Showing posts with label Mercury Music Prize. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mercury Music Prize. Show all posts

Friday, 3 April 2026

Apr 3: Guest blogger Carl Lee #11: What is the Sound of the City?

The latest in a series of guest blog posts from Carl Lee.

What is the sound of the city? 

Can cities ever have a sound? 

Something so distinct and culturally resonating that from the first half a dozen bars, a place, an identity, a city sweeps into your mind? 

Does the Mersey really have a beat? 

Can you trip hop to Bristol, or wallow in grunge on the streets of Seattle? 

Clearly songs can evoke places and times. 

The Clash made sure you knew that London was calling in the early 1980s, and every Christmas since 1987 we have enjoyed/endured a Fairytale from New York. Maybe you can take a different stance and completely diss a city in song as Randy Newman does with finality about Baltimore: 

“Never gonna come back here 'til the day I die.” 

This is probably an outlier as most songs about cities or a sound associated with a city are seen as positive affirmations of the local culture and place. 

Some go further, with Jarvis Cocker’s X-rated homage to his home city Sheffield, ‘Sheffield Sex City’ of which, it might be observed, is more concerned with his idling smutty thoughts whilst in the housing benefit queue than the existential qualities of the city of Sheffield. 

Jarvis’s mate, and occasional musical collaborator, Richard Hawley has probably got a better stake in being considered, if not the sound of Sheffield, at least its preeminent musical chronicler in the 21st century. 

As Hawley himself has said of whether Sheffield has ‘a sound’, “it doesn’t really matter what type of music people make, what matters is that people are eager to play, to make music.” 

For Hawley music is a craft, something that needs to be honed and practiced. And some places, and times, are better at providing the opportunities to craft away, whatever the genre of music. 

In the late 1970s and 1980s a generation of musicians honed their craft whilst living on welfare benefits, Jarvis and Hawley amongst them. Local pubs provided them venues, an eco-system of support was developed, a market forged and sometimes fame found. 

In 1986, Sheffield Council opened the first municipal recording studios, Red Tape Studios, to support musical aspirations in a building that also housed recording studios owned by members of local bands the Human League and Comsat Angels. They were trying to create a burgeoning local music scene. In the next street was The Leadmill, Sheffield’s most famous music venue that at that time was a Sheffield Council supported charity. 

Image: Picture Sheffield.

Ownership of those private studios and the Leadmill has changed over time but Red Tape Studios remains as a local resource for aspiring musicians in Sheffield. 

In 2024 Ed Sheeran popped in to shower some pop glamour around whilst working with students on the ‘Tracks’ course provided by the Sheffield Music Centre. A more recent but equally ambitious project in Sheffield is the Harmony Works restoration of grade 2 listed Canada House into a music education hub with recording facilities and practice and performance spaces. 

This is happening side by side with a significant decline in music education in state schools, with A level music entries declining by 45% since 2010.

Sheffield is but one of many cities across the UK that are investing in their musical talent. 

Liverpool, Cardiff and Newcastle are further examples of local authorities engaging in the development of young musicians. And as Newcastle demonstrated in 2025 when Sam Fender won The Mercury Music Prize in the year it was hosted in his home city, this can be a significant source of local pride and cultural identity. 

As Fender proclaimed on stage in his home city "this region is the best region in the whole damn country".

Developing music craft is not the same as creating a distinctive musical sound that has a clear, unambiguous association to a particular place, even when lyrical references of a place and its culture litter the songs of artists singing about their experience in their home towns, cities and regions. 

Take away Sam Fender’s distinctive Geordie voice and the sound could also be the sound of Springsteen’s New Jersey, a continent away.  

The Arctic Monkeys are another case in point. In their early days they may have sung about the fact that “You’re not from New York City, you’re from Rotherham” but today they are clearly more New York City than Rotherham, and their mantle of South Yorkshire’s working class troubadours has well and truly been usurped by The Reytons who actually are from Rotherham, and very proudly so.  

When The Reytons played to 20,000 in Rotherham’s Clifton Park in July 2024 it was a gig they had organised themselves like virtually all of their career to date. 

Putting out their own music, managing themselves, organising their own tours and not bowing down to a global recording company.  They were the ‘Kids Off The Estate’, where ‘Clifton Park was like Disney Land”, coming home to prove a point that music, certainly their music, was a thing intrinsically rooted in their home even though their sound was not too dissimilar to that of many acts around, Sam Fender for example, who weren’t Rotherham estate kids. 

So the sounds of the city are many and can also sound like the sounds of somewhere else. 

But then there is New Orleans, and Nashville, and Havana, Cuba. All flies in my rhetorical anointment. 

Maybe the notion that anywhere can have a distinctive beat, melody or tone is simply nuanced and complex, like the world of music itself. 

Carl Lee is retired but was a lecturer at The University of Sheffield and Sheffield Hallam University, taught A level Geography for 20 years at Sheffield College, is the author of five books about geography and has a PhD in economic geography. He has been nuts about music since buying his first single in 1973: 10cc’s 'Rubber Bullets' if you were wondering.

 


Wednesday, 18 March 2026

Mar 18: Guest blogger Carl Lee #9: From Goa to John Lewis

The latest in a series of blog posts from Carl Lee. I hope you are enjoying them as much as I am... this one starts on the coast of India back in the late 1980s, when I was just starting my teaching career. 

