon Gilbert, Richard Oakes and/or Mat Osman. I don’t have a clue how to make contact with them though, not with the impenetrable wall that is their management standing between me and them.
So please PLEASE share the crap out of this post!!!
On the remote chance that I can make contact with Suede and they agree to trial my idea, I’m hoping I can use that as a launch pad to start a proper campaign, and have other bands/artists/musicians follow suit.
It would make me deliriously happy if this could happen in time for the Coming Up tour, but I expect it’s too late now. I believe they have a new album in the works though, so maybe then…
I’m quite sure that Suede have the power to make this happen. I can only hope that they value their invisible fans enough to be the band who lead the way in improving access to live music.
Wouldn’t that be a tremendous thing!
UPDATE – Friday 17th September
After publishing this post (on Tuesday 14th September) I contacted Suede’s manager directly (I managed to correctly guess his email address!) to explain my situation and I included a link to my blog. Yesterday I received a lovely reply.
It was a really encouraging email.
He likes the idea a lot and he understands how inclusive and significant it would be for the band’s disabled/housebound fans to be able to access Suede’s live shows via a live stream.
As I suspected it’s too soon to be able to make it happen for the Coming Up tour in November, but he and the band’s tour manager are discussing how they might be able to make it work for future tours. Though they can’t make any guarantees.
Overall I felt it was a really positive response.
He also commented on how well I explained my situation regarding gig-going, how well written it was, and that I got my message across incredibly well, which was very kind of him.
I’ll share any further updates if/when they happen.
For my personal ‘best of Suede’, click here to take you to a Spotify playlist I made recently for a friend. It’s in chronological order and includes 1-3 songs from all but one of their albums, and 2 b-sides. All of my favourites!
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