Is Barcelona's Live Music Scene Dead?

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Like many local businesses, concert venues have been drastically impacted by the pandemic. Some of them are hanging in there, but others are on the verge of closing their doors for good.

The problems this particular kind of business face weren’t created by the pandemic, but they were exacerbated by it. The perceived monetary value of music in general has taken a global hit ever since piracy became a problem in the early 2000s—Spain has long been known as one of the worst offenders in terms of illegal downloads—and the value people placed on live music is an even more complex issue that has to do with a host of cultural norms. For all the city’s artistic diversity, getting people to pay to come to concerts isn’t easy even in the best of times.

When the pandemic forced the closure of all clubs and concert halls, some economic support was offered in the form of federal and regional subsidies and ICO loans, but these were only intended to be short-term solutions. Although these businesses have repeatedly requested more assistance from the government and/or a reevaluation of the restrictions that have been imposed on them, as the Spanish Minister of Culture said at the start of the pandemic, the cultural sector is “not one of the government’s top priorities during this time of crisis.” 

As the months drag on, these temporary measures won’t be enough to prevent the disappearance of these venues—especially the smaller ones—if something doesn’t change.

El Último Concierto (The Last Concert)

Those venues that reopened after the initial three months of quarantine have only been able to do so at 30% capacity, and only if they also comply with a number of additional safety regulations. The regulations have been significantly more restrictive than the limits placed on theaters, cinemas and auditoriums. Reduced capacity, reduced operating hours, as well as the 22:00 curfew that is projected to last through May 2021 mean that a business that depends on concerts to keep its lights on has no viable way of covering its fixed monthly costs: rent, utilities, insurance and payroll.

In the fall of last year, venues around Spain hung black banners on their doors with their name, the year the business was founded, a dash, then the year 2020 with a question mark next to it. They all said the same thing: “El Último Concierto?” They all looked like building-sized gravestones with the death date waiting to be filled in. 

The initiative, designed to raise public awareness of the precarious state that the venues were in after months of the pandemic, was organized by five different associations representing the interests of concert venues across Spain. It culminated with a simultaneous streaming event by 68 of the nearly 150 participating venues. From the mythical Sala Sol in Madrid to the tiny Hospitalet honky-tonk L’Oncle Jack, the venues broadcast their rooms empty, and in silence. Nearly 30 of these venues are located in Barcelona.

The platform estimated that, as of its collective streaming event in November 2020, 120 million euros had been lost by live music venues across the country, and in its manifesto placed the blame squarely on the government for its uneven support of the cultural sector in light of the economic catastrophe brought on by the pandemic. 

We spoke to four of Barcelona’s iconic music venues to find out how they have weathered this past year, and what they think the future holds.

Razzmatazz

One of Barcelona’s largest music venues, Razzmatazz, is located in the artsy-but-still-gritty neighborhood of El Poblenou. It is actually three venues: Razzmatazz 1, 2, and 3. Razz 1 is the big room, and hosts national and international rock, indie and electronica acts. Razz 2 is a cool, intimate rock club for those local and/or touring acts who can’t quite pull in 1,000 people, and the smaller Razz 3 has seen the launch of many a local band. Its crew is a tightly-knit, professional group of people who love rock and roll. In the year 2019, 374 concerts took place on its stages—more concerts than there were days in the year. In the past 12 months, there have been zero. 

Razz employs over 150 people and has lost well over a million euros since the start of the pandemic. One in five of its employees is still on ERTE, which means the company continues to pay them a full or partial salary even though the venue has generated zero revenue in nearly a year. (An ERTE, or Expediente de Regulación de Empleo Temporal, means the company can receive temporary financial support from the government in order to avoid shutting down.) 

These employees include sound technicians, lighting experts, cameramen and women, production crew, electricians, stage managers, promoters, event programmers, loading and unloading personnel, security personnel, drivers, waiters, cloakroom and ticketing attendants, administrative assistants, office staff, cleaning crew and more. Most of these people haven’t worked since March 2020.

Lluís Torrents has been the venue manager since Razzmatazz opened in 2000 and is the current President of the Associació de Sales de Concerts de Catalunya (the Association of Concert Venues of Catalunya, or ASACC), one of the entities responsible for El Último Concierto. He is the first to point out that the problems they face are not only due to the pandemic.

“In general, all levels of government here do not take culture into account,” says Torrents. “The importance is proportional to the percentage of the budget they allocate to the sector, which in Catalunya is only 0.7%. European music venues receive, on average, between 40% and 60% of their budget from public funding.”

He says the laws that govern the cultural sector are obsolete, and that the prioritization of partisan interests over all else by the Catalan and Spanish governments means that these laws are unlikely to change any time soon. The organizations that lobby for music venues’ interests, such as the Acadèmia de la Música (Academy of Music) or the Association of Concert Halls of Cataluyna (ASACC) don’t have enough political power to guarantee the continuity of the sector.

“This is hugely damaging to us,” he says. “The government isn’t looking out for the wellbeing of its people. Concert halls work year-round to generate a fabric of spaces that is an essential part of the cultural development of any city. If they disappear, it’s a domino effect: they take an entire chain of people, opportunities and experiences down with them.”

