Halifax has lost another of its infamous, charming and inimitable venues. A full-on, apocalyptic assault by liquor boards and fire boards alike left our beloved Tribeca with no choice but to pack it up, forcing us to find another spot to stumble around the floor, drinking and swaying the night away. Following an already relentless string of unfortunate cabaret closings and clamourings about licenses, the loss of Tribeca has left Halifax in the lurch as students wander around listlessly at night, drunken and aimless, while promoters scratch their heads as they scramble for somewhere else to book their bands.
OK, so it’s not that bad; Halifax still has plenty of venues, many of them beautiful, bustling staples of the scene, but Halifax really is caught in an unfortunate catch-22 situation when it comes to mid-level venue space. Since the closure of the Marquee – for the second time – in 2008, Halifax has been severely hurting for a medium sized venue and, as a result, we’ve been missing out on a multitude of great mid-level bands as well. Venues in Halifax have basically had to cater to a particular facet of the ever-fickle music scene: go the overtly indie route and only book up-and-comers, or go belly up.
When the Weakerthans swooped into Halifax in 2009, I remember wondering why the hell they were playing at the Palace, which I had no idea even booked bands, and then realizing that there was really no other place that could cater to them. The Paragon took over the building that housed the Marquee a while later, and there was a short-lived glimmer of hope as great acts like Plants and Animals and The Most Serene Republic were tearing up the place, but ultimately the Paragon folded due to stunted income and attendance. Reflections has been holding its own in this increasingly hostile climate, but following the denial of their cabaret license for their proposed move to the ill-fated building on Gottingen that previously housed both the Marquee and the Paragon, it could get rough. This year’s Pop Explosion saw the city relying heavily on venues like St. Matthew’s Church and Olympic Community Hall for bigger shows like Chad VanGaalen or Rural Alberta Advantage, bands that otherwise might be at a loss for somewhere to play in our (un)fair city.
Sadly, with Halifax and venues it has become a “chicken or the egg” situation: can we not get bands because we don’t have venue space, or do we not have venue space because bands don’t come here? Halifax musical alumnus and soothsayer Joel Plaskett on 2007’s Ashtray Rock sang that he “Walked home across the bridge when the Marquee shut down, there’s a reason that I love this town,” and it appears he just kept walking—because even Plaskett isn’t making room on his upcoming Canadian tour for Halifax.
Halifax is experiencing a marvellous musical renaissance right now, but only at extreme ends of the spectrum. The local independent scene in Halifax is healthier than it has been since Halifax was coined the “Canadian Seattle” in the mid 1990s, with quick-witted, irreverent bands like Quaker Parents achieving a lush local infamy and pop powerhouses like Rich Aucoin being catapulted to an international level. Not only that, but we’ve been rolling around in cash and dilapidated Dad-rock as we cart in all the affluent and acclaimed over-the-hillers like Paul McCartney and Elton John, also pushing hard for big-name “movers and shakers” like Weezer, Rihanna or the Black Eyed Peas with the yearly mainstream onslaught on the Commons, setting up Halifax as the hot-spot for huge acts you would totally go see—back when they were relevant.
While Gus’ Pub is perpetually raucous, dancy and absurdly fun, and the Seahorse maintains its historical and ubiquitous foothold on the downtown scene, they both have their own niche crowds and a lack of space. The Company House is warm, cozy and serves up affected indie folk like no one’s business, but they refuse to book certain genres and again, capacity is a problem. Their next door neighbour, the Bus Stop Theatre, has a great intimate space that’s seriously under-used and under-appreciated, but maintains a certain charming air. Unless you’re someone who can fill the bleak and dour concrete box we call the Metro Centre or the equally lacklustre footage of the Cunard Centre, you might convince Molson to quickly convert the Olympic Community Hall or that seedy place at the Forum next to the bingo hall into an expensive, sponsored bar and stage. But, as it stands—you’re pretty much screwed.
Recent Comments