It's been with us for more than three years now. The Licensing Act (2003) finally came into force in November 2005, just in time to cheer us up for Christmas. In case you've forgotten, this was the masterpiece of New Labour legislation that aimed to turn us all into sophisticated continentals, toying with a glass of Muscadet and an olive or two, by introducing 24-hour drinking. The results, as we all know, have been somewhat less than encouraging.
If you think that was the whole story, take a look at another area of the Act, one that affects musicians and entertainers. I refer to that part dealing with public entertainment. To put it in a nutshell, the law now says that you can't play or sing, or maybe even whistle, in a place of public resort unless that place has a music licence. This doesn't apply to music emanating from juke- boxes, or radios, or the sound systems of DJs, or mammoth TV screens showing 'live sport' (whatever that may be), none of which require a licence. No - the law only applies to music played in-person by real people on real instruments or sung through human mouths. All attempts to extract a rational explanatiion for this blatant persecution of live music have failed.
What does it mean in practice? Well, you can't, for instance, have a cocktail pianist playing in a cocktail bar, but you can have a recording of a cocktail pianist playing in a cocktail bar. You can't have a string quartet to accompany the tinking teacups in the Palm Court, but you can have a televised football match down at the pub, keeping the local fans in good voice. (They can yell all they like, because noises-off don't count for licensing purposes.) A social get-together in your village hall? Watch out! Don't let old George start one of his sing-songs around the piano or you'll be for it.
When musicians have the temerity to complain about this nonsense they are met with demands for 'evidence' that the Act has destroyed work opportunities. This is a cheap trick. 'Evidence' means actual examples of gigs that have disappeared purely as a result of new licensing regulations. But things don't work like that. Gigs come and go. Venues open and close for all kinds of reasons, or for no reason at all. The real question should be, what evidence is there that the act has improved work opportunities, expanded the range of live music available to the public and added to the broad cultural well-being of the nation? Because if it doesn't make things demonstrably better it shouldn't be there in the first place.
You can't prove a negative. You can't show how many performances didn't take place becuase the proprietor couldn't face another lot of paper work, or the promoter had run out of licensed venues in the locality.
'Ah,!' they say, 'but we consulted widely before drawing up this law.' When politicians say they have 'consulted widely', what do they mean? In this case it seems to mean that they consulted the Harvey Goldsmiths of this world, who put on events in huge venues; or pop stars, few of whom ever worked as grassroots musicians; or local authorites, who see the issuing of entertainment licences as a souce of ready cash; or the Police, who would prefer us all to stay at home watching the telly in the evening. Nobody ever consulted me nor anyone I know. Nor anyone I ever met.
So here's a question I should like answered. Why can't I go to any suitable place with a decent-sized room to hire, hand over a night's rent and put on a gig for, say, 50 to 100 people? Why should that be potentially more dangerous or destructive to society than juke-boxes, radios, DJs or the lager-fuelled devotees of 'live sport'?
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