Various members of Razzmatazz’ staff have been extremely active on social media and have participated in industry-wide protest movements such as Alerta Roja (red alert), trying to illustrate the personal impact of the venues’ closure on their community. 

La Sala Apolo

La Sala Apolo is located in the historic theater district of Barcelona, El Poble-sec. While it’s right down the street from other notable places to perform—El Molino, Sala Barts, Teatre Victoria, among others—the Apolo is “the” venue for live music. The venue dates back to 1943 and continues to be a staple of Barcelona cultural life. 

Playing the Apolo’s main stage is a dream for all local bands, and a number of touring acts as well. Over 11,000 artists and countless DJs of nearly every style imaginable have performed there, including famous names like The Wailers or The Kings of Leon. Like Razz, they also have two relatively smaller additional spaces, as well as a new in-house recording studio and audiovisual set-up that launched right around the time the pandemic hit. All its spaces combined have a capacity of 2,900 people.

Naiara Lasa has been the head of the Apolo’s artistic team since 2013. When asked how the pandemic has affected the historic venue she doesn’t mince words: “It’s BAD,” she says. All caps.

As much as 98% of the company’s workforce is on ERTE. The venue has been trying to find a way to adapt the space to comply with the current restrictions in order to program a limited number of events. 

On December 12th, 2020, the Apolo in coordination with Hospital Can Ruti and Primavera Sound orchestrated a test concert to try to prove to the government that, as the trending hashtag goes, #CulturaEsSegura, or “culture is safe.” Nearly 500 people between the ages of 18 and 59 with negative PCR and antigen test results attended a socially-distanced concert. They all wore N-95 masks and had their temperature taken at the door, but were allowed to dance, drink and mingle during the show. 

While the logistics required to coordinate the event were massive, the payoff was equally impressive in its totality: On December 30th, various news outlets reported that no cases of coronavirus were reported by the concert attendees in the ensuing days. Though Lasa acknowledges that the methodology would be impossible to implement on a macro scale, she says the example still served its purpose.

“We’ve proven that it can be done,” she says. “So, let’s roll up our sleeves and start figuring out how we can put on contagion-free events.”

Why does proving that live music events can be held without a greater than usual risk of contagion matter? 

“Because the Apolo is home to a lot of people,” she says. “It’s not about having a place to party; it’s a neurological center for the neighborhood; where you go to be with your people, to discover new music, to share experiences which are a comfort in times of crisis, which is essential to any community.”

Jamboree

Jamboree is another iconic Barcelona venue, this one located in Plaça Reial in the heart of the city’s old town (El Barri Gótic). It and its sister venue next door, Los Tarantos, are run by the conglomerate Mas i Mas, which is also responsible for other venues and events around the city: La Cova del Drac-Jazzroom, Moog Club, and the San Miguel Mas i Mas Festival. Both Tarantos and Jamboree are favorites with tourists, one specializing in jazz and soul, the other in flamenco. The inside of Jamboree resembles a secret subterranean grotto, and nearly every concert there is packed, whether the name on the schedule is famous or not.

Imma Flores has worked for the Mas i Mas company for years and was in charge of programming bands at Jamboree before the pandemic brought everything to a halt. While most of the rest of the staff is—you guessed it—on ERTE, she’s added managing the paperwork for the government subsidies the venue has requested, as well production support for the few shows they’ve been able to do, to her list of responsibilities. 

Jamboree was one of the most notably persistent of all the city’s venues in trying to hold on to at least some of its programming while still adhering to the restrictions. It held shows with limited capacity from May through July, after which it had to close again. It was the first venue in the city to offer shows once the total ban on events was lifted: Jamboree organized a series of free, open-air concerts in Plaça Reial with some of its regular bands in August and September 2020, giving people the opportunity to forget about their problems for a short while and just enjoy.

“It’s been complicated adhering to the changing restrictions,” says Flores. “We’ve tried to reschedule all the performances that were canceled throughout last year, but as we had to keep cancelling, then rescheduling and cancelling again, we finally decided to close completely until everything was a little more stable.”

Jamboree wasn’t eligible for much of the economic relief it applied for because it either didn’t meet the requirements or wasn’t able to meet the application deadline due to a lack of clarity in communication when it came to the governments’ rollout. It has taken out ICO loans instead.

She doesn’t understand why cinemas, theaters and museums have to adhere to more relaxed restrictions than concert venues, and why the government’s response to the public health threat has been so disorganized.

“By taking into account how the pandemic was developing in other countries, they could have gotten ahead of the curve and planned for at least some of the impact,” she says. “But they were and continue to be behind on everything.”

Jamboree is a notable exception of a well-known local venue that did not participate in the El Último Concierto, citing philosophical differences but wishing the other venues the best of luck.

Luz de Gas

Luz de Gas is located in an upscale part of town, on the border between the left side of Eixample and Sant Gervasi. Its ambiance is a classy combination of old-world small theater and medium-sized upscale rock venue and caters to a more mature audience than most clubs in the center of town. It has some of the best stage lighting and live sound in the city and is known for supporting all kinds of local organizations raising money for a good cause, from autism awareness to cancer research. (Full disclosure: This place will always have a special spot in my heart as my band and I recorded our live album on its stage in 2018.)