From Goa to John Lewis

In 1988 I found myself heading south from Mumbai on the night-train to Panaji, the state capital of Goa on the west coast of India

Goa had been a Portuguese enclave, once part of the ‘Estado da India’ that also covered trading ports from Gujarat (Diu) to Kerala (Cochin), with roots as far back as the early 16th century. On India gaining independence from the British Empire in 1947 Goa remained a part of Portugal until 1961 when the Indian army invaded and seized control. 

Yet it was not until 1987 that Goa became a full state within India.    

Since the late 1960s, Goa had been an integral part of the over-land hippie trail

To some it was the final destination after Kabul, Kashmir and Kathmandu. An under-ground culture of beach-based hedonism developed, fuelled by hashish from the 3Ks. 

I would be disingenuous if I did not admit at this point that such hedonism was part of the attraction of Goa as I headed south on the train, and the fact that it was one of the few places in India you could get a cheap cold beer. 

Christmas was coming and Goa was beckoning.

I stayed for 6 weeks; co-renting an old, falling down, Portuguese colonial house from a nun, with its own well and ‘pig toilet’ (don’t ask). It was under a palm grove on the edge of the village of Vagator, a couple miles north of the ‘legendary’ beach resort of Anjuna with its hippie market and full moon parties. I was looking forward to going to a full-moon party and getting down to some Bob Marley, maybe a bit of soul and funk. What I wasn’t expecting was what I initially disparagingly called Italian electro-disco but later found out was some of the very early roots of acid house music. When was anybody going to put some reggae on? 

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goa_trance#/media/File:Vagator,_Goa,_India,_Trance_party_in_Goa,_Psychedelic_art.jpg

In the quiet rural Goan nights, finding a party wasn’t difficult - just head towards the thumping beat. And it was that beat, a repetitive four on the floor 120 to 150BPM, which jarred my musical sensibilities. On the beach at Vagator parties kicked off at sunset and rolled on way past sunrise. In such matters I was seriously lightweight - I only knew that they went on post sunrise because they kept me awake, woke me up, or we’d bump into the spaced-out stragglers as we sauntered down to the beach for breakfast.    

The disparate nationalities that were drawn to the Goan beach-party scene at that time were primarily European, a fair number of Australians and a surprisingly large Israeli contingent. Plenty of life’s flotsam; its damaged, its wayward, its idealistic and hedonistic was washing up on those Goan beaches but what they were listening too had legs way beyond the sand. 

The mash-up of electro, house and trance sounds that were being explored by those pioneer Goa DJs proved to be influential on the birth of acid house and its multitude of sub-genres that blossomed in the UK from 1988 onwards. It even spawned its own sub-genre ‘Goa Trance’ which had a particularly strong following in Israel with acts such as Astral Projection, Infected Mushroom and Astrix to the fore. 

Geographer Arun Saldanha’s 2007 book ‘Psychedelic White: Goa Trance and the Viscosity of Race’ ethnographically deconstructs the Goa dance culture through the prism of a materialist theory of race, which Brown University academic Masha Hassan extended with her 2025 analysis entitled “India’s Right-Wing Raves: Hindutva, Zionism and Psychedelic Trance’. 

You can waste an hour or so looking back on these Goan beach parties on You Tube with this one of ‘Goa trance party at Vagator, Goa 1992’ being pretty much as I remember, albeit four years previously. 

Goa trance party at Vagator, Goa 1992

Wild abandon on the dance floor where nobody cared what shapes you were throwing, and tracks that went on and on until they changed and you had not really noticed. Look closely and you’ll see that this is broadly a ‘Western’ event with locals relegated to servicing events: chai, food and taxis.  

The burgeoning dance music scene that exploded across the UK in the late 1980s and early 1990s became a significant cultural game-changer as well as having significant social impacts. It was open, accepting and crossed ethnicities and classes. 

It was not long before dance music escaped its under-ground transgressive vibe; the illegal raves in fields, warehouses, Castlemorton Common, SMS messages and the wave of ecstasy. 

By the early 1990s dance music jumped up everywhere, the charts, in the high street clubs and was cemented in popular culture when Primal Scream’s 1991 album ‘Screamadelica’ won the inaugural 1992 Mercury Music Prize. 

Here's the track 'Movin' on up'.

In 2025 the much-anticipated John Lewis Christmas television ad referenced those heady days of dance music frenzy to a generation now much more grown-up.

A father and his son on Christmas Day, hesitant around each other, make a connection through the gift of Alison Limerick’s 1990 floor-filler of a groove ‘Where Love Lives (Come On In)'

A track artfully selected by John Lewis’s ad company for maximum emotional impact. The father drops the needle and is taken back to those hedonistic dance floors of the 1990s when optimism was still in the air. Limerick's track was so explosive at the time blowing up clubs all over the world that early acid house DJ Danny Rampling said of in 1992 ‘that it will still sound good in 20 years’, and he is not wrong. 

Hear it for yourself with the classic club mix. 

It’s a bit more melodic than the squelchy beats and bleeps of the early Goa raves but its connection with them is clear. 

From spaced-out raver to ‘centrist dad’. It’s a journey many have probably made. 

References and reading.

“India’s Right-Wing Raves: Hindutva, Zionism and Psychedelic Trance’.

‘Psychedelic White: Goa Trance and the Viscosity of Race’ 

Carl Lee is retired but was a lecturer at The University of Sheffield and Sheffield Hallam University, taught A level Geography for 20 years at Sheffield College, is the author of five books about geography and has a PhD in economic geography. He has been nuts about music since buying his first single in 1973: 10cc’s 'Rubber Bullets' if you were wondering.