The Basement Is Gone

By now, you must have heard the news — The Basement is closing down.

The place that has been one of the epicentres of culture in our beloved city of Sydney is closing its doors for good. A formal statement would be announced today, but informally, people have been speaking about it for a few days now. The last show will be Saturday night, after which it will be turned into office spaces.

As it closes, it will join the many other music venues, large and small, that have gone to a better place these past few years. As it closes, it will be the latest step in a cultural extinction we are sadly spectating on.

This article is written to celebrate and commemorate this fantastic establishment and to enrage you all, to fight against the dying of the light.

Wait, What, How Do You Know This?

Last night was the last evening of the Monday Jam, a many-year-long project that has been meeting up every Monday to showcase some great jazz, blues and roots from across Sydney. Over the years, the night has constantly fallen in and out of fashion amongst different circles, but one aspect of it stayed true, it brought together musicians and music lovers from across the industry, under one roof. I used to go to it religiously, until it fizzled out of my routine, but when I heard the word that it is going to be the last one, the last one at the Basement at least, I had to come. Like me, the call was answered far and wide. Hundreds of people flocked to the Basement yesterday, to beg it farewell, celebrate and mourn its fortune, and hope to figure out what the hell is going on.

The Story You Will Hear

Going to the Basement last night, was an exercise in piecing together information. For a while, there was no official addressing of the statement. Spectators spoke amongst themselves and pieced together rumours they have heard. “Its being turned into office spaces”, “Developers want to make more money of it”, “They have only been given a few days notice”. It sounded awful.

At some point, the bar manager got up on stage and made a personal statement. She told us that the staff have only just been told a few days ago that Saturday will be their last shift. Still shocked at the news, you could see she was finding it hard to find her words and make sense of it all, even as she is was there on stage, in front of hundreds who are expecting her to make sense of it to them. Once it was all said and done, the rumours were confirmed. The place is closing, there are no current plans for re-opening it, it will be turned into office spaces, and Sydney will lose the one place that we never felt we could lose — The old, still beating heart of music, that generations in the cities have been going to for years.

The whole story felt odd to me. How could they give such a short notice.It seems like a classic land grab manoeuvre, the whole thing being kept hush-hush, so that developers could slid it under the radar. “Someone needs to do something!” I thought. “Where is Keep Sydney Open? Where is Clover Moore? Someone must stop this from happening!”

I went out for a smoke, and I never smoke, trying to make sense of the situation. I soon found myself doing the only sensible thing I could think of — I messaged Clover, notifying her of this issue.

My friend and I walked inside soon after, still confused, a little defiant, but mostly defeated, hoping to get a few last dances and tunes before our Sydney temple collapses in on us.

An Alternative Truth

Soon after we walked back in, we saw a backdoor that should have been closed, open, and some people coming in and out. We went up to it, noticed an older guy speaking to the security guard about the situation. I can’t remember what I said to them, or what they said to me in reply, but the realisation was immediate. I was speaking to the owner. It felt like a scene out of movie. Moments before, as I was enraged at the situation, I walk in, only to be distracted at some light from the back corner of the venue, and there, was the owner, ready to share with the real story with me.

We spoke for a while, a good half an hour I think, and I soon realised that this narrative I had in my head, a conspiracy theory almost, of the lock-outs, ruining our city, and developers trying to land grab this spot — was far from the truth.

“Everything you hear on social media is crap”, he said. “I can claim that it’s the Lock Outs sure. But the real reason? I have been losing money on this place for years. I just don’t want to lose any more money”.

The owner took over this establishment about five years ago. I remember the move because he renovated aspects of the space and made it so much cooler than the previous version of it, which was already quite wonderful. But as it turned out, the place has been bleeding money for years now. I won’t mention the exact number, but it’s a lot.

“But, you can’t close it, I said. This place is an establishment. More than that, its the epicentre of Sydney’s culture. If this place falls, nothing is protected”. “You want to give me some money?” he said, “I can’t keep this place open, and lose money, just for you to feel better about the city”. “It breaks my heart” he said, “I look around tonight, and the place is packed. I have hundreds of people here…Where have you all been last week and the week before?” “We are closing because people don’t come”.

‘We are closing because people don’t come’. It echoed in my mind. That’s the real reason this place is closing. We are the reason. We don’t come to gigs, not enough to support the running of this place. Forget about lock-outs, and developers. This atrocity, this extinction of culture, it’s us. This place is closing because we don’t put our money and feet where our mouth is.

He then continued

“Clover Moore doesn’t want this place to close, the developers don’t want this place to close either… but I don’t want to sign a new lease, and lose more money in the process”.

I found it hard to maintain the conversation with him. The ‘we are the problem’ realisation was still echoing in my head. “Where were [we] last week, the week before, the years before?”. This is the reason many other places close as well, I realised. Sure we can always say that the lock-outs and the policies have affected some undercurrent of the ecosystem that slowly trickles down, and i’m sure it is indeed a contributing factor. But the main reason this place is closing? It is us. The more we stay at home, the less places will exist for us to leave to.

I heard it from the horse’s mouth. There is no conspiracy. We just don’t go out to support music often enough.

An Obsession with the Lockouts.

Apologies if I continue this rant for a tad longer, but this topic has long been on my mind. We are so obsessed with the lock outs and with the nanny state situation of our city that we have made it into a scapegoat to all of our ills. A few years ago I wrote about this topic, where I expressed a fear I have regarding this obsession — The more we focus on what we are against, the less we invest our energy in what we want. The result? the more we have to mourn.

An Alternative Business Model

There was something else that I found interesting in what the owner of The Basement told me. “the business model is all wrong” he said. “This place is packed, the most packed we have ever been. But no one can get to the bar”.

Venues like The Basement make their money from bar sales. The tickets go to the performers, but if people don’t buy drinks, then have it full any day of the week, the basement is still not making money. Ok let’s be more serious, if the place was as packed as it was last night, I’m certain that it will be more likely to stay open, but the thought regarding an alternative business model struck a chord.

It is perhaps worth its own long piece to delve into, but I will try and address it by dedicating just a few more lines.

I wonder if a different business model would have saved The Basement, or any other music venue of that sort. Imagine if the place was run on more of a patronage basis than drinks. Many people are familiar with crowdfunding, many with Kickstarter, less are familiar with Patreon. Patreon is common in the creative field. It is a form of ongoing crowdfunding — an artist tells its audience, “you like what I do?” then please support me on a monthly basis and I will continue creating this thing that you love. I wonder if The Basement took a similar stance, saying to Sydney, we are losing money! we have to change our business model or we will close! You love what we do? you mourn our approaching demise? Then please become a monthly Patreon to the venue. Buy us a drink every month and we will keep the heart beating.

Or perhaps, the place needs some larger patronage? Perhaps the right approach is to go to big music-loving donors and tell them, “would you like to be our Medicis?” “This city needs music and culture, but we are not able to keep it alive. Would you support us?” The big donor could be the council, big brands or any philanthropists, the idea is the same. Support culture by supporting us.

The real solution is probably a combination of a bunch of approaches. Take a cut of the door, make it easier to get drinks, set up a crowdfunding patronage, and get some big Medicis like supporters to hold it all together.

What Can You Do?

Look, what’s done is done. The basement is probably gone for good, or at least until someone will buy and relaunch the brand elsewhere. But be it this way or another, we have lost the space, the years of continuity, and our sense of immunity — If The Basement falls, nothing is protected. Want to do something about it? Go out for the last few nights that it is still open. Last night was not the last evening, Saturday is, and there are still a few shows between now and then. Look for the timetable to find one that works for you.

Gone Out With A Bang

If The Basement is gone, at least it has gone out with a bang. As I said, there are still a few shows left, but last night, that’s when it was really felt. There were faces from every part of the music scene, all under one roof, all coming together for the same reason.

Amongst the crowd, a friend and I were appreciating the scene — “The share amount of musicians in this place could power the city” he said.

“Oh how I wish”, I thought, ‘that the share amount of musicians will power the city’. “Oh how I wish”.