Fede Sardá has been the director of the venue since it opened 25 years ago. He says that the lingering impact of the economic crisis of 2008 combined with the government’s decision to raise the IVA on live performances from 8% to a 21% tax in 2012 is when things started to get more difficult for the live music scene.

“From 1995 till 2012 it was a great time,” says Sardá. “But we’re still here, fighting to keep the doors open.”

Its 65 employees are all on ERTE since last March, and just like other venues, it has taken out multiple loans to survive. Luz de Gas’ first concert in nearly a full year was a mini-festival held on March 8, called Som Aquí (“we are here,” double meaning intended), in honor of International Women’s Day and featuring a line-up of all female singers. It has just barely started programming a limited number of events for the coming months under strict social distancing restrictions and is hoping to be able to celebrate its official reopening in September with a night of back-to-back concerts by multiple artists.

Sardá doesn’t pull any punches when talking about how the government has handled the pandemic. 

“They’ve done a terrible job. Luz de Gas has been closed for the sake of an important common good, which is people's health, but the weight of this common good should not have to be borne only by the city’s venues,” he says. “We needed financial support, but instead they left us largely to our own devices.”

He believes that the press coverage of initiatives like El Último Concierto and Alerta Roja has helped to make the general public more aware of the importance of live music venues to the culture of the city, and that this will hopefully encourage people to want to spend money on tickets once it is possible to fully reopen.

Still, much remains to be done. Physical health is obviously essential, but Sardá says that live music is also necessary for many people’s mental health, and that the continued lack of it in the city is detrimental to its citizens’ wellbeing. 

“Being a part of the interaction between the musicians and the public feeds our souls,” he says. “For now we’re surviving, but the cultural fabric of Barcelona would be utterly destroyed if the concert halls have to close their doors for good.” 

The Last Concert, For Real

Not all of Barcelona’s music venues survived 2020. Sala Monasterio, a small rock venue known for its unfailingly good treatment of local acts, closed its doors last April. Another venue that is also known for its support of the local scene as well as for bringing in top-quality touring bands, Rocksound, closed its doors in October. Both were battling the twin demons of the pandemic and gentrification. 

Sala Monasterio, originally located in El Born and later near the Port of Barcelona, was already fighting for its life long before the pandemic due to a municipal plan that contained a clause designed to purge businesses dedicated to “nocturnal entertainment” from the waterfront. The plan has been widely criticized for encouraging property speculation. 

Rocksound, an authentically grungy bar that was consistently listed in tourist guides as a not-to-be-missed hidden gem, brought in Americana, Rock, Punk, Psychobilly and Metal artists from as far away as America. It was also threatened by urban planning—ironically, by the @22 plan, which was designed specifically to promote Barcelona as a cultural hub. The pandemic was its final death blow, sparking outrage and controversy from fans, journalists, musicians and other venues. 

Both of these businesses received a groundswell of support from the community, including fundraisers, newspaper articles and thousands of signatures on online petitions, but to no avail. Lluís Torrents from Razz says that the loss of both of these rooms was a tragedy for the city.

“Through ASACC, we are trying to find a solution so that both venues can either transfer their licenses or receive a new license from the city so that the cultural value of such great magnitude isn’t lost,” he says, “But it’s proving extremely difficult.”

A Groundswell of Support—Or Not

Some venues, like these two, have found it easier than others to count on public support from the bands who have played their stages. When it comes to lobbying the government on behalf of venues, the artistic side of the music community is divided in two: on one hand, there are the musicians who say that without these venues there will be no live music. Period. The situation is so urgent and so universal that we simply have to pull together, in spite of any differences, if we hope to make it through this crisis at all. 

On the other hand, there are those who list the times that they were charged exorbitant production fees or refused collaboration on a non-profit event by some, though definitely not all, of the same venues who are asking for solidarity when the chips are down. 

The business side of music and culture is fraught with complex issues, and just like in every other sector, the pandemic has exposed and deepened preexisting divides. 

Looking Forward

So what does 2021 look like for the local venues that are still on their feet? For now, some are attempting to make ends meet with a combination of loans, subsidies, ERTEs, and pre-curfew daytimes events with limited seating. Many venues are nervous about the potential long-term impact of the fear of contagion once the venues are finally allowed to get back to business.

Fede Sardá is celebrating Luz de Gas’ successful first concert in a year, and is looking determinedly towards September.

Lluís Torrents of Razzmatazz continues to fight for the government to recognize culture as an essential good through ASACC and other organizations. 

Jamboree’s Imma Flores hopes that the introduction of the vaccine into the general population will help the future seem a little brighter. 

Naiara Lasa from La Sala Apolo echoes what each venue has said in one form or another: “Without music, none of us would be who we are, yet the needs and the specific dynamics of our sector are largely unknown by society and are ignored by the institutions. Government has to be the first to acknowledge the value of music and of culture, and the value of the contribution of our entire ecosystem to society. It has to educate people, to help people recognize the importance of what we do. It needs to call it what it is: we are culture. We are necessary. And we need help